Chapter 4 #2
I didn’t even know why. With Easton’s background, I wasn’t sure if he could get the magnitude of this moment, but I decided not to make assumptions. I wanted to share this with him. Not because he was the only person with me right then, but because I wanted Easton to know how much this mattered.
He stood there patiently waiting for me to speak.
“Sorry I’m acting so weird. It just hit me that I can actually afford this place.
” I sounded astonished, and the way his eyes softened made me feel seen.
Like he got it. “I guess I hadn’t really let it sink in yet that I’m not on a graduate student budget anymore. ”
Easton shifted like he was going to move closer, and I almost moved to meet him halfway, but in the end, he stayed where he was. He smiled wide at me, though.
“You should be proud of yourself; it’s an amazing accomplishment. I’ve lived in Ithaca almost my whole life and it’s not like I know everyone who gets hired up there, but I do know getting a tenure track position at Cornell is a huge deal.”
Those green eyes on me were like truth serum, because I just kept talking.
“Nesto and I shared a place with another guy in Harlem for the five years before he moved here. The rent was decent, but it wasn’t the nicest.” I shrugged feeling embarrassed about what I was thinking, but also like I really needed to share this.
It was such a strange feeling for me to want to be vulnerable like this.
“I’ve never lived alone. I’m not sure what I’d do with myself in a place this big on my own.
It’s kind of crazy that you own it, actually. ”
The bright smile faded, and I hated myself a little bit for saying the words that made it happen.
“I didn’t work for this. I bought it with money I got from my grandmother.
Your job is an actual accomplishment.” He waved his hand around the bathroom.
“This is just old money begetting more money with very little effort from any of the parties involved.”
The tone of his voice was so self-deprecating.
I usually wasn’t full of sympathy for trust fund babies but I also knew that Easton had a hard job.
One that he opted into when he could’ve been coasting on his family’s money.
Even though I had a lot of opinions on the criminal justice system and prosecutors, I knew he was out there trying to put away the bad guys.
“Don’t be so down on yourself, man. Some people do a lot worse with the money they inherit than putting it into something that is a legit source of income. Also it’s not like you’re sitting at home waiting for rent checks. You’re not exactly doing light work at the DA’s office.”
He just shrugged and moved toward the bedroom.
I wanted to stop him, say more until that smile he’d been giving me since I walked into the elevator came back out.
I had no idea why I was so invested in seeing Easton looking happy again, but I was ready to take the apartment just to do something that might bring some light back to his eyes. Before I knew it, I was talking again.
“It’s not like I didn’t want to have my own place. I just couldn’t afford it.” I lifted a hand in the direction of the bay windows. “I’m not going to be mad to have a place like this.”
His lips twitched at that and my heart pounded in my chest, because I never learned.
“I actually didn’t have an apartment like this in undergrad. I went to school in Buffalo, and my place was not nearly as nice, much to parents’ chagrin.”
I worked extremely hard to keep my eyebrows in place.
“Oh?”
I’d always assumed he’d gone to an Ivy League school.
I never asked, because I was a callous asshole, but the way he was holding himself right now, shoulder back, chin up, told me there was a story there.
“Buffalo, then.” I pointed at myself, ready to launch into another overshare.
“I started at City College and then transferred to Columbia sophomore year, I was working full time and living at home to help my mom out, in the first years at least. It took me about six years to get my bachelor’s. ”
He didn’t look at me when he talked, running a hand over the metal banister that led downstairs.
“That’s incredible, Patrice. I liked SUNY Buffalo.
It was the right place for me. I wasn’t the best student in high school.
I partied a lot and generally didn’t take myself very seriously.
It was pretty much a done deal that I would just work for my family’s winery, and I can’t say that I cared too much about my career. ”
He laughed, and it was a tired sound.
“It’s so frivolous to even say it, but I knew I’d never have to worry about money or finding work, so I just sort of coasted.
It wasn’t until senior year when I let Cindy convince me to volunteer for the local domestic violence agency.
They had a program for high schoolers where we learned to do peer-to-peer outreach.
I’d just come out and was figuring myself out—” He closed his eyes, his lips flattening at whatever he was remembering.
He waved a hand, dismissing whatever that brought up, and looked at me.
“Anyway. That year was life changing for me, I decided I wanted to work helping survivors. Cindy advocated hard for law school and I knew how much she loved her job.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said, more than a little ashamed by all the ways I’d written Easton off. He lifted a shoulder, as if he was used to that, people making assumptions. “You’re a fighter, Easton.”
“I wasn’t struggling with money, believe me.”
Every conversation with Easton drove home more and more that the easygoing, light, and breezy rich boy thing he had going was either just an act or his way of protecting himself from people and their shitty judgements.
When he spoke again, he sounded more certain.
The confidence that I’d gotten used to coming back.
“For law school, it was the same. I went to the school I got into. I ended up at Fordham Law and honestly, I loved it. Then I came back here to the DA’s office.
” He stepped closer to me, as I was still looking for how to respond.
When he came closer, he didn’t look sad anymore. Just like that, his smile was back.
I wondered what it cost Easton every time he did that. “So is this place worthy of your first post grad school home, Professor?” The way he looked at me, with hopeful eyes, like he needed me to play along, was enough to disarm me.
“I don’t know, Mr. Archer. Are you going to be a good landlord?”
Was I flirting? Trying to impress? I wasn’t even sure what kind of life I was living anymore. But it was all worth it when I saw that smile.
“Well I usually have a property management company take care of stuff for my tenants, but for you, I might want to take care of things myself.”
Why was him talking about repairing shit in my apartment making me want to fuck him over the staircase railing?
And why had I even gone there?
Once again, I had an image come to mind.
This time, Easton writhing under me as I spread him open with one hand while I worked an enormous dildo into his ass with the other.
Pushing it in as he undulated under me, trying to make it go deeper, while I leaned in to lick at his stretched out rim, and he begged me to fuck him harder.
This time I really did have to adjust my pants and Easton started moving toward me like he knew exactly what was going through my head.
Before I knew what was happening, he grabbed my shirt, pulling me down to him.
I moved fast and grabbed the back of his neck to pull his face to mine, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
No hesitation, not a shred of reluctance.
I had at least four inches and sixty pounds on him. I was a big guy—people usually approached with caution—but Easton came to me like he was coming home.
Like there was nothing he could see that he didn’t want to get closer to. I was thinking about what part of him I wanted to get at first when I remembered why I was here—to rent this apartment that he owned. If I got mixed up with Easton, it would get messy.
Messy was one thing I did not do.
I released the hand that I had on the back of his neck and stepped back with a heavy exhale. “Easton.”
He immediately pulled back and glanced up at me, looking dazed. Once again I wished I could just let myself go. Get what we both wanted.
I looked at him trying to figure out how much my hot and cold shit had pissed him off, and he did look pissed, but apparently not for the reason I thought.
“Oh no. Stop that shit.”
I laughed because he was fucking ridiculous.
“Stop what. You’re a mind reader now?”
He lifted a shoulder, but I could tell he was embarrassed about the kiss and I felt like shit.
I had to give it to Easton, he could handle discomfort.
He powered on and cleared the air. “As a matter of fact, I am a bit of a reader, not minds, but certainly body language.” He exhaled and waved in my direction.
“Looks like once again I pushed you too far too quick. My bad.”
I shook my head and smiled at him because no matter how crazy he made me, I really fucking liked Easton Archer. In fact, the more I knew, the more I wanted him. There was no telling myself any different on that.
“Easton, I’m just trying to get into this building without starting some fuckboy drama with you. I want this place and I—”
This I wasn’t sure how to say without going into weirdness territory.
“I like you. Like as a friend, and I’m going to be here for a while.” I sagged after getting the words out, and he looked at me like he knew what was coming.
“I get it. If you want this place, it’s yours, and I will keep my thirsty ass in shape.”
I shook my head at him, biting back a smile, wanting to also say my piece. The thought of Easton walking away from this feeling hurt was not sitting right with me.