Chapter 16 #2
I know enough about females and women in general to understand she won’t want to shower with an unknown male in the apartment while she’s vulnerable.
I might as well make myself scarce and give her some time to herself.
I lock the door behind me as Calida and I head down the stairs and out into the early morning air.
As Flint disappears out the door, I look back down at my phone. I was doing my normal morning scrolling, checking the news whilst waiting for the coffee to make its way to my brain.
I hope Flint didn’t think it was rude that I was ignoring him or not really engaging in conversation.
I don’t think he was under that impression since he wasn’t exactly talkative either.
And I can’t deny that there’s a sense of relief that I’ll be able to shower and dress without my ingrained leeriness of all men psyching me out.
I smile as I take my dishes to the kitchen and pour another cup of coffee. There’s definitely something to be said for waking up to coffee that’s already been made and an actual breakfast. Although I will continue to argue that fruit loops or Little Debbies are perfectly fine as breakfast foods.
I check to be sure Flint locked the door before taking my coffee to the bathroom and starting the shower.
I stifle a giggle thinking about Flint waking me up in the dark with his girly shriek.
Remembering that no one is here, I stop trying to hold it in and let the laugh loose.
I, obviously, won’t be making the same mistake.
Although, it’s hard to be upset about disrupted sleep when it resulted in a middle of the night view of the very delectable Flint.
I test the water, debating whether I have the spoons to wash my hair or not this morning. It sounds like a lot of work. Then again, I reason, today started a hell of a lot better than most mornings.
1. I have a hot new roommate.
2. I got a peep show of said hot roommate in the middle of the night.
3. Roommate makes a decent breakfast and has saved me the hassle of making my coffee.
4. I will be working with this man for the foreseeable future and, by all accounts, he does not find me disgusting, so I should probably keep it that way.
As a nod to the color that I definitely don’t have the spoons to re-do, I turn the water temp down to minimize fading and brace myself for a cooler shower than I’d planned.
Happily, I’m dressed and my hair is dry when Flint returns.
He knocks softly on the apartment door and I almost miss it, having turned on music to keep me company while I finished getting ready.
I really am going to need to get him a key and, I guess, get comfortable with him being around when I’m showering.
As I let him in, I realize it’s not really any different than him being there when I sleep. There’s just something about that extra layer of vulnerability that comes from being naked.
Flint comes in, one hand behind his back. When I raise my eyebrows at him, he closes the door and shows me a clutch of flowers in his hand. “For you.”
My heart stutters and seems to swell in my chest. Okay, sir. You’re really fucking the curve for the whole male class here.
I take the offered flowers and bring them to my nose. The smell is sweetly spring.
“Thank you! They’re gorgeous.”
“I noticed last night that the ones in the bathroom needed replacing.”
I’m dumbfounded. The man noticed my flowers were droopy?
“They’re perfect.” Now I feel awkward. Like … What are you even supposed to do? Is this the first time a man has given me flowers? Really, it’s anyone’s best guess.
“I’ll just go put them in water. Um… I’m almost ready. You never said, you know, what time Betsy wanted you in, but if you want, we could walk together?”
I glance up from the flowers to watch a slow, sweet smile cross his face.
“I’d love it.”
“Great. That’s great. I’m just going to… “ I gesture vaguely towards the bathroom. “finish getting ready.”
Why am I like this?!?
I scurry away, back to the bathroom, to deal with my flowers.
I feel like it means a lot more to me than the gesture intended and I don’t know what to do with that.
Like any self-respecting female, I toss it in the mental box of “shit to deal with never” and try to focus on finishing my makeup.
I need to look more like a person and less like “I’ll let you cross my bridge if you can answer my three riddles” if anyone is going to buy a book from me.
Or if I maybe, possibly, kind of, probably, may want to see how this attraction to Flint could play out.
Ten minutes later, I’m ready to go. I mean, sort of.
I am physically ready, but I need to hunt down all my shit.
Flint is completely unbothered, having picked his book back up and made himself comfortable on the edge of the couch.
Great. He can watch me run around like an idiot, trying to remember where I put everything.
What is this object permanence you speak of?
I have most of it tossed into my bag in short order but my keys.
My keys. My keys. I pat the pockets of my ripped skinny jeans like they’re hiding somewhere — as though there is somewhere in these pants to hide.
Did I wear them in hopes that, just maybe, Flint will find some time today to notice how great they make my ass look?
Maybe.
Stop judging me.
I hear a jingle and whip around. Flint is standing in the kitchen, gently shaking my keys in his hand.
One more point to his side of the scoreboard. Damn it anyway. The man makes coffee before I have to wake up and can find my lost shit?
Is it too early to propose?