Chapter Four
Three weeks of living with Bear, and I still hadn’t made any real headway breaking through his fortress of one-word sentences. I had, however, successfully cracked his behavioral code: a sharp scoff meant no, and a low grunt meant yes.
I’d also firmly established that the room I was banned from entering on day one was his bedroom—the absolute ultimate no-no zone.
Slowly, the mysteries of Bear were starting to unravel. I’d discovered he worked as a stockman at Walmart, and he supplemented his income by mowing lawns around town. I actually found out about the second job by accident last week. I was walking back from campus when I spotted him working on a yard down the street. He was wearing a tight white tank top and worn-out jeans, his muscles shifting under the fabric as he pushed the mower. I’d literally had to clutch my thighs together to create some friction. It was an absolute, undeniable turn-on.
We’d also hammered out a chore system that suited us both perfectly: he handled all the cooking, and I took care of the laundry. He’d made it very clear that the building’s communal laundry room was his version of hell because of the human element. Or, as he so eloquently put it: “Laundry room sucks. People.”
A man of few words, indeed.
This morning, I woke up feeling great. Honestly, every single morning had been great since I moved in. That brand-new mattress was doing actual wonders for my body.
I pad into the kitchen to find Bear already sitting at the breakfast bar, quietly eating a bowl of cereal. He was dressed in his blue Walmart uniform, and against all laws of physics, he actually managed to make retail attire look devastatingly hot. I was officially reaching the point where I had to admit it to myself: I had a massive crush on my roommate.
“Morning,” I say brightly, moving past him to brew a much-needed cup of coffee.
He gave a low grunt. Definitely not a morning person.
I climb onto the stool next to him, scrolling through TikTok and sipping my coffee while he finishes his breakfast. Once I finish, I gather my textbooks, slung my bag over my shoulder, and head for the front door. “Bye, Bear!”
Without looking up from his bowl, he raises a hand and gave me a tiny, silent wave. I smirk to myself as I walk out. I was definitely calling that progress.
My next stop was Starbucks for coffee number two. As I approach the counter, Adrian smiles warmly, typing my usual order into the computer before I could even open my mouth.
“How’s your morning going?” he asks, leaning against the counter.
“Good,” I murmur, returning the smile.
“I was wondering...” Adrian clears his throat, his posture turning a little nervous as he looks at me. “Are you single?”
My heart did a tiny flip. “Oh. Um, yeah. I am.”
“Can I buy you dinner sometime?”
My smile widens. “Okay. Yeah.”
“Tonight, sound good?” I nod, and his face lit up. “Awesome. I’ll write my number on your cup.”
When my iced coffee slid across the pickup counter a minute later, I turn the plastic cup around. Scribbled in black Sharpie across the logo was his number, followed by a note:
I’ll pick you up at 6 - Adrian 528-2917
I grin, taking a sip.
Look at me, finally branching out.
----
When I relay the news to Olivia and Stacey later that afternoon, they predictably freaked out.
During our afternoon lecture, I texted Adrian my address, to which he sent back a prompt, minimalist K. The second class let out, the girls marched straight back to my apartment to help me curate the perfect date outfit.
They also finally got their chance to meet the mysterious Bear.
Key word: tried. I attempted to introduce them the moment we walked through the door, but Bear took one look at the three of us, turned on his heel, walked straight into his bedroom, and slammed the door shut behind him.
Message received. Bear did not do friends.
“Well, he’s rude,” Olivia declares, immediately plop-dropping onto the living room couch.
“He’s just shy,” I defend softly, looking toward his closed door.
“No, he’s just a dick,” Stacey counters flatly.
I roll my eyes, pulling them both toward my room. “We aren’t here to talk trash about my roommate. I need serious wardrobe assistance for tonight.”
Stacey immediately took charge, scanning the limited options in my new wardrobe. “The dark blue dress with the thin straps,” she commands. “Throw your black leather jacket over it. Perfect. Now, let’s watch Gossip Girl.”
We spent the next two hours huddled in my room watching television until the clock crept toward five. I quickly got dressed, did my makeup, and promptly escorted Olivia and Stacey to the front door. There was absolutely no way I was letting them linger around to embarrass me when my date arrived.
The moment the front door clicks shut behind them, Bear’s bedroom door swings open. He steps out into the hallway, his emerald eyes slowly tracking me from head to toe. He let out a low grunt, then walks into the kitchen and immediately began prepping dinner.
“I’m actually not going to be home for dinner tonight,” I state, leaning against the counter.
“Figured,” he mumbles, slicing a knife through a piece of meat. “You’re dressed like that.”
I blink, a slight blush creeping up my neck. “I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thanks.”
Before he could grunt a response, a sharp knock echoed from the front door. I hurry over and swing it open to find Adrian standing on the welcome mat. He was wearing a crisp button-up shirt and denim shorts—a total departure from his green Starbucks apron, but he looked undeniably handsome.
“Hey,” he says, smiling.
“Hi,” I murmur back.
“Ready to go?”
“Nodding, I say, “Just let me grab my purse.”
I turn back into the apartment to walk to my room, but as I did, I notice Adrian had frozen on the threshold. He looked absolutely petrified. Following his gaze, I saw Bear standing precisely where I’d left him, quietly dicing beef with a massive, terrifyingly sharp chef’s knife. He hadn’t broken rhythm, but his eyes were locked onto Adrian like a predator sizing up prey.
“You alright?” I ask Adrian gently, stepping back into the hallway with my bag.
“Good. Totally good,” he mutters, swallowing hard.
“See you later, Bear,” I call out as I pull the apartment door shut.
True to form, a distant grunt was my only reply.
We headed out to the parking lot, and I slide into the passenger seat of Adrian’s car, carefully clicking my seatbelt into place. Safety first.
As he pull out of the complex, Adrian let out a long breath. “Your roommate,” he says slowly, gripping the steering wheel. “What’s the deal with him?”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s terrifying, Danny.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “He’s just really quiet. The silence makes him seem scarier than he actually is.”
Adrian hums, seemingly unconvinced, and drove us down toward the water. We pull up to The Boatyard Grill, a beautiful restaurant right on the wharf. The hostess recognizes Adrian the moment we walked through the doors and immediately escorts us to a prime table overlooking the harbor.
“What can I get you guys started with to drink?” our waiter asks, pen poised over his pad.
“Just a water for me, please,” I answer.
“I’ll have your nicest beer on tap,” Adrian orders smoothly.
The waiter nods and vanishes. I look across the table, raising an eyebrow. “Wait, you’re over twenty-one?”
“Turned twenty-one a month ago,” Adrian says with a grin. “How old are you?”
“One more year until I can legally drink,” I joke, propping my chin on my hand.
He chuckles. “Trust me, that last year goes by incredibly slowly.”
“So, what do you do besides pouring espresso at Starbucks?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“I study law at Harvard,” Adrian answers casually.
My eyes widen. “Wow, that’s amazing! Are you on summer break or something right now?”
“No, I’m actually just taking a gap year,” he explains. “What about you?”
“I’m majoring in Marketing at Cornell,” I state proudly.
Adrian frowns slightly, tilting his head. “Why are you doing that?”
The phrasing felt a bit dismissive, but I pushed it past it. “I want to open my own makeup store one day.”
Before he could comment, the waiter returns, sliding our drinks onto the table. “Are we ready to order entrees, folks?”
“Uh—” I start, intending to look at the menu.
“Yep,” Adrian cut in smoothly. “I’ll have the fisherman’s basket.”
“I’ll just get the same,” I mumble, caught off guard.
The waiter scribbles it down and disappears once more. Adrian looks at me, a smirk on his face. “Wow, you must have a pretty massive appetite.”
“Not really,” I reply, a slight edge to my voice. “I didn’t actually get a chance to look at the menu. You talk fast.”
He let out a laugh, completely missing my irritation.
Oddly enough, our waiter marches straight back to the table less than two minutes later, looking apologetic. “I am so sorry, folks, but it looks like we’re actually fresh out of the fisherman’s baskets tonight. However, the chef offered to whip up a custom Chef’s Special for the both of you instead.”
“Sure, that works,” Adrian agrees carelessly.
I gave a tight nod, and the waiter hurries back to the kitchen.
Adrian pushes his chair back, standing up. “I have to use the restroom real quick.”
“Okay,” I murmure.
I watch him walk away, turning the corner toward the back corridor. Left alone at the table, I stare out at the water, casually humming the theme song to Looney Tunes. It had been stuck in my head since Saturday morning.
Apparently, despite looking like an intimidating, tatted-up lumberjack, Bear spent his Saturday mornings sitting on the couch watching classic cartoons like a literal child. It was secretly the cutest thing I’d ever seen.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, checking my phone. The restroom couldn’t possibly take this long. A distinct knot of worry began to form in my stomach.
Suddenly, our waiter reappears, carrying two beautifully plated meals. He sets them down on the table, looks at the empty seat across from me, and frowns. “Did your date leave?”
“No, he just went to the bathroom,” I state, gesturing toward the back hallway.
The waiter’s expression instantly shifts into one of profound, painful sympathy. “I’m pretty sure I just watched him exit out the back door into the parking lot.”
My heart drops straight into my shoes. I stare at him, the air leaving my lungs. “A-are you sure?” I whisper.
He offers a sad, apologetic grimace. “I’m really sorry, babe.”
Fuck my life