5 The Next Level #2
He didn’t seem to like that response and frowned, telling me, “I could pretend I didn’t receive the notice and that might buy you a week. But the head of housing will start coming down on me after that.”
“Thank you, Chris,” I said, relieved.
“I just don’t want to be responsible for you turning into a panhandler.”
Chris was weird, but he clearly had a good heart. I almost wanted to cry from relief. It had been forever since anyone had done anything so kind for me. “You want a hug?” I asked him. “Because I sure need one.”
But as I leaned in, and Chris stood and bent over the counter, I felt someone pulling me away.
“Now, now, no funny business, kids,” Ross said. “What’s up, Chrissy?”
“We agreed that you’d stop calling me that, remember?” Chris responded.
“You got it, Chrissy. What were you guys talking about? Was Chrissy telling you his favorite flavor of condom again?”
“It’s not my favorite flavor, dumbass. I just tell people it’s the most popular one. And no, for your information, we were talking about Jenna’s financial problems.”
“Wow,” I said, “thanks for being so discreet.”
“Sorry,” Chris corrected himself, seeming slightly embarrassed. “What I mean was, yeah, we were talking about condom flavors.”
“Good save,” I added sarcastically.
“Are you having money problems?” Ross asked with concern.
I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to talk about that with him, especially not after seeing his expression, which didn’t precisely radiate understanding.
Chris pretended to focus on his Candy Crush game, but I could tell he was listening to every word we were saying.
Since the cat was out of the bag, I figured there was no point in covering things up, so I told Ross, “Yeah, my parents are broke and they won’t be able to send me any money for housing till next month.
So I guess I need a job. If you know anyone who’s looking for someone… ”
“I don’t. Sorry. I’ve got a better idea, though. You could just come live with us!”
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“You heard me,” he responded. “You’re one of us now. Why not?”
“Ross, you barely know me. What if I were a serial killer?”
“I’m willing to take that risk.”
“I don’t know if I can accept that,” I said.
“You already practically live with us anyway. It’s just your things that live in the dorm.”
“Ross, I’m broke. If I don’t have money for the dorm, that means I don’t have money for rent, either.”
“Screw it,” he said, almost offended. “If you don’t have money, just don’t pay. I don’t mind. Now I know all the objections you’re going to make, so let me cut you off now. The offer’s on the table, no strings attached, and in your situation, I’d advise you not to hesitate for too long.”
“Won’t Will and Sue get mad, though?”
“Will would never get mad at you. If anything, you being there will mean Naya will come over more, and for him, that’s a plus.
We’ll have to listen to them bumping and grinding more, but I’m willing to make that sacrifice if it means having you around the house.
As for Sue, she hates everyone, so who cares what she thinks?
I’m honestly just surprised she hasn’t already murdered all of us in our sleep. ”
“Ross, I don’t know what to say,” I told him.
“Then say yes.”
Chris stopped pretending he wasn’t listening to us and butted in.
“One thing, though. We can’t just hold a room for you.
Once university housing learns you’re not here, that spot’s marked as open, and there’s always the possibility someone might transfer into it from another dorm.
Obviously I’ll see what I can do, but I’m just a peon. ”
That terrified me. That meant this was serious. I looked Ross in the eyes and asked him again, “Are you sure? Are you sure there’s room for me? Where will I sleep? On the couch?”
“Of course not. You can sleep with me.”
Chris choked on the water he was sipping and started pounding the middle of his chest. I could feel my cheeks getting feverish as Ross tried to ignore him and said, “Trust me, I’m a gentleman. I won’t lay a finger on you.”
“Sure,” I said, giggling nervously.
“Unless you ask me to.”
Dumbass. Now I was blushing for the second time in ten seconds.
“I won’t,” I grumbled.
He smiled, pinched the back of my neck, and said, “We’ll see about that.”
I wasn’t sure about sharing a bed with a guy—a guy I had only known for a month—and it seemed strange to me that Ross was so chill about it.
But he argued that his bed was huge and that he barely covered half of it.
And he reminded me of what actually mattered in that moment: that it was better than a park bench.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, park benches do have nice views.”
“They’re sure as hell not comfortable, though,” he said, and I told him I didn’t want to owe him anything.
“You don’t owe me anything!” he grumbled, then said, “Come on, let’s go get your things.”
“You’ve still got another week,” Chris said, but Ross ignored him as he headed upstairs.
I wondered if we should tell Will first and expressed my worries. When Ross asked why, I said, “I mean, it is his apartment, isn’t it? He’d probably appreciate the heads-up.”
“Sorry, babe, that apartment is mine.”
“What?”
He arched an eyebrow and said, “Try not to act so surprised. I’m a responsible adult. I can have a place of my own. And I can open the doors of my humble abode to anybody I like. Or to my bed.”
I’d heard that joke enough times by then, so I told him to hurry up and help me with my things.
For half an hour, while he sat on the bed, I ran back and forth, stuffing things into a suitcase and trying to arrange them as best I could.
But it was no use. The suitcase seemed to have shrunk since I arrived.
It didn’t help that he kept pulling my clothing and keepsakes out to examine them.
“Why do you have so many clothes?” he asked. “You always wear the same thing anyway.”
“That’s not true!” I replied, offended.
“Don’t get me wrong, you can wear what you want for all I care. Or nothing at all.”
I threw a pair of slacks at his face, and he caught them, folded them, and laid them in the suitcase.
“So tell me something about your financial issues,” he said. “Where did all your money go?”
“Mine, nowhere. My parents, though… They give every cent to my brothers and my sister.” I tossed a pair of socks into the suitcase. “They think my brothers’ stupid garage is worth more than my studies.”
“How many of you are there?”
“Five in all. I’m the baby, then there’s my three older brothers, then my sister.
But she lives with her son, Owen, and her on-again, off-again boyfriend.
He’s not Owen’s dad; he’s just some guy she met a couple of months ago.
They argue all the time and then break up and then get back together.
The poor kid must be sick of it. But why do you want to know all this? ”
“You’ve just never told me about your family.”
For a moment, I stood still as I wondered why. Then I went back to folding clothes. “There’s just not much to tell, really.”
“I find it interesting,” he said with a grin. “Kind of like these.” He pulled up the pair of ratty panties I usually wore when I was on my period. “They’re very fashionable.”
I snatched them away and stuffed them under the rest of my things, embarrassed, telling him, “Don’t touch my underwear.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When I managed to get the suitcase shut, he lugged it downstairs for me. Chris was kind enough to hold the door for us and tell me he’d be happy to see me back there if things didn’t work out. “As for him,” he said, pointing at Ross, “if he gives you any trouble, you have my permission to hit him.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, laughing. “See you around, Chris.”
Ross was already a few steps away, getting ready to load my suitcase into his car. Once I got in, I buckled my seat belt. I’d learned that was important with him, even if I was getting used to his driving to such a point that other drivers were starting to seem slow to me.
“Will’s going to be so happy to see you!” he said. “Naya too.”
“I don’t know, maybe she won’t like being alone in her room.”
“She’s never even there. You’ll probably see her more than you did before.”
“Why are you so pleased with this situation, Ross?”
He shrugged and smiled. “I don’t know.”
I poked his cheek, trying to get him to say something, but he just chuckled and said, “How about we put on some music?”
When we reached his apartment, he pulled out my suitcase and said, “This thing feels like you’ve got rocks in it.”
“You carried it up to my room on the first day, and it’s got the exact same stuff in it. Probably you’re getting weaker in your old age.”
“Oh, are you challenging me? Let’s see how weak I am!” He bent down and grabbed me around the knees and lifted me, throwing me over his shoulder. The whole garage turned upside down and I shouted, “Ross! Ross! Put me down!”
“You shouldn’t have provoked me!”
“ Ross! ”
He ignored me, grabbed the suitcase with the other hand, and carried us both to the elevator. I twisted and turned, but it was pointless, so finally I crossed my arms and waited, simply protesting. “You’re going to make me pass out. All the blood’s running to my brain.”
“What brain?” he asked.
I hit him on the back, hard enough to get a reaction out of him, and told him he’d have another one coming if he didn’t put me down.
“I prefer not to,” he said. “After all, my head’s right by your butt. That’s motivation for me to give it a nice squeeze.”
That thought hadn’t struck me before, and I realized his hands were on the back of my thighs, dangerously close to it. “Put me down, you pervert!” I shouted.
“Booooring,” he responded, setting my feet on the floor. I rearranged my hair and clothes while he stood there grinning. “I should have grabbed a big handful when I had the chance.”
“You’ll never have the chance,” I hissed, and he said, “Are you daring me? Because I never lose a dare.”
“I’m not daring you!”