Five #2
“I have a bachelor’s, it just took longer than planned,” she says, as if I’d judge her for not finishing a degree.
Speaking at twice her usual speed, she explains, “I started in pre-med like my mom wanted, but my grades were abysmal. Art history wasn’t tangible enough for me, so I decided to go for Architecture.
But being behind already, I’d have to take a three-year master’s program no matter what.
It was either interior design or industrial design, so I chose industrial for the exhibit design studios.
But . . .” She returns to normal speed. “I paused there. And I still haven’t hit play. ”
“What’s stopping you from going now?”
Her arms wrap tighter around mine. “Debt, joblessness, being homeless, general internal crises over my life being uprooted by a cheater and his second family. Nothing huge, really.”
Stupid of me to ask when slapping her would’ve had the same effect. She jokes, but her grip on my arm is the same level of touch she uses to calm herself. The rebuilding she’ll need after everything her ex did is no small feat. She needs time to meditate, time to breathe. And I can give her that.
We step out of the exhibit back onto the walkway overlooking the rotunda, taking the ramp to enjoy the view. “Thank you for entertaining me,” she says. “We can go back to the hotel now. We should probably look at flights.”
I pull her to a stop. Tell her. “Or we could wait, maybe?” How was that supposed to be a segue? “I got my job back.”
“Oh my god! Congrats! Are you excited?”
“Sure. I mean yes. I like my job.” Not the stress, but Sai and the salary make up for it.
“Moving back will be so much easier for you now.”
I’m clearly not communicating my intentions well enough. “That’s kind of the thing. I’m not going back to Seattle yet. I’m staying here.”
She snarls. “Ew. Why?”
Staying at the scene of the crime would be awful if my plan doesn’t work. “We have a client here. My boss asked me to stay and try to shmooze them in person. But, um . . . I don’t really want to.”
“Nah, you’ll do great. I believe in you.”
Fucking tell her! What are you doing? “Would you . . .”
She waits for me to choke out a continuation. “Would I what?”
“Would you want to stay here too?”
She cocks her head to the side with confusion. “How? I can’t afford the hotel. Or this city. Or life, really.”
“No, I meant . . .” My heart thuds nervously in my chest. We were supposed to be strangers, and yet we’ve been unable to escape each other since we crashed together at the restaurant. It feels like fate, but is this too far? Asking someone I met three days ago to live with me?
In a normal world with undamaged people, maybe, but neither of those apply to our circumstances.
I don’t want to stay here without the person who has kept me from unraveling and crawling back to Natalie.
Even though I’m doing this with the sole intent to pay her back for her selflessness, somehow asking her to stay will still end with her helping me yet again.
“I get a housing stipend as part of my work benefits, so my company would cover a rental. Since it’s free, I figured you could stay with me, save up some money, and find your own place before going home. If—if you want.”
Finally, she gets what I’m saying. She stands in a stupor for a moment before asking, “Are you for real?”
I nod and swallow a nervous knot in my throat. “Consider it payback for keeping my crashout to a minimum.”
She looks suspicious, as she should. “You know, this is a really elaborate plan,” she says, crossing her arms. “You could just murder me in the hotel room like a normal person.”
“Wait, what?”
“Your name’s not on the room. You’re smart. I’m sure you could get away with it if you thought it through enough.”
“Is this your way of saying no?”
She eyes me, her face giving nothing away until a hint of smirk lifts one side of her mouth. “You really want me to stay with you? Live with you for a month?”
“We’ve basically been living together for the last two days.”
“We’ve been crashing in a hotel room. Living together is a completely different situation that can get weird real fast.”
“But it would help you, wouldn’t it?” I ask rhetorically. She sighs, trying to find another reason to fight off my help. “It’s not completely selfless.”
“Explain.”
“Honestly, I’m afraid that if you’re not here, I’ll go crawling back to Natalie and get myself hurt all over again. You’ve done so much to help me accept what happened and start to move on. It’s only fair to do the same for you. Especially after what your ex did.”
Though she tries to hide it, the reminder of last night’s news breaks her resolve. “You don’t owe me anything. At all.”
“But I do. Neither of us planned to be in this position. You need money, and you don’t want to move in with your friend while you sort things out. This would give you a few weeks to save up and—”
“Okay, fine. Yes.”
After planning to say another full paragraph, I need to make sure I heard her right. “Yes?”
“Yes. I want to stay.” She throws herself against me, hugging me tightly, resting her cheek on my chest. “I was dreading having to go back before I had everything together. So, thank you.”
I wrap my arms around her shoulders. “No problem.” Now that I know she’ll stay, I breathe easier.
“But I’m only staying a week. Two weeks tops.”
I’ll take what I can get.