Chapter Two House Rules
Pulling up to Jonas's complex, I sat there annoyed.
Long enough to realize my dad hadn’t been exaggerating about the location. Jonas’s place sat right between campus and the café where I worked, which meant I didn’t even have the excuse of a long commute to complain about.
Great.
So not only was I being shipped off to live with my dad’s business partner, I was also losing one of my favorite ways to justify being late.
I cut the engine, and sat there for a second with my hands still on the wheel. Let's get this over with.
I grabbed my bag, got out, and made my way up to the unit, already mentally preparing myself for awkward small talk and whatever version of “keeping an eye on me” Jonas had decided to implement.
I knocked.
There was a brief pause, then the door opened.
My memory hadn’t been wrong.
Jonas looked exactly like I vaguely remembered, just clearer now, sharper.
Tall, broad shoulders filling out a simple white t shirt, posture straight without being stiff.
His hair was clean and trimmed, his face set in that same slightly stern expression that made it seem like he always knew exactly what he was doing.
Not old.
Definitely not old.
Just very much an adult.
And annoyingly good looking up close. I'll just add it to the list of annoyances.
His eyes moved over me quickly, not lingering, just assessing like he was checking a list in his head. “You made it.”
“Yeah,” I said, shifting my bag on my shoulder. “Traffic wasn’t bad.”
He stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come in.”
I walked past him, immediately noticing how put together everything was.
Not staged, not empty, just… controlled. Like everything had a place and was exactly where it was supposed to be. No clutter, no piles, no chaos.
It felt very him.
He closed the door behind me. “You can set your things down for now. I’ll show you around.”
“Okay.”
I dropped my bag by the entry and followed him further inside, trying not to look like I was actively comparing his place to every other place I had ever lived.
“This is the main living area,” he said, gesturing briefly. “Kitchen’s there. Bathroom down the hall. Your room’s on the first floor.”
He moved into the kitchen and I followed, leaning against the counter as he continued. “I cook most evenings. If you want to eat, you’re welcome to, but you clean up after.”
“I’ll probably just use the microwave,” I said.
He looked at me.
“I don’t have one.”
I blinked. “You don’t have a microwave?”
“No.”
“…Why?”
“They’re inefficient,” he said without hesitation. “They ruin texture, heat unevenly, and encourage lazy habits.”
I stared at him.
He held my gaze like that was a completely normal thing to say.
“You’re kidding.”
There was the faintest shift at the corner of his mouth, like he almost smiled. “Yes.”
Then he turned, opened a cabinet, and pointed. “It’s in there.”
I walked over and pulled the pantry door open.
Microwave.
I looked back at him. “Who puts their microwave in a cabinet?”
“Saves counter space,” he said mildly. “And I rarely use it.”
“I'll change that,” I joke. "I live on hot pockets and ramen."
That almost smile showed again, just for a second. “You’ll change your mind after you try my cooking.”
I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head as I shut the cabinet. “We’ll see.”
Some of the tension in my shoulders eased without me meaning it to. He wasn’t warm, but he wasn’t completely rigid either.
That helped.
He continued the tour without missing a beat, showing me where things were, how the parking worked, where I should leave my car, what time he expected the place to be locked up at night.
Then—
“Curfew is ten on weekdays. Midnight on weekends.”
I stopped walking. “Curfew?”
He glanced back at me. “Yes.”
“I’m twenty one.”
“And you’re staying in my home.”
I crossed my arms, leaning slightly against the wall. “I appreciate you letting me stay here, I really do, but you don’t have to take my dad’s whole keep her in line thing that seriously.”
His expression didn’t change.
At all.
“Those aren’t your father’s rules,” he said evenly. “They’re mine.”
That set my teeth on edge. And something in me immediately wanted to push back and see if it actually held. But I could think of anything to say as he held my gaze.
"Fine," I shrugged.
He watched me for a second, then headed down the hall like nothing had happened.
I followed, quieter now, but not backing down.
Just recalibrating.
He stopped at the last door and opened it. “This is your room.”
It was simple, like the rest of the place. Clean bed, dresser, small desk. Nothing extra, nothing missing.
“Downstairs bathroom is all yours,” he added. “Keep it clean. If you need anything, let me know.”
He reached into his pocket and handed me a key. “Spare. Don’t lose it.”
I took it. “Got it.”
There was a brief pause, like he was waiting to see if I had anything else to say.
I didn’t.
“Get settled,” he said, stepping back into the hallway. “Dinner’s at seven if you want it.”
And just like that, he was gone.
No hovering, no awkward small talk, no standing there making sure I felt settled. He showed me the room, handed me a key, told me when dinner was, and that was apparently that.
I stood there for a second before shutting the door behind me. The room was quiet in a way that made the whole thing feel even more real, and when I kicked off my shoes and fell back onto the bed, all I could do was stare up at the ceiling and let it sink in.
So this was my life now. No friends, no London, no freedom, just summer classes, work, and living under the same roof as my dad’s very controlled and definitely-going-to-try-to-tell-me-what-to-do business partner.
Fantastic.
I blew out a long breath and did the math in my head. Repairs, mold treatment, inspections. At least a couple weeks, probably longer.
I could survive a couple weeks. I just had to keep my head down, go to class, go to work, and not get into it with him. Cause it's either that or going to my moms.
I rolled onto my side, staring at the wall, and almost immediately started thinking about how serious he actually was about all this.
He didn’t know me, which meant he definitely didn’t know how convincing I could be when I wanted something, and part of me was already wondering how fixed that curfew really was.