Chapter Five
James had a telltale prickle on the back of his neck all day, so he shouldn’t have been surprised to end up at Nolan’s apartment.
Meg couldn’t have known about their scene over the weekend or how he ran scared when Nolan mentioned sex. And the man had been pure temptation—but James was far too broken.
Living with him would be an exercise in madness, yet he walked into the gorgeous Victorian anyway.
The place smelled crisp even though the building was old, and despite the bits of clutter here and there, everything had a neat and orderly place in the foyer and the deeper glimpse of the living room he caught.
“Want something to drink?” Nolan asked. “Or I can launch straight into a tour of the house if you’re interested.”
“A drink would be good,” James said, wanting a moment for his brain to reset.
Nolan gestured for the living room, and he followed him.
His mind had been set on this place from the moment Meg mentioned it, mostly because he trusted her, and he no longer knew the landscape of San Francisco anymore.
The living room featured two dusty pink couches and a sage green living space, a soft sort of prettiness that surprised him.
The dark mahogany furniture and detailing popped against the gentle colors, and he soaked it in as he took a seat at the closest couch.
“Beer?” Nolan asked. “This feels like a beer situation.”
“Yes, please,” James murmured, sinking into the couch.
Nolan bolted out of the room, presumably to get the beer.
Or scream into a bag—who knew. He couldn’t blame the guy.
He was torn. This should be the most awkward situation after he’d turned down Nolan over the weekend, but the place felt comfortable, maybe due to the gorgeous architecture or how neatly Nolan kept it.
“Hope you don’t mind stouts,” Nolan said, reemerging with a bottle in each hand. “I stopped by Midnight Brewing earlier in the week.”
“I’m a fan,” James said, unable to help the way his gaze skimmed over Nolan.
He wore a black tank top, yellow and black flannel, and black skinny jeans, which offset his creamy white skin and shock of green hair.
His deep eyes were expressive and his lips full and pursed.
The man was ridiculously pretty, with a charm about him that wasn’t fragile but unique in a way James couldn’t quite look away from.
Nolan chewed his lower lip, opened the bottles, and handed one to James. He sat beside him, bringing his smoky-sweet scent closer. James tilted the bottle back and took a swig, simply for the chance to stall a response. He wasn’t sure how to broach this situation.
“So, Meg set this whole thing up, right?” Nolan said, picking at the label on the bottle. When he got a piece of it, he rolled it into a ball and placed it on his coffee table.
“Clearly,” James said. “She knew I was looking for somewhere to live.”
“And I’m in the market for a roommate,” Nolan said, continuing to work at the label and not meet his eyes. “As much as this could be a bad idea…”
“Yeah?” James said, trying not to get his hopes up. The second he saw Nolan at the door, his gut had sunk, the realization hitting that not only had he bombed with this hottie, but the guy also wouldn’t want him as a roommate after that.
“Look, I’m not sure anyone is going to be able to live with me, but at least I know you’re respectful and you understand boundaries,” Nolan said, adding a few more balled up pieces of label to the small line he formed. “Meg wouldn’t have recommended you if she didn’t think you could handle it.”
“Handle what?” James asked, his curiosity piqued.
“I’ve got OCD,” Nolan stated. “I’m medicated, in therapy, the whole nine, but I still have my specific issues, and they tend to manifest most in the house. Habits that settle me, rooms kept a particular way. If you’re not okay with that, living together won’t work.”
Certain details from their scene clarified in James’s mind now.
“Are these the sort of needs that allow for another person living with you?” he asked. “Or is this a situation where you want to try?”
Nolan’s shoulders relaxed. “I know it can be done. Meg’s made the office in Whipped accessible for me, and the staff there don’t even blink at my habits.”
That told James enough. All Nolan needed was respect for his parameters and boundaries, and as long as he was clear about them, James was happy to do as much.
“Do you mind showing me some of them?” James asked. “Maybe make it part of the house tour.”
Nolan’s brows lifted, his gaze settling on James’s at last. His eyes softened slightly as the guardedness leaked away. James’s chest squeezed. Had Nolan been that worried about judgment? What asshole roommates had he dealt with before? “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Let’s clear the air on the other elephant in the room then,” James said, sucking in a sharp breath.
If they were considering this, best to rip the Band-Aid off at once.
“Meg recommended a friend instead of a stranger because this is the first move I’ve made since my husband…
passed a year ago.” Stating out loud, he’d expected the slice into his chest, but the admission thumped with a dull ache instead. Grief was capricious and difficult.
Nolan’s eyes widened, and James braced himself for the sorry, the pity in his gaze, the usual sad faces he’d gotten so used to. “So, this past weekend…have you been out much since?”
Hunh. Apparently Nolan would be refreshingly different. James shook his head. “That was one of the first times. I’ve flogged on occasion but not in a public scene like that.”
And he hadn’t fucked anyone since.
However, the words remained on his tongue. Nolan nodded and hummed, as he seemed to piece the situation together himself. He blew on the top of the bottle, making a deep resonant noise, then took another sip. After placing the bottle down, he rose from the couch.
“So, how about that tour?” he asked, a slight spark in his gaze.
James blinked, startled by the rapid change.
His lips curled in a tentative smile. “Yeah, gonna show me around the place?” He drank a bit of the stout, the deep, rich taste smooth and sweet on his tongue.
Nolan’s maturity and clarity about his needs and where he was at spelled good news for the prospect of roommates.
Even if he’d be temptation incarnate.
Enough of a headfuck for James to walk away. Instead, he found himself pushing up from the couch at the same time Nolan did. He carried the beer with him. He needed to process this, and it was his thinking beer.
“Most of my tics are checks, but I’ve got some mild germ issues and some with symmetry and order.
Here, let’s head to the kitchen first,” Nolan said as he guided them farther into the house.
They turned to the first right along the hallway and stepped into a gorgeous kitchen.
This must’ve been remodeled, as it felt newer despite being in an old Victorian.
The black cabinetry and dark wood floors worked perfectly with the tall windows and spattered pale green and white walls.
Plants lined the windowsills, a few in decorative pots.
“You got a green thumb?” James asked, curiosity creeping in.
“I try,” Nolan said. “That’s Penelope, Frederick, Geraldine, and Lyra.” He pointed to four of the different plants, and James bit his lip to hold back his smile. “I wiped down the surfaces of the kitchen five times before you came. Any time I can see dust coating the surfaces…yeah.”
“So you keep a clean house,” James murmured. “I do too.”
Nolan’s shoulders relaxed, and warmth thrummed through James. The guy honestly expected James to be judging him right now, which made him want to wring a few necks.
“Look, one of the biggest concerns with having someone else in my space is where you’re going to put your stuff. Where things will move.”
“I’m guessing that taps into the order of things?” James asked. “Why don’t we decide together where we’ll put my belongings, and then I’ll keep them in their places. Works to maintain a neat place anyway.”
Nolan opened then closed his mouth. His brows drew together, then he let out a huff of breath. “You’re being awfully reasonable. What sort of secret are you hiding? Serial killer? Puppy kicker? One of those assholes who dog ear their books?”
James snorted. “Serial killer gets looped into the same category as folks who dog ear their books?”
Nolan shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”
“Mmkay,” he said, shaking his head as he leaned against the cool black marble countertop. “But I’m fine with you setting the rules in your house, as long as we can reach compromises on how I can live in it too.”
“You’re framing this in an entirely different way than I anticipated,” Nolan said. “Where’s the theatrics? Throwing some plates and saying ‘I’m out’ or calling me crazy? You’ve got to give me a little more drama than that.”
James’s lips twitched again. He hadn’t experienced this much warmth or amusement in a short succession in…
well, too long. From last weekend to now, Nolan had been a constant surprise.
If he were someone different, in a different life, in a different timeline, he’d have taken the invitation in a hot second.
That he even considered living with him was crazy. Yet the ache of loneliness had grown so severe. Night after night of an empty bed and a shattered heart.
“Want to see the upstairs?” Nolan asked, blowing against the rim of his bottle again. “I’m doing a shit job at a tour, given we haven’t left the kitchen yet.”
“Yeah, show me what room I’d be in,” he said, the unsaid floating between them.
Nolan hadn’t fully offered the place, and he hadn’t fully accepted, but he already wanted to.
Meg, the asshole, had known what a familiar face would do to him.
How much he needed to be around people now, rather than by his lonesome.
Back in Sacramento, he’d lost the urge to visit with play partners, as he and Andrew were open in the scene, and the friends they went out with were other couples.
“Okay, but don’t expect Taj Mahal in terms of space or anything.
We do happen to be in the middle of San Francisco,” Nolan warned as he started out of the kitchen.
He veered left, where the staircase led up.
James couldn’t help but watch the flex of Nolan’s ass as he strode up the steps, those long legs moving with precision.
Heat flushed through him, followed by the familiar prickle of guilt.
Ogling his potential landlord wasn’t exactly healthy.
At the top of the steps, the second floor held the same charm as the first, with decorative crown molding that fit for the old Victorian.
The slightly musty scent mixed with the sharp lemon of cleaner, and James liked the comfort that filtered through his veins with it.
It reminded him of his childhood home, growing up in the old apartment building with his mom.
“This would be your room,” Nolan said, gesturing to the one on the left. “I’m right across the hall, and the bathroom is at the end of the hall.”
When Nolan said right across, he meant it.
The doors were nearly parallel, and their closeness both terrified and thrilled him.
James peeked into the room, which wasn’t large, but it gave him enough space for his belongings.
He’d spent the last year downsizing, shedding items and memories that hurt too much to keep hold of.
A guest bed was already in the room, which was perfect, with pale white sheets and a navy comforter on it.
One thing was for sure. Whether it was the hazy dust motes filtering through the room, lit up by the sunlight pouring through the windows, or the calm in the air—a living, breathing thing—James felt a comfort he’d been aching for.
“I’ll take the room,” he said.
“Wait, seriously?” Nolan said, almost falling over from his lean in the doorway. “What sold it, the painting my dad left in there of Greek wrestlers?”
James’s lips twitched again, and god, he savored the lightness, those brief moments a gasp of breath when he’d been drowning. “Definitely the Greek wrestlers. Do you have a contract for me to sign?”
Nolan nodded, jostled the doorknob a few times, then stepped away. “Yeah, I had one prepared just in case.”
Nolan headed down the hall first, and James followed more slowly, his footsteps a little more purposeful as he soaked the place in.
He rarely made gut decisions, yet he couldn’t help but bask in the rightness of this space, how even a short period here made him feel more settled.
And he was desperate for any solace he could find.
Nolan reached the bottom of the steps and glanced behind him. “You coming?”
The way Nolan looked up at him, curious and wondering, ensnared him, as did everything else about the man. He was the first to draw James’s attention since… He sucked in a sharp breath. That terrified him more than anything.
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
And yet, here he was, stepping right into the flames.