Chapter 5
JAMIE
I stand in the middle of my empty studio, turning in a slow circle like I’m trying to memorize every crack in the paint and every scuff on the floor.
It’s stupid to feel anything for this place—this shoebox with thin walls and dodgy plumbing—but I do.
Even though I wasn’t here that long, only a little over a year.
This was the first place I didn’t have to share with strangers.
The first place that was mine. I signed the lease by myself after I landed my job at the clinic and could finally provide some reliable payslips.
I remember feeling so proud as I clutched the contract in my shaking hands, like I’d finally become an adult at the fresh age of twenty-two.
And there was also the fact that David was moving in with me. God, I was so ecstatic. And so blind.
I stare at the corner where the guitar he couldn’t play very well used to sit and feel that familiar pinch in my chest. It’s not heartbreak anymore—just this dull, tired ache that mocks me for believing, even for a second, that someone would want a life with me.
That someone would want me.
“Ready?” Tyler’s voice drifts from the doorway.
I jump slightly as I didn’t hear him come back. I turn to see him leaning casually against the frame, a small, warm smile on his lips. I can already feel some of the coldness that has enveloped me melting away at the sight.
“Yeah,” I reply, nostalgia and excitement waging a battle inside me.
“Anything else left?”
We’ve already loaded four boxes worth of stuff into Tyler’s X-Trail.
Honestly, I’m surprised there was even that much.
At least it was all packed up quickly. I meant to do it bit by bit during the week, so it would be ready for Friday.
But then Tyler had to go and not only offer to help me move, but push me to do it sooner.
And because I’m a weak, weak man, with a useless crush, I all but ran home after work yesterday and started throwing my shit in the boxes.
“Just this.” I grab my massage table, hooking the strap over my shoulder.
Tyler’s expression flashes with something hard to describe when his gaze falls to it, but it’s gone quickly.
“Cool. Let me carry it.”
“Oh, it’s okay, I’ve got it.”
The table’s not particularly heavy, just bulky, which is annoying.
Not that I’ve had to carry it around much.
The place where I take my course provides massage tables, but I figured having my own wouldn’t hurt.
The idea was to practice on David, but after the first attempt, he said that getting a massage from me felt weird, so it never happened again.
The thing has just been collecting dust.
Now I finally get to use it since Tyler seemed more than happy when I offered yesterday. I need to do my best, so he doesn’t think it’s weird too.
“Let me be a gentleman, dammit.” Tyler pretends to sulk.
I laugh, my chest warm at seeing how eager he is to help. I let him take the table, sending an appreciative glance over his bulging biceps.
He shoots me a grin and asks again, “Ready?”
This time, I feel more confident when I say yes. I hang the two sets of keys—mine and David’s—on the hook by the door, cast one last glance at the studio, and shut the door.
When we reach our new home and haul the first two boxes into the apartment, I spot a grey blur. I track the movement, and then the blur darts toward us like a tiny, determined missile.
“Oh my God,” I breathe. “Is that…”
“Fiona,” Tyler says, already smiling. He crouches, and Fiona practically throws herself into his hands, her cute little nose twitching. “I’ve told her all about you.” Then he offers her to me. “Want to hold her?”
“Is that okay? I thought they don’t like it.”
“Oh, don’t worry. She’s a cuddle bug.”
I try not to look too eager, but fail completely.
Tyler places her in my outstretched arms, and Fiona melts instantly, pressing herself against my chest like she’s claimed me. Her fur is unbelievably soft, and I feel her little heartbeat next to mine. I tear up a little at having something so lovely, warm and fragile in my hands.
“She likes you,” Tyler says, watching us with a fondness that makes my stomach twist.
“I like her too,” I manage, dropping a kiss to her fluffy head. I’d love to cuddle her until the end of time, but I have boxes to unpack, two more of them and the massage table still sitting in the car.
After I reluctantly put Fiona down, we carry the rest of my things inside. She occasionally circles our feet like she’s supervising, making me laugh but also worry that I’m gonna step on her.
“Does she ever get lonely?” I wonder out loud. “Don’t rabbits do better with a friend?”
“They do. Most sources will tell you you should never adopt just one, but Fiona is a tad territorial.” Tyler chuckles, bending down to stroke her ears. “I’m home most of the time, so she’s rarely left alone.”
“That’s good.”
“Do you need help unpacking?”
“Nah. There’s not much.” And what there is should not be seen.
“I’ll leave you to it, then. Holler if you need anything,” Tyler says after putting down the massage table in my room. It smells different to last time, sweet and citrusy, probably from the product that was used for the carpet cleaning.
“Thank you. For everything,” I say softly.
“Of course,” he says, like it’s a given, not even worth mentioning.
As he shoots me one more smile before stepping out of the room with Fiona in tow, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve just made a huge mistake.
All I’ve thought about since I left here on Friday is how amazing it will be to live together.
Despite Tyler bringing women home. Despite him being straight and me pining after him.
I’ve told myself it’s a small price to pay.
I’m not so sure anymore. Because if these small gestures make my heart soar sky high, how am I supposed to handle anything else?
Especially when he’s so oblivious to the effect he has on me.
To him, helping another person, being effortlessly kind to them, is nothing out of the ordinary.
It’s probably how he treats everyone, not just me. I’m not special.
But when he looks at me, his gaze warm and smile even more so, making me feel like he actually wants me to be here, I do feel special. I know I’m just projecting, but my heart refuses to differentiate between those.
Maybe Tyler bringing women home, making…
making love to them while I’m in the apartment, is going to be a good thing.
A brutal, but necessary, reminder of my place.
My place in Tyler’s life. I’m his roommate now, and that’s all.
Not someone he’s going to touch beyond a friendly pat.
Not someone he’s going to kiss. Not someone he’s going to claim as his.
I swallow, my throat feeling tight. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and get to work. I bend down to tear the masking tape off the first box. That’s as far as I get when I suddenly feel something touching my calf. I look over my shoulder and see Fiona.
I grin and turn around so I can pet her. “Hey, sweetheart. Came back to help out?”
She stands up on her hind legs and puts her front paws on my knee. I nearly melt into the carpet. When I stroke between her ears, her mouth and teeth make a strange clicking sound. I draw my hand back. Was she about to bite me? She doesn’t look unhappy, though.
I stroke her again, and the same thing happens. When she doesn’t come for my fingers, I continue petting her, only stopping when I feel my legs going numb from being in the crouched position for too long.
“Thank you. I needed that.” I give her ears one last stroke before standing up. I watch her hop away and laugh when she jumps in the air like she’s been catapulted. I’ve heard rabbits do that, but never seen it in real life.
I feel better now. It’s almost as if Fiona detected my gloomy mood and wanted to fix it. Can rabbits sense emotional instability? I’ll have to Google that.
I turn my attention back to the boxes and start unpacking them.
The clothes go straight in the closet, which is clean and roomy.
Blake was kind enough to have left the hangers here, which I appreciate.
I hate folding clothes. And looking through them to find what I’m looking for, which only creates a mess.
The books are next. I don’t have many, only a short stack made of stories that were too good not to own a physical copy.
It’s all gay romance, of course, and very cliché.
David used to scoff at them, saying that over-the-top stories like this are why people maintain impossible standards.
“There’s no Prince Charming, no knight in shining armor waiting to sweep you off your feet. Get real.”
I didn’t bother responding. I’m aware books like this don’t reflect real life. That’s why I love them. They’re my escape, my make-believe in the world where nothing is the way I’d wish for.
I almost ended up throwing them away at one point. I got home from work and found David going through what was, unfortunately, the spiciest book I own. With very graphic descriptions. I’ll never forget the utterly disgusted look on his face as his gaze shifted to me.
“You’re sick,” he practically spat the words out and threw the book at my feet. “I’m never doing anything like that with you.”
I cried in the bathroom that night. I’d never even entertained the idea of asking him for anything like that. It was just a book, a fantasy. But he made me feel so filthy and ashamed, wondering if I should actually get treated for the things I fantasize about.
Looking back, I can’t believe how stupid I was. David couldn’t have made his opinion of me any clearer, yet I was so surprised when he left. Really, so, so stupid.
I sigh, using the top of the dresser as a bookshelf, something I could never do before. I kept the books in the box they’d come in, shoved under the bed, even though the covers are mostly discreet. But now that I have my own room, I don’t have to worry anymore.