Chapter 10
TEN
Avril
As I pull my suitcase up the steps to Ben’s apartment building, I start to wonder if someone was spiking my drinks last night. Why on earth would I agree to live with a man?
Oh yeah, so I can make the Boston site work, prove to Worth and Poppy that one, I’m not a quitter, and two, I can do things on my own without their help.
I need to keep reminding myself of the end goal for the next eight nights.
It’s going to be tough to spend a lot of time with Ben.
He’s drop-dead gorgeous and can make a mean omelet, but he will also have an ego the size of Texas.
Men like him always do. By the end of our time together, not only will I not be in love with him, I might be in an orange jumpsuit with an assault charge pending.
And it will all be Poppy’s fault. I’m still not quite sure why she was so keen to broker this deal.
I thought she preferred having our second hotel in New York.
Maybe she’d lost track of the number of cocktails she had, although that seems unlikely.
But now she’s down a roommate and I’m about to live with a man for the first time in my life.
As I come through the doors to the building, at six forty-five a.m., the doorman rushes over to me and reaches for my suitcase. “Let me help you with that,” he says.
“I’m here to see Ben East,” I say.
He calls up to Ben, and then he nods and confirms a couple of things, although I can’t quite make out what they’re discussing. Is Ben insisting on a background check before I’m allowed to go up? Does he think I might have come armed?
The doorman puts down the phone, and at the same time, the elevator doors open and Ben appears. He looks like he just got out of bed. His hair is sticking up on top of his head and he’s wearing navy joggers and a white t-shirt. He’s a walking billboard for Calvin Klein. Goddamn, he’s pretty.
“Avril!” he says, his gaze sweeping up and down my body.
I’m in leggings and an oversized Taylor Swift tee, my hair piled on top of my head like I’m spending the day in bed with Poppy, binge-watching our favorite shows.
I’ve deliberately dressed this way. It’s not like I want him to find me attractive, right?
In fact, the opposite is true. I want him to see that there’s no messiness between us.
Things are strictly platonic. I want to give off full-on sister vibes.
But now, looking at him, looking at me, I wish I’d maybe put on some lip gloss and run a brush through my hair.
“You look beautiful, Avril,” he says, taking the handle of my suitcase.
“I do not,” I say with a scowl. I look like an abandoned dog toy.
And it’s deliberate. I want him to know it’s deliberate.
He should think I always look like this and that he couldn’t possibly ever find me attractive.
I know the deal is that I have to resist his over-the-top charm, but I figure he won’t try so hard if he’s not actually attracted to me.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take that up, sir?” the doorman asks.
Ben smiles at the man. “Thanks. I’ve got it.”
“It’s on wheels,” I say. “There’s nothing to get.”
Ben chuckles but doesn’t say anything. “So we’re hanging out all week,” he says.
“Right.”
“What do you normally do at the weekend?” he asks, as we ride up in the elevator.
I shrug. “Depends if I’m working or hanging out with Poppy. Worth and his friends have brunch most Sundays, so I often go, but Saturdays are more fluid.”
“Great. So you don’t mind coming to the gym with me?”
“The gym?” The idea of having this insanely attractive man watching me sweat gives me nausea. “I haven’t brought any gym clothes. But you go. I can stay home and read. Unpack. Hang.”
Ben chuckles as the doors to the elevators ping open at his floor. “Don’t worry, I thought you might not have brought any, so I had some delivered. I’ve put them in your bedroom.”
“You bought me gym clothes? That’s like the opposite of charming. You’re saying you think I need to go to the gym?” I know that’s not what he’s saying, but I can taunt him, can’t I?
“You know that’s not what I’m saying,” he says, still smiling at me. “Or go as you are. I don’t mind.”
“What happens if I don’t want to go to the gym?”
“You don’t have any other plans though. Saturdays are fluid, right?”
“Right. But…”
“Give it a shot. Worst case, they have a great smoothie bar. You can hang out there.”
“Do they have donuts?”
He doesn’t answer, he just smiles at me.
I realize I’m about to step into his foyer, and my stomach swoops at the memory of being here last time. Of walking out in heels and his shirt. I never dreamed I’d be back here under these circumstances. Or ever.
What am I doing here? I can’t believe I talked myself into thinking this was a good idea.
There’s no legal agreement that says Ben has to help me at the end of this week.
I could spend the week with him and he could still turn around and tell me that he’s not going to play ball and that he’s just been torturing me all along.
I should have just accepted that he’s not going to be useful.
Going through this is just so humiliating.
“You okay?” he asks as he holds the elevator doors, waiting for me to step out.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“It’s going to be fine,” he says. “I’m not quite sure how we got here, but here we are. I’m a big believer in going where life takes you. And this is where it’s taken us both for the next week.”
Is he having the same kind of doubts that I’m having? Is he thinking the same things?
I swallow. I’m here, and I can’t quit now. I don’t want him to know how embarrassed I feel about this entire situation. But at the same time, I don’t want to be here. In the cold light of day, without the blare of bad microphones and canned alcohol, I feel ridiculous.
I step out of the elevator. “I’m fine.”
Ben grins. “It’s going to be great. I’m excellent company.”
“And modest too, which is nice.” I follow him inside, deliberately focusing on the walls of Ben’s apartment and not his tight ass.
“These are great shots,” I say, as I nod to the black-and-white photographs of iconic Manhattan landmarks that line the hallway.
He roots around in the brass bowl on the table and pulls out a key. “Thanks. I took them when I first moved in here.”
“Are you serious?” I say, taking in the shots more closely.
They’re really good. Grainy and taken from angles you don’t normally see.
Except…they’re not New York landmarks. There’s no sign of the Brooklyn Bridge or the Empire State Building.
These are all shots of Grand Central Station, I realize.
The outside, the inside, the trains, the tracks.
I glance across at him and he meets my gaze. I want to ask him what the station obsession is about, but he’s dangling a key in his fingers.
“Yours,” he says. “So you can come and go as you please.”
I want to go! Please! I don’t say.
“Thanks,” I say instead, holding my palm underneath the key so he can drop it in.
He leads me to a bedroom, which I’m relieved isn’t his bedroom. There’s a Neiman Marcus bag on the bed, which I assume contains the gym clothes he’s picked out. Is it weird that I kind of like the fact that I get a gift out of this whole debacle?
“I’ll give you ten minutes to get settled. You want me to help you unpack?”
“No, thank you,” I say.
“You want a drink? Orgasm?”
I tilt my head to one side. “Get out of here.”
“Just want you to feel relaxed and at home.” He chuckles and heads out, leaving me alone.
Then I remember him saying how he’d never had a woman stay over in his apartment before.
Maybe he was bullshitting, but honestly, doesn’t he feel weird having me move in for the week?
We’re basically strangers who’ve seen each other naked.
After putting my things away and admiring the ridiculously good views uptown from my windows, I peer into the bag on my bed but all I can see is tissue paper. I give in and empty everything out onto the bed. If I’m going out in public, I need to make some kind of effort.
I don’t know if Ben just has a really good assistant, but the haul he managed is impressive.
He’s covered the full spectrum of workout clothes, from ultra-covered-up jogging bottoms, yoga pants and long-sleeved t-shirts, to running shorts and cropped tank tops.
It’s a smart move from him, because I don’t have to cover up and I don’t have to show any skin and every option in between.
I opt for leggings and a tight-fitting long tank top. It feels like it’s something I would wear if I actually went to the gym. I quickly get changed, brush my hair into a ponytail, and emerge to find Ben waiting for me.
“Do you have everything you need?” he asks.
“I have no idea,” I say. “But I have earbuds and my phone so I can sit in the smoothie bar while you work out.”
He smiles but doesn’t argue, and we head out.
“These sneakers are very bouncy,” I say, as we go out into the cold February air. I pull my coat around me and try to keep up with Ben. He’s not intentionally walking quickly, it’s just he has such long legs, I have to do two steps to his every one.
I spot a bundle of white fur on the ground, shivering against Ben’s building. “Oh sweetie,” I say, bending down to check on the cat. “Did someone in your building lose their cat?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Never seen her before, but I’m not generally scanning the ground for cats either.”
“She’s cold,” I say. The furbaby nuzzles at my knee. I know touching random animals isn’t advised, but this cute little munchkin is too adorable to resist.
“She’s literally wearing a fur coat,” Ben replies.
“Hey, it’s New York in February. Everyone’s cold. Even the pigeons.”
Ben rolls his eyes, scoops up the small cat, and marches back into the building. I scamper after him. What’s he going to do? Stuff it in the trash?
“Thiago, please, can you give this cat something to eat and drink and see if its owner claims it?”
I hang back as they talk about the cat. Thiago has noticed it’s been outside the last few mornings, but it doesn’t seem to belong to anyone in the building. It doesn’t have a collar.
“We should check to see if it’s microchipped,” I say.
“The cat?” Ben asks.
I shoot him a look that says, No, my ass!
“How do we check that?” he asks.
“We need to take it to a vet.”
Ben groans, sticks the cat on the reception desk, texts someone on his phone, then picks up the cat again.
“Let’s go,” he says.
“We’re taking the cat to the gym?” I ask.
“We’re taking it to the vet’s. There’s one on Delancy that’s open.”
As we get outside, a car pulls up on the curb, and I recognize the driver as the one who took me home on Sunday morning.
“We’ve ditched the gym for kitten rescuing?” I ask, hopefully.
Ben opens the back door and I slide in.
“We can do the right thing by the cat, then go to the gym,” he says, as he takes a seat next to me. His tone is a little more stern than I’m used to from him. But maybe he’s one of those guys who has to follow a set schedule and this adorable cat is throwing him off.
“How often do you go to the gym?” I ask, as I reach over to stroke the cat, who seems very content to be in Ben’s arms. I get it, Cat, I get it.
“Couple of times a week. Usually I meet Deacon.”
“Will he be there today?” Maybe Aurora will be there as well and we can hang out. Although, then I have to explain what I’m doing with Ben and…Urgh. This is such a mess. I should have thought this through better.
“No, if we meet, it’s at lunchtime during the week. He has his hands full at the weekends with Willow and a pregnant fiancée.”
“But you meet for bro time in the week? That’s cute.”
“I can’t respond to that while I’m holding a ball of white fluff.” He narrows his eyes at me, and I can’t tell if he’s really irritated or if he’s pretending.
I can’t help it if the poor cat needed rescuing. But I accept it’s sweet that Ben gave enough of a shit to find out if the cat’s microchipped. Or maybe this is all part of his agenda to get me to fall in love with him. It’s going to take more than a single cat rescue.