12. Sierra
SIERRA
“ Y ou never know,” Ro said from the passenger seat of my old beater as we followed the moving truck Finn had sent to pack up my things this morning. “Living together might not be that bad. Maybe you and Finn will hit it off.”
“In close quarters?” I said, rolling my eyes. “We’ll be lucky if we don’t kill each other.”
I’d managed to put off the move to Finn’s condo until this weekend, but according to Jillian and her magical PR plan, I couldn’t put it off anymore.
If we really wanted to sell this engagement to the tabloids, we needed to curate opportunities for Finn and me to be seen together, and apparently—horribly—that would be easier to do if we were living together.
“I’m still trying to process the fact that you got caught up in an engagement scandal with the Behind-the-Scenes Beefcake,” Ro said. “How come I’m never tabloid fodder? I’d enjoy it so much more than you! I need to start hanging around after hours. ”
“I wasn’t trying to get caught up in anything,” I insisted. “Not this engagement. And definitely not moving in with him.”
“Where’s he live again?” Ro asked as we turned onto the freeway.
“Silver Lake,” I said, drumming my thumb against the steering wheel. In his big, swanky penthouse condo. I’d looked it up the moment he gave me the address. “I probably couldn’t even afford the dust in his place.”
“He probably doesn’t even have dust in his place,” Ro said.
“True. He has people for that.”
She laughed. “I guess you’re one of his people now.”
“I am not his people. Or his person. Or whatever.”
“You’re going to be living in his place,” Ro pointed out. “That makes you something. His roommate at the very least.”
I groaned, changing lanes to stay with the movers. “I know! It’s so freaking weird!”
“But hey…” Ro said. “There are pluses. You’re closer to work, so you’ll spend less money on gas and less time stuck in traffic.”
“Right.”
“You get to stick it to Trey and his movie.”
“Yes.”
“And Finn is hot as fu?—”
“That’s not why I’m doing this,” I said, cutting her off.
“I didn’t say it was. But having eye candy on tap is a definite perk, don’t you think? What’s that?” she said, nodding to the blue velvet box I’d left on the console between the seats .
“It showed up with the army of movers Finn sent over,” I said. “I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Why not? The man sent you a jewelry box. That should be investigated immediately.” Ro picked it up, gasping. “Oh, is this your fake engagement ring?”
I grimaced. “Probably. I’m afraid to find out. I sort of imagined it going a little differently the first time a guy gave me a ring like that.”
“Oh my god, it’s a Veritique! You have to open it.”
I snorted. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“Exclusive. Expensive. Open it.”
“No.”
“Maybe you’re just afraid you’ll open it and like it,” Ro said, returning the box to the console.
I snorted. “Doubtful.” Finn hardly knew anything about me. There’s no way he’d have clocked my taste in jewelry and it certainly wouldn’t be some exclusive brand.
“I think you’ll like it a little. The same way you like Finn a little.”
“Nope,” I said, snapping the P , knowing very well I was living in that pit called denial.
“Be honest,” Ro said. “If you didn’t like him a teeny bit, you never would have agreed to this. And we already know you’re attracted to him.”
“I said he was attractive by societal standards.”
“You’re part of society.”
I huffed, letting out a long, slow breath. Okay, fine, so I found him attractive. Who could blame me? It’s not like Finn looked like an ogre. He only acted like one. On occasion.
“All jokes aside,” Ro said, “I hope you’re getting more than some fancy penthouse vacation out of all this. I know you want to stick it to Trey, but I also know how much Finn frustrates you.”
“Well…” I said, following the moving truck to the exit. “I didn’t want to say anything before, because I didn’t want you to feel weird about it. Or to try to talk me out of the deal.”
“Mm-hmm,” Ro said, eyeing me suspiciously. “Sounds like you’ve been scheming.”
“Just a little. So I told you about how I said no to the idea at first, but then changed my mind because of Trey. What I didn’t mention was that when I went to talk to Finn about it, he’d changed his mind too—but he thought he still had to convince me.”
“So…what did he offer?”
“He said he’d let you direct a Hart of Gold production if I did this for him.”
“What?” Ro said so loudly it could have shattered my eardrum. “You’re kidding!” She latched onto my arm, shaking me. “Sierra! Tell me you’re joking, because you can’t possibly be serious.”
I chuckled. “I wouldn’t kid about this kind of thing.”
“He actually said that?”
“He did. And of course I said yes.” A move like this could change everything for Ro.
Ro’s face crumpled like she was about to cry. “You’re the freaking best, you know that?”
“I know. And no tears. ”
“I’m not crying,” she said, voice thick. “I’m gonna make sure Finn is the best damn roommate you’ve ever had. And that he doesn’t give you a hard time.”
“Or he’ll have to deal with you?” I teased.
“Yes. And I won’t be as nice as you.”
“I’m not nice.”
Ro hummed. “You’re way too nice. Especially to losers like Trey who never deserved you in the first place.”
I rolled my eyes. Trey was super competitive in a lot of ways, especially when it came to arguing, and I got used to just letting him win because I honestly didn’t care enough to be bothered.
And yet all I seemed to do was argue with Finn.
Which I guess meant that, unlike with Trey, part of me liked arguing with Finn. I was loath to admit it, but I almost looked forward to it. There was just this energy between us I couldn’t help enjoying.
“This must be the building,” Ro said as the moving truck turned into a parking lot at the foot of a massive tower.
“Looks like it,” I said, pulling into a visitor’s parking spot. For a beat, we both just sat there ogling the giant slate gray structure.
“Should we go up?” Ro asked.
“Guess so,” I said, turning off the engine. Ro followed me into the lobby of the building, where the concierge said he’d been expecting me. He put one of the elevators on service for the movers to start loading boxes and directed me to another elevator.
I used the key fob Finn had sent over to access the penthouse unit. Once we’d arrived at the top floor, we stepped out into a hallway with only one door .
“Guess you’re not really gonna get to know the neighbors,” Ro joked.
“Should I knock?”
Ro shook her head. “You live here now.” And with that, she grabbed the door handle and gave it a push. It opened to reveal a sea of luxury. Everything was white marble and dark hardwood floors and shiny glass windows.
“It’s even more gorgeous than I expected,” Ro whispered.
We walked inside. The place was pristine. I slipped off my shoes, afraid of scuffing up the floor.
“Okay, either the guy employs some crazy-amazing cleaners or he’s just a neat freak,” Ro said. “Even his coffee table books are perfectly placed.” I remembered him adjusting the fabric bolts at the store. Definitely a neat freak.
It felt more like a model home. It was beautiful, but it could use some pictures or fresh-cut flowers or a throw blanket on the couch to prove that someone actually lived here.
“If you’re looking for me, I’ll be over here picking my jaw up off the floor,” Ro said, walking toward the giant floor-to-ceiling windows to check out the view.
Before I could respond, the movers showed up with my first load of boxes. “Where do you want these?”
“Oh, um…” Finn had told me I was staying in the guest room, but I had no idea where that was in this place.
“Just here I guess.” He dropped the load in the middle of the living room and set off for another.
I grabbed a box of perishables I’d packed in a hurry this morning—mostly the dairy Ro’s lactose-intolerant self would never eat—and carried it into Finn’s fancy kitchen.
I opened the fridge with my sleeve over my hand, afraid to leave fingerprints on the door handle as I plunked my milk and cheese and yogurt onto the shelves.
Ju dging by the neatly arranged rows of oat milk and vitamin water, I could tell I’d just messed up Finn’s perfectly organized system.
“That’s not where the dairy goes.”
I gasped, almost whacking my head on the fridge as I whirled around. Finn eyeballed my good-old two-percent carton with disdain. “Move,” he said, waving me out of the way, grumbling as he adjusted everything. He opened my container of yogurt and sniffed. “Is this even good anymore?”
“It expires today.” I yanked it out of his hands. “I’m still eating it.”
He looked appalled at the thought of almost-expired goods in his fridge and cleared space around the container as I replaced it.
“It’s not a biohazard,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Might as well be.”
“Well, maybe I should get my own shelf then.”
“So you can bring in more of your questionable food products?” He scowled at me. “No. Make me a list of what you want, and I’ll have the housekeeper track down products that are not on the verge of sentient life.”
“I can buy my own food.” I put more things in the fridge, and he immediately rearranged them. “You know a relationship is about compromise, right? Even a fake one.”
“Okay then, how’s this for a compromise? You stop trying to contaminate everything in my fridge, and I will cook dinner.” He waved me out of the kitchen.
Was this a good deal? On the one hand, I wasn’t about to say no to food I didn’t have to prepare or order myself.
On the other hand, did he even know how to cook?
Was I about to get food poisoning? Maybe I’d be better off with my yogurt.
It wasn’t actually bad yet, just…borderline.
I picked up another box of food items. “But I have more?—”
Finn snatched it from me. “I’ll deal with this. You go unpack the rest.”
I turned around, a tension headache already throbbing behind my eyes. “What the hell is that?” I cried as a hairless, wrinkled thing with wide-set eyes, pointed ears, and a whip-like tail went slinking by me.