Chapter 15
This man had a dossier about me. And here I was, drawing blanks on what he did when he wasn’t coming up with dares and catching a football.
“This was supposed to be a get to know each other meeting?” I whispered, the question more for me than him. Shame burned in my cheeks as I realized I was severely outmatched.
David watched me. It was the perfect time to gloat, and yet he remained silent. He didn’t shove the long list of facts he’d collected on my life and personality in my face when he had every right to do so.
“If you need a fake partner,” David said, voice slower and almost gentle.
“I’m better than most. I know your family dynamics, understand your idiosyncrasies, and can anticipate your disapproval.
The interaction would be seamless. Damage to psyche, minimal.
The gossip mill would be bored with us in two seconds because I’m not fresh meat like Haven.
They’ve already gotten a taste of me and have spat me out. ”
“You still want to… do it?” My guilt chewed through my carotid arteries, set on seeing me bleed out. I had half a mind to give in. I’d gone on about us not knowing each other and him not caring, and now look at me, standing in front of a table he’d set with delicate details of my life.
“I’m willing,” he said. “Want is a whole other matter I didn’t plan on factoring in.”
He had the upper hand, stood on the high ground, and I couldn’t figure out how to switch things.
What bothered me more was I couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t rubbing this in my face.
He wasn’t jumping at the chance to make me feel like a jerk for not being able to say half the amount of things he’d shared about me.
“It’s going to rain.” David’s gaze upturned, taking in the cloudy night sky. “What’s it going to be?”
“I… I’m willing to not to break up prematurely,” I said. “Now that you’ve expressed… interest in this relationship.”
He scoffed and a smile played on his lips. “Alright, let’s go.”
Instead of heading back to the cafe, David started in the opposite direction.
“Where are we going?” I jogged to catch up.
“My place is around the corner,” he said.
“Your place?” Another white blob of a thing in my map of his world. My stomach jumped in excitement to see something of his that was tangible, proof he existed outside of the bubble we warred in.
Rain started to trickle down when we neared the athletes’ row. The buildings here were newer, brighter, and cleaner, and iron plates engraved with donors’ names and dates paved their walk.
“Keep up,” he warned when I lingered at a gray fountain made of marble and home to an impressive football statue shooting out water from atop his helmet.
“Did you find the 1915 there?” I teased, my smile growing when he glared and held the door open for me.
Their lobby smelled of Pine-Sol and pears.
When the elevator opened for us, we faced a mirror, and I couldn’t help but note our stark differences and the climb we’d have to make to become a cohesive couple.
His messy hair and my ‘no flyaways’ policy signaled a discrepancy.
David’s shoulders slouched from his high school wallpaper years.
My posture was tall, thanks to classes in manners and etiquette that began as soon as I could form a sentence.
“How do you feel about color coordinating?” I asked.
“What?”
“I’m brainstorming ways to make us look like we fit together.”
David hadn’t glanced in the mirror before, but he was staring at us in it now. “We look fine together.”
“Fine and fitting are two very different things.”
He continued to stare and surprised me by moving closer until he stood behind me.
I could feel the heat of his body, a solid energy.
There was a lump in my throat when he looked down at me.
I kept my gaze straight, transfixed on the curious way he was scanning my profile.
When he looked at me like that, we looked fine.
Great, even. It didn’t make any sense, but we were a mismatched outfit that somehow worked.
I pulled my gaze from the mirror and met his. We were face-to-face for a second, close enough that our breaths mingled. Was it possible to miss something I’d only experienced one time?
David’s gaze fell on my lips, studying them as if he were trying to read words before I uttered them.
His hand pressed gently on my lower back as if to keep me in place for a second.
I didn’t feel like I was on solid ground anymore.
The aimless floating didn’t induce panic. I was as safe as I’d ever been.
I leaned closer to him as if some force tugged me. My heart was in my throat. Right when my nose brushed his, the elevator dinged. David pulled away, walking out unceremoniously, completely unfazed.
I laughed at myself in the mirror, rubbing my hand on my burning cheek.
It took a couple of seconds to regain my composure.
Once I did, I followed him to the end of the hall.
All the doors had bubble letters and stickers from bands or movies on them.
I knew which one was David’s before we reached it.
The door was blank, as if no one had moved in yet.
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” I said under my breath when he opened the door, revealing a clean, nearly empty studio. I kid not, there was a sparkle on his kitchen appliances, their cleanliness somewhat historical.
“Take off your shoes,” he said, gesturing to his own pair near the door.
I did as he said, still scanning the space as if I’d only get a couple of minutes to memorize everything before being told to leave.
His bed set was deep green, with the sheets tucked tightly underneath the mattress.
The comforter folded perfectly, draped over the bottom of the bed.
David had two pieces of art on the walls.
One: a print of Mount Rainier. The colors were bright and saturated, and the texture was like oil.
The other print was of a very sad-looking, anamorphic bird.
“Are you thirsty?”
I jumped at his voice, so lost in wondering why the contrasting prints felt so him. “Huh?”
David raised a brow and held up two choices: a water and a sports drink.
I shook my head and shrugged out of my blazer. “I’m fine.”
“Here.” David hurried over before I could rest it on the back of his couch.
I let him have it, figuring it was something he needed to be particular about. “Should I sit or wait for a bedsheet or something?”
“What?” David flashed me a confused look as he tugged my blazer over a wooden hanger and carefully set it on the rack.
The crisp pink plaid stood out amongst his black and blue collection of sweatshirts.
I had the urge to add more to the mix, to make it an even amount.
Level the playing field. Make it easier to see how it’d look if we lived together…
Relax, Yara. It was one kiss.
I didn’t even know what I meant about living together. I wouldn’t be able to stand anyone other than Haven as a roommate.
“I had an aunt like you,” I said, careful with every word that left my lips because, just like my picking, this was uncharted territory for both of us.
“She didn’t like us sitting on her furniture with outside clothes on.
And she couldn’t —not for lack of trying— get us to wash up and change into fresh clothes every time we visited. So, she wrapped everything in plastic.”
“I don’t care if you sit on my couch, Yara.” He sounded exhausted, and I frowned. Well, screw me for trying to be considerate.
I plopped down on his couch and dumped my bag down beside me. He eyed the bag but didn’t say a thing as he took a seat on the edge of his bed.
The space between us was small, filled only by a circular wooden coffee table.
There were a couple of textbooks stacked neatly, accompanied by a straight line of pens and pencils.
I unloaded my laptop, pulling up the document I’d set up for our deep dive.
David cracked open a water bottle. I watched his neck bob as he took a few sips.
The veins in his hand were prominent as he clutched the bottle.
I traced those veins down his forearm, all the way to his elbow.
“Yara,” his voice tugged my gaze back to his face.
I blinked and looked back down at my screen as if I hadn’t been burning a hole through his skin.
“You ready?” The amusement in his voice set my skin aflame.
“Yeah, just waiting for you to rehydrate,” I muttered. “You gulp like a goat.”
“What was that?”
“Let’s start from the top.” I cleared my throat. “Shall we?”
He chuckled and gestured for me to continue.
“Favorite holiday?” I asked.
David’s brow furrowed. “How is that at the top?”
“Just answer the question,” I said. “Mine’s New Year’s Eve.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “New beginnings. Fresh starts. It’s fun creating mood boards. Everything feels possible right after the clock changes.”
David nodded. “Of course. I should have guessed that one.”
I didn’t react to his disparaging sigh because I’m the bigger person. And I’m also the person in need, so I let the pettiness go for the night.
“I don’t like holidays,” he said simply.
I swallowed a sigh and tried to smile. “That’s… valid.”
It killed me not to argue. David grinned and leaned back on his hands. I didn’t look at the small bit of skin revealed when his shirt lifted. Or rather, I didn’t look long.
“You really think so?”
My gaze flickered to the new shape his arms made in this position. I shifted my weight on the cushion, testing out a better position.
“I do.” I typed down his answer, taking more time than necessary because I couldn’t quite get my fingers to work with my brain.
“Next question,” I said, a little breathy. “Any allergies?”
“Chocolate. You?”
“Fish,” I said. “What did you want to be growing up?”
“A landscaper,” David said simply.
I paused. “Landscaper?”