his name on the bottom of what seems like an endless page before sliding the whole thing over to me. I grab the pen and sign before I can start overthinking it again. I am ready for this; we are ready for this. Yes, we are young and we haven’t known each other very long, but I know that I love him more than anything and he loves me. As long as that much is certain, the rest will fall into place.
“All right, here are your keys.” Robert, whose name I finally learned from all those pages, hands Hardin and me each a set of keys, bids us farewell, and is on his way.
I laugh and step closer to him so he can wrap his arms around me.
“I can’t believe we live here now. It still doesn’t seem real.” My eyes scan the living room.
“If someone had told me I would be living with you—let alone dating you—two months ago, I would have either laughed in their face or punched them . . . either one.” He smiles and takes my face between his hands.
“Well, aren’t you sweet?” I tease and put my hands on his sides. “It’s a relief, though, to have our own space. No more parties, no more roommates and community showers,” I say.
“Our own bed,” he adds with a wiggle of his eyes. “We will need to get a few things, dishes and such.”
I touch the back of my hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?” I smile. “You’re being awfully cooperative today.”
He brushes my hand aside, then gives the back of it a little kiss. “I just want to make sure you are pleased with everything here. I want you to feel at home . . . with me.”
“And what about you? Do you feel at home here?” I ask him.
“Surprisingly enough, yes,” he answers, nodding, and looks around the room.
“We should go get my stuff. I don’t have much but a few books and my clothes,” I say.
He waves his arms in the air as if he has performed some sort of magic trick. “Already done.”
“What?” I ask.
“I brought all of your belongings from your room; they are in your trunk,” he explains.
“How did you know I would sign? What if I hated the apartment?” I smile. I do wish I had had the chance to say goodbye to Steph and the room that I called home for three months, but I’ll see her again soon.
“Because if you wouldn’t have liked this one, I would have found one that you did,” he answers confidently.
“Okay . . . Well, what about your stuff?”
“We can get it tomorrow. I have clothes in my trunk.”
“What is with that, anyway?” He always has so many clothes in his car.
“I don’t know, really. I guess you just never know when you will need clothes.” He shrugs. “Let’s go to the store and get all the shit we need for the kitchen and some food,” Hardin says.
“Okay.” My stomach has been full of butterflies since I stepped into the apartment. “Can I drive your car again?” I ask when we get down to the lobby.
“I don’t know . . .” He smiles.
“You painted my car without my permission. I think I have earned the privilege.” I hold out my hands and he rolls his eyes before dropping the keys into them.
“So you like my car, then? It drives nicely, doesn’t it?”
I give him a coy look. “It’s okay.”
I lie; I love the way it drives.
Our building could not be located in a better place; we’re close to multiple stores, coffee shops, and even a park. We end up going to Target, and soon the cart is full of dishes, pots and pans, cups, and other things I didn’t know we would need but seem useful. We save the groceries for another trip since we already have so much stuff. I volunteer to go grocery shopping after my internship tomorrow if Hardin makes me a list of things he likes to eat. The best thing so far about living together is all the small details about Hardin that I would have otherwise never known. He’s so stingy with information, it’s nice to get some of out him without a fight. Even though we spend almost every night together, by just buying things for our place, I’m finding out things that I would have never known. Like: he likes cereal with