Damian moved into the guest suite at the end of last week. Since he’s keeping his own apartment, he didn’t move any furniture in. Just his clothes and personal items plus the stuff he needs to work on his dissertation. His rooms in my condo are large and comfortable and include an attached sitting room with a couch, television, desk, and a kitchenette. Had he wanted, he could have spent nearly all his time there. Part of me had expected it since he seemed concerned about his privacy.
And part of me wants to ask him to stay there.
But it’s not a part of me that I like. It’s not fair to expect his life for the next six months to be limited to a couple of rooms in my condo. If he’s going to live here, I need to let him live here. I’ll just need to get used to the distractions.
“No,” I tell him after a very brief hesitation. “I don’t want that. I’ve lived alone since college, so it’s going to take some adjusting for me. But it’s my problem. Not yours. I’ll get used to it.”
“Okay.” He levels a look at me. “Thanks.”
“No need to thank me. I’d be a pretty big jerk if I told you to stay in your room for six months.”
He gives a half shrug. “Not necessarily. You’re paying a lot for my services, and you’re not asking me to provide all that much in return. I’ll stay out of your way if you prefer.”
“No need. I’ll get used to the chewing.”
He gives another huff. I’m almost certain this one is amusement. “I’ll try to chew softer.”
That seems to resolve the conversation, so I turn back to my work. Maybe Damian is trying to reduce the sound of his chewing, but it doesn’t work. I can still hear him.
After a few minutes, I say out of the blue, “I would have thought you were a smoothie guy.”
He lowers his spoon. It looks like he’s almost done anyway. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. You just look like one of those guys who work out all the time and drink some sort of superfood organic smoothie with a bunch of kale and stuff in it.”
He gives his head a small shake. “I’m not one of those guys.”
“Then how do you have that body?” This is yet another example of my blurting things out that more careful people would keep inside.
He looks down at himself, as if remembering the condition of his own body. He raises his eyes again to meet mine. The blue-green color of them is so intense I can see it even from here. It’s highly unnerving.
“I mean, look at you,” I tell him by way of explanation. “You can’t tell me you look like that naturally.”
“I do work out most days. But not all the time. I used to do more when I was working a lot for Companions for Hire, but since I backed off with them, I’m not so committed. And I try to be basically healthy, but I eat normal food. I like cereal.”
“Me too.”
“My guess would be that you like it partly because it takes no time or effort to prepare.”
“Why would you assume that?”
“Isn’t it true?”
Of course it’s true. I have little patience for cooking and prefer food that’s basically ready to eat. “Whether it’s true or not isn’t the point. Why would you think that?”
“Because it seems like you’d get annoyed with cooking for taking up time you’d prefer to use otherwise. Am I right?”
I scowl at him. He takes that as the affirmative it is and gives me a smug little smile.
I scowl again.
“I believe that’s a yes.” He stands up to get himself another cup of coffee, and my eyes linger on his butt as he walks.
He definitely works out. No man has a butt like that without working on it.
I really want to squeeze it. Just to see what it would feel like.
He glances over his shoulder as he pours the coffee, almost catching me in the leer. “I thought you were working.”
“I was trying. But you’re kind of distracting.”
“I wouldn’t have thought anything could distract you.” He turns to face me with his coffee, leaning over the peninsula.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because it’s pretty obvious. You’re one of those people who can focus completely. It’s like whatever you’re working on is the most important thing in the world. And you don’t like things that pull you way.”