"You have a BMW too?"
I nod and light up a cigarette as I start the truck and pull out of the lot. "Yeah. It's much lower to the ground."
She looks out the windshield, wide-eyed at the traffic around us, clinging to the armrest on her door. "Holy shit. We're so high up. You can totally drive right over the other cars."
"If we wanted to, hell yeah, I could."
She giggles. "Let's not do that."
The team gave us a guideline sheet we're supposed to follow, and the first order of business is to move in together, whether we move in to one of our own homes together, or get an entirely new place to live. The latter is my preference since I live in a condo with my brother, and we sure as hell wouldn't have any privacy as a couple living with him. We're supposed to check out each other’s places before we decide, though, so we stop at my place first.
"This is really nice," she comments as we head up the walkway to my front door.
"Yeah, it is," I answer, unlocking the door. "I've lived here for about three years."
Once inside, she scans the condo with a small frown, probably because it's a bit of a mess. But hey, two single guys live here, and Mikah is kind of a slob and just throws stuff anywhere and everywhere.
"Sorry for the clutter… We had a maid, but she was stealing our stuff to sell on eBay."
"Oh, wow. That's terrible."
"Yeah, some people will buy anything. Like my dirty socks. Do you believe that?
Her face scrunches up. "That's pretty gross."
"It is," I agree. "So, me and my brother Mikah live here. He's the drummer in the band. Not sure if you remember him from the wedding." She shakes her head. "But I don't think this would be a good place for us to live, for obvious reasons."
"Why not? I'm a great fucking roommate." We both turn to see Mikah coming down the stairs from the second floor where the four bedrooms are. His long, dark hair is a tangled mop on his head, his eyes bloodshot and puffy, with dark circles shadowing them. He looks completely hungover.
"Dude, did you get drunk at my wedding last night? You're a fucking mess."
He opens the refrigerator and grabs a soda. "I did." He narrows his half-opened eyes at us. "What the hell are you two doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be on your honeymoon? Or is this game over already?"
"It's not a game," Asia tells him with a hint of defensiveness in her voice, and it kind of makes me proud of her. I like a chick who won't take crap from people.
"We're going on the honeymoon later," I say. "First, we need to move in together."