a sofa and I wasn’t paying for a hotel. Fuck that.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Do I have to put on a bra? Because if I have to put on a bra, I’m not going.” I blinked at him matter-of-factly. I also wasn’t taking the curlers out, for reasons already covered.
My comment earned me a break in the serious expression. I let him pull me from the sofa and I made him wait while I popped two more Motrin for the road. I was on day eleven of my period and there was no sign of it letting up, but at least it had finally downgraded from ultras to regulars.
I tried to see the silver panty liner whenever I could.
* * *
Josh’s apartment was a studio full of boxes. He had a mattress on the floor with a sleeping bag for a blanket and a single lamp next to it that constituted all the furniture in the room. It smelled faintly like him: clean cedar.
He was opening boxes labeled “bedroom” while I waited, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“You still haven’t done much unpacking,” I said, looking around. I peeked into a cabinet by the microwave and found it empty.
He closed the lid to the box he was in and ripped open the next one. “I work forty-eight-hour shifts and then I go to your place and build stairs for tiny dogs. I haven’t exactly had time.”
He pulled out a black metal box and unlocked it. He reached in and came out with a small hand cannon.
“Wow. That’s a big gun.”
“You know, you’re not the first woman to tell me that.” He smirked, shaking out a few bullets from a box and loading it while I watched.
Goddamn it was sexy.
My phone pinged.
Sloan: Is Josh still there?
I thumbed in a reply.
Kristen: Sloan, some serious alpha male shit is going on right now. I need to focus.
Sloan: What are you talking about?
Kristen: He’s pulled out his gun and he’s showing it to me. It’s HUGE. I’ll call you tomorrow.
I turned off my ringer, imagining the horrified look on Sloan’s face and grinning to myself.
I looked back at Josh. “Brandon should come help you unpack.”
He put the gun back into the box. “It’s fine. It’s just clothes. I’ll get to it eventually. Celeste took everything in the house.” He stood up.
“You let her?” I asked, sliding open a drawer by the sink. A single plastic fork and two ketchup packets sat inside. “This place is depressing.” No wonder he hung out after he was done working in the garage.
“I didn’t feel right leaving her with an empty house. She stuck me with some bills that I would have liked to leave her too,” he said, looking around the room like he only now realized how the place must look. “She’s dating a guy named Brad.”
I scoffed. “Brad? I bet he wears pink cargo shorts and smells like Axe body spray.”
He laughed and leaned against the counter across from me, crossing his legs at the ankles.
I cleared my throat. “My futon really sucks. Are you sure you want to do this?”
Not that I wasn’t appreciative of the gesture. I would feel better having him there.
If Tyler wasn’t moving in, someone like Josh would be the perfect roommate. He had a stable job. He was gone half the week, so I’d still have alone time, and he was really cool to hang out with.
The attraction I had to him was a major issue. I couldn’t live long-term with a guy I’d want to hook up with—because I probably would. It would just be way too convenient. But I’d always liked the idea of a male roommate. I’d never had the option because I’d lived with Sloan right out of high school, which was great. But in another universe, I would totally have lived with a man.
He crossed his arms over his magnificent chest. “Yes, I want to do this. If something happened to you because I didn’t, I couldn’t live with it.”
I cocked my head, my curlers shifting. “When did you stop drawing penises on stuff?”
He snorted. “What?”
“Like, how old were you when you stopped drawing penises on stuff? I was just thinking how great a guy roommate would be and I realized the only downside would be finding penises drawn in the steam on the bathroom mirror.”
His dimpled smile made me grin.
“I just drew a penis on Brandon’s truck the other day.”