Off Limits(47)

“I'm sure I do,” Chris said, heading into the kitchen area. He rooted around in the fridge for a moment, then came out with a glass pitcher of juice. “Here we are. I had to double-check that this wasn't one of the ones that are spiked.”

Chris poured a large glass of orange juice, emptying the pitcher. “Oh. Well, there's some other stuff in there, and I think the carton of milk is calling my name right now. Here, go ahead.”

I brought the glass to my lips, taking a deep drink. Chris watched me, smiling. His grin creeped me out, and I set the glass down. “What?”

“Nothing,” Chris said, turning back to the fridge. He opened it up and took out a half-gallon jug of milk, breaking the seal. “Nothing at all.”





Chapter 14





Dane





It was the best weekend I'd had in over five years, I thought as I lounged back on the couch. After getting home on Saturday night, I'd used the Internet to look at a few apartment listings online, and I was interested enough in two of them that I made plans to go see them on Sunday. The second complex was by appointment only, and while not great, it was pretty close to the Georgia Tech campus, had reasonable rent, included utilities and even a shared Wi-Fi connection that I could use. I booked an appointment to see one of their open units for Sunday afternoon, then went to bed.

Waking up, I enjoyed my morning workout and a shower before eating a light breakfast. As I ate, I pondered how best to talk with Chris about Abby. It shouldn’t too much of a problem. After all, they’d been split for a while now, but still, there would probably be some weirdness that I wanted to minimize. Even if I was going to move out, Chris really helped me, and I didn’t want to do him wrong. And frankly, bringing your friend's ex-girlfriend back to his place while you’re crashing with him is just too weird—even for me.

When Abby first messaged me, I was a bit disappointed, but I understood. In the little bit of checking around I'd been able to do, Patrick Rawlings had struck me as the sort of guy who had gotten his success via a lot of hard work and a deep-seated stubborn streak that you didn't want to mess with. If even his own daughter had to sit back and think about the best way to approach him about our relationship, then I had to respect her point of view.

Besides, Abby constantly impressed me. Of course she was beautiful, as even the memory of us having sex on the side of the river, with the hum of the insects in the background, had caused my cock to stir lazily in my shorts. There was no need to do anything about it, though, as I knew that soon enough, Abby and I would be together again.

After lunch, I went over to the apartment and met the landlord. She was an Asian woman named Lynn, and when she looked over my application, she was reservedly impressed. “Well, Mr. Bell, it looks like you at least have a job,” she said. “We get some folks in here who can't even claim that.”

“Can I ask you, what percentage of your clients are students?” I asked, thinking that was what Lynn was talking about. “My girlfriend is going to do her Master's at Tech, and I was kind of hoping she might be able to crash here every once in a while.”

“Not a lot of Tech students around here, but there are still quite a few students,” Lynn answered with a shrug. “When I said no job, I meant nothing at all. The only way I take those folks is with two months’ deposit up front in cash or money order. Then when their section eight comes in, I get our money. Still, sometimes it's not worth the hassle.”

“And you don't have a problem with my background?” I asked incredulously. “No offense, just a lot of people have.”

“Hey, you gotta stay somewhere,” Lynn said. “I'll be honest with you, Mr. Bell. I'm not going to say you're going to make the wall of fame for this place. But I deal with some bad folks every week. If you pay your rent, don't destroy the place, and generally don't raise hell, I'll be happy. Then again, people like that rarely end up staying around here. They move on up and out.”

We shook hands and I returned back to the apartment, stopping at a bookstore and picking up an interesting book. It was just a book on architecture, but it looked intriguing to me, and despite the rather hefty price tag of forty bucks, I didn't mind paying. I got home and decided that the best thing to do on such a relaxing day was just lounging on the couch. I sent Abby another text message and plopped down with my new book, intrigued almost immediately as I read about some of the great designers of the late twentieth century.

I was just reading about the background of Zaha Hadid when the door to the apartment opened and Chris came in. He was out of breath and sweating, but he looked happy, excited. In fact, I hadn't seen him this happy in a long time. “Hey, Dane! Great f*ckin' day, ain't it?”

I realized what had gone on—Chris was drunk. I figured after the party he'd had Saturday, and with him not even coming home the night before, that he'd had enough. Apparently not, though, much to my disappointment. “Hey, Chris. Yeah, great day. What have you been up to?”

“Oh, this and that,” Chris said with a laugh. He came in and took the chair opposite of the sofa, kicking his muddy shoes up onto the coffee table. “I see you got a new book. Good story?”

“Kinda,” I said with a shrug. “It's a book on famous architects. So there isn't exactly a lot of plot to the thing. Still, the story about some of them, it is kinda interesting to see where they drew their ideas from, stuff like that.”