Room-maid(13)

“I can’t make that kind of promise.”

“Okay, okay. But if Tyler asks about me, I am single and ready to mingle!” She smiled and shook her head. She waved one last time and got into her car, then drove off. I headed back inside, eager to start my new life. When I got to the apartment, Tyler’s door was still closed and I went into my room and opened the closest box.

There were sweaters I had forgotten I even owned. At Shay’s place I had been basically living out of a few suitcases and had left most of my wardrobe in boxes. After I’d pulled out the sweaters, I found a bunch of underwear next. Cute underwear! I had so much of it!

Too bad there was no one else to see it.

I went through a bunch more boxes and found skirts and dresses and jeans and blouses and so many things that I was excited to wear again. In the fourth box I opened I found my kitchen mug, the one Shay had got me at graduation that said WORLD’S BEST TEACHER. I brought it into the kitchen and was surprised to find Tyler at the stove, humming to himself as he cooked.

Little shivers of awareness shot through me at the sight of him. His shoulders were so broad and he was so deliciously tall and his arms were just perfectly formed and . . . I forced myself to clear my throat and said, “Hi.”

I wanted to roll my eyes at myself because that was so stupid. We were roommates. I couldn’t say hi to him every time I saw him.

Fortunately, he didn’t call me out on my dumbness. “Hey, I’m making some fettuccine Alfredo. Would you like some?”

He was going to feed me? Did he not understand the possible fallout from that? He was obviously going to make me fall in love with him. Be an adult who respects rules, I told myself as I put my mug down on the counter. I sat on the barstool in front of the island. “I would love some.”

Nodding at my mug, he said, “Do you need help unpacking?”

Oh. He assumed that I was a normal person and had more things to put in the kitchen besides one single mug. “No, I’m good. It kind of feels like Christmas, only for stuff you already own. I’d forgotten half of the things in there. Like the Birkin bag my grandmother gave me for graduation. It’s one of my favorite things in the whole world.” My mother had been livid when I opened it. It was one of the bags from the first Birkin line and my mom had been certain she would add this particular heirloom to her stash.

She had been pretty shocked, too, when I’d refused to hand it over.

“It’s a good thing you have such a great attitude about it. Most people would just see it as a chore. Oh, speaking of . . .” He turned around to grab a piece of paper off the fridge. “So, full disclosure, I copied this off one of those house-organizational websites. I thought it might be helpful. But if you don’t want to do things this way, it’s totally up to you.”

He handed me the paper and it was a list of chores for the apartment. Dusting, vacuuming, washing the windows. Cleaning toilets. Ick. My stomach sank at the prospect. I hadn’t even thought about that. I was going to need one of those full-on hazmat suits to do it.

“Don’t worry about my room or my bathroom. Like I said, I’ll clean up after myself. This is just some deeper cleaning in the general areas. Are you good with that?”

“Yes.” I was going to have to be, wasn’t I?

“While I’m thinking about it, I have my calendar hanging up on the fridge so that you know when I’ll be here and when I won’t. I’m flying out for New York first thing in the morning and I’ll be gone for a few days.”

“That’s thoughtful, thank you.”

Tyler nodded and grabbed two plates. He started dishing them up but I stopped him by saying, “Not very much for me. I have to go over to my parents’ house later for dinner.”

“Sure thing. You don’t seem very happy about it. Having dinner with your parents. You kind of make it sound like you’re going to a funeral.”

“The night’s still young, so it’s too early to rule that out.” Realizing Tyler might not get my sense of humor, I added, “Sorry, my family doesn’t put me in the best mood.”

“Oh, I get that all too well.” He flashed me a bone-melting grin as he brought the plates over to the small dining room table between his kitchen and living room. “Would you grab some forks? They’re in the drawer closest to the dishwasher.”

I wasn’t a hundred percent sure which appliance was the dishwasher, but thankfully I guessed correctly and found the silverware. I came over to the table and handed him a fork. I tried not to gasp when our fingers brushed together, the sensation of his skin on mine again rendering me mindless.

He, apparently, did not have the same kind of reaction. “Thanks. Dig in!”

Despite his disinterest, I found myself wanting to “accidentally” touch him again, so I focused on the dinner instead. I twirled the pasta around my fork, brought it up to my mouth, and tried not to groan in pleasure as I began to eat it. This was so much better than Lucky Charms. “This is amazing.”

“I knew I liked you,” he said with a wink that made my stomach flop over.

“As long as you keep feeding me this way, I’ll give you whatever compliments you want.”

He laughed, and his laughter still had that same magical quality to it that made my insides feel fizzy and light. There was something about him that I couldn’t put my finger on. That I wasn’t allowed to put my finger on.