by Tara Brown
He smiled wide. “I had a feeling you were a history nerd.”
“Nice.”
He pulled me to the Symphony Station where we hopped onto a bus. He kept his head down when he sat, pulling me into the seat next to him.
“You are so weird sometimes.”
He flashed me the grin, the one that made my insides melt. Hating him was really hard. Not wanting to rub against him was worse.
“You are way weirder than I am.”
I stuck my tongue out. He leaned in, whispering, “Do it again and I will take it as an invitation to suck it.”
My stomach sank. I pulled back, almost wanting to stick my tongue out again. I swallowed so hard it almost hurt.
When the bus turned off of Huntington, I started to get a little lost. I didn’t know the area crazy well yet. I had only been on a few morning runs out this way. The bus stopped and he pushed me out of my chair, getting up and dragging me a little. “Where are we?”
“Park Street Station. We have a short walk.” He pulled me down Tremont Street. It was still sort of busy, like everyone was out to escape the heat of their houses. We walked past an old brick church and a building with columns. He stopped inside of two of the pale columns, leaning against one. His face was lit by the dim, old-fashioned lanterns in the doorway of the beautiful building. “I love this right here. The old church, the cool building here, and that view.” He pointed down toward a park. It was an amazing view. I realized suddenly we were standing outside of a graveyard. He pointed. “Granary Burying Ground.”
My jaw dropped. At night it was super creepy, but cool. “Samuel Adams, the woman who was possibly Mother Goose, John Hancock—I don’t even know them all.”
He didn’t look at it, he just watched me. I waited for a taxi to pass and ran across the street. The wrought iron gates and fence were closed up. I didn’t even hear him sneak up on me, but he was there suddenly. “They say it’s haunted.”
“I bet. It’s frickin’ old.”
He leaned against the gate. “Better than pretending to sleep on the couch?”
My cheeks lit up. I smiled. “I didn’t want you to think I was waiting up for you.”
“Sounds like you got caught with a guilty conscious.”
I glanced up at him, hating the smile on his lips. “Whatever. I was scared you had a hooker with you. Pretending to sleep was better than an awkward introduction to a girl you didn’t know the name of.”
“You really have the lowest opinion of me possible, don’t you?”
I nodded, half teasingly.
“Nice.”
“Loch, you have earned it. I mean, Lochlan.”
“I like it when you call me Loch.”
I didn’t have a response to that. I turned and looked back at the lantern-lit graveyard. “You know three people who signed the Declaration of Independence are buried here?”
“I actually do know that. I even know that last one’s name that has slipped your memory. Paine.”
I smiled, not expecting that at all. “Robert Treat Paine. That’s right. And Paul Revere.”
“And several members of the witch trial council.”
I wrinkled my nose. “The witch trials kinda freak me out.”
“Like society went backwards for a little bit.”
It was the smartest thing I had heard him say. He was different than I had expected him to be. The man whore wasn’t nearly as stupid as I had assumed. Unless of course he had read up on it before bringing me there. I looked back at the building with the columns and the way the lanterns were lit and asked, “This is your favorite spot so far?”
He looked back at the graveyard and the building across the road. It took him a moment before he shook his head. “No. I just really like it here. Very different from Nashville.”
I was completely lost with him in his quiet moment, like he was being serious for a reason. It lasted seconds before he offered me his hand again. “Ready to go back?”
I nodded and let him have my hand, it felt awkward not to. When we boarded the bus, he did the weird hunching thing again. It was strange, like he was hiding.
When we got back to Symphony Station, he pulled me off the bus, swinging my hand with his gently, like he was joking or we were completely comfortable with one another. It was baffling.
He was baffling.
We climbed the staircase to our apartment. When he opened the door, my stomach clenched. The butterflies he always put there were having a wrestling match. He paused at the door, not looking at me. “Please come to a show.”
I parted my lips, about to say yes, but I had a bad feeling about it—about it all. I shook my head. “I don’t think I want to see that side of you. I think I like this side, adding sleazy bar musician to your many attributes might not help our friendship.”
His jaw tightened and he forced the ugliest and most unnatural smile across his lips. It was much more of a grimace. “Okay.” He walked inside, leaving the door open for me. He went to the kitchen and grabbed the ice cream from the freezer. He offered me a spoon and took one.
I had hurt his feelings there, and yet he was still willing to break bread, or Ben and Jerry’s, with me. He really was weird. He leaned across the counter, giving me the most bizarre look as we dug into the Cherry Garcia.
“Cherry is my favorite ice cream.”
I smiled. “Mine too. I even like cherry frozen yogurt.”
“I don’t eat frozen yogurt. I figure if you’re going to have it, have the real thing. Why have the fake version of something?”
It felt like it was a shot at me somehow, I just didn’t know how. I went to bed that night and dreamt about him. I dreamt about his smile and his shy side, his sweet side. When I woke, he was sleeping still. I learned quickly that was what he did, stayed up late and slept half the day. It was nice.
We settled into a routine. He slept from four in the morning until noon, always alone, surprisingly. I made breakfast and went for runs, trying to learn where everything was before school started—always during the day and always with my mace. The city started to get friendlier, more inviting. I spent less time worrying about where I was, and more time enjoying myself.
Tom and Leslie emailed me twice to let me know nothing new had come up, but our life was so opposite that it was sort of like having my own place anyway. Except of course that Lochlan came with me everywhere, showing me cool historical sights and taking me on the bus, always acting like he was Harrison Ford in The Fugitive but it was fun to see everything through his eyes. I liked that he was showing me things he’d discovered, making the city easier for me. I noticed his roving eye had tamed a bit. I wanted to take credit for that. Deep down, I wanted us to be like that romance novel I’d read where the roommates fell in love. My main issue was his job. Lead singer in a random Boston band was not exactly how I figured a romantic story like that would happen. That was more like ‘how I spent spring break.’ I walked into the apartment after my run. The summers were smoking hot but also crazy humid. I wasn’t used to the humidity. I bustled about, picking his shit up from the floor and coffee tables. He came into the room as I was dumping an armload of wrappers and garbage into the garbage can. I had to do it before I could stretch. I hated clutter.
“You look hot.”
I flipped him the bird. “You’re up early, and why can’t you clean up after yourself? I asked you to please not leave shit everywhere.”
I grabbed the orange juice from the fridge and drank from the carton. It was my worst habit. He didn’t make a face or complain. He walked up next to me, almost touching me, taking it from my hands and drinking a huge swig. He handed it back, but I shook my head. My nose was wrinkled up.
He cocked his head. “You can drink from the carton, but I can’t?”
I walked off my run, pacing in the kitchen. “You kiss everything you meet. You probably have hep C.”
He laughed. “Princess, I get shots and regular checkups. Thank you for the judgment though.” His eyes t
railed up my legs. “Those are some short shorts.”
I sighed and started to stretch, throwing him another look.
He grinned. “I go to hot yoga sometimes. You should come. You look like you could use a stretch in the hamstrings. Why don’t you bend over and let me stretch you from behind?”
I groaned and walked to my bedroom to stretch without being ogled.
He yelled after me. “Wanna go to Costco?”
I looked back, contemplating the offer. “Yeah, sure. I don’t have a card though.”
“I do.”
Nodding, I walked into the bathroom instead of my room. “Give me ten to shower.”
He laughed. “Ha, you mean twenty.”
I stuck my finger out the doorframe, flipping him off again.
We left the apartment an hour later. He had an arrogant look on his face, like he knew I would be slow. The car out front was nice; it was a four door, black Audi in great shape. “This is yours?”
He gave me a look and pressed the unlock button. “The drummer, Gerry, is coming with us,” he said as he climbed in. We drove a few blocks, stopping outside of a small brick building nowhere as nice as ours. A thin guy with nicely-styled, dark-blonde hair and a tidy look to him walked toward us.
“Is the drummer gay?” I asked.
He laughed. “No, he’s always got ladies climbing all over him.”
The guy got in the back seat. “You must be Erin.”
I looked back. “Hi.” How did he know my name?
He put a hand out. “Gerry.” His dark-blonde hair was cut like Justin Bieber’s. He had on a blue-and-white-striped tee shirt. His jeans were burgundy, and he had on the cutest loafers. He was gay. The kind of gay that made me INSTANTLY want to be his beard or his hag.
His hands were clean and manicured, and he had tiny pores. He did regular facials and manis. He wasn’t totally delicate though. He was strong and handsome but in a feminine way, like a model. He gave me an appraising look. “So, how are you liking the city, compared to the Midwest?”
I fought my frown. “Great. Different. I mean the humidity is murder. I have to straighten my hair every day. That’s annoying. I get frizz really fast.”
He pointed at me. “Aloe vera will solve that right now. Run it through your hair after the shower and then blow dry. It’s like magic.”
I frowned. “But my hair is naturally curly.”
Lochlan gave me a look. “Really?” he sounded funny. I sneered at him.
Gerry laughed. “Yeah, it works like a hot damn.”
I looked at Lochlan, beaming. He gave me another weird look and then looked back at Gerry. “You gay?”
Gerry laughed. “Duh? Though I will say, I haven’t ever been asked so rudely.”
I was about to defend Gerry when a huge smile crossed Lochlan’s lips. “Dude, my brother’s gay. I should tell him to come up. He always complains about Nashville and the haters.”
Gerry sighed. “Fortunately, I’m from Seattle. I’ve never had an issue. But I know a guy who’s from Texas, and his parents won’t even see him.”
Lochlan shook his head. “That’s sick. How can you judge someone for being who they are?” He gave me a look and continued to drive.
I somehow turned out to be the bad guy in Lochlan’s eyes. Had I been judging people besides him? He deserved every bit of judgment he got.
Gerry laughed, leaning forward. “If I had to be straight, I would be asking you for dinner.”
I looked back at him. “I would have asked you first. I can tell you have manners. You’re probably a great dancer, have incredible taste in red wines, love picking up after yourself, and bringing home fresh flowers. I bet you’re even on time, all the time.”
He smirked at me. “Me to a tee.”
I grinned. “Me too. I bet you’d even let me order for myself.”
I scowled at Lochlan who rolled his eyes. “Yeah, so I don’t like red wine and other snooty shit, and I don’t pick up crap in the living room. It’s a living room. It’s for living, princess.” His grin turned into the smile that made the world stop and take notice of him. “Besides, you like it when I order for you.”
I gave Gerry a knowing look. “This is what I deal with.”
Lochlan snorted as he parked and we went inside. Gerry took his own cart. “I’m going to wander.” He winked at me and walked off.
I poked Lochlan. “Ha, told you he’s gay.”
He nodded. “You called it.”
I frowned. “Is your brother really gay?”
He gave me a weird look. “Yeah—Why?”
Shaking my head, I followed him to the protein powder section. “Just curious.”
He glanced at the label of the huge container he was holding. “You don’t think I’d be cool with a gay brother, or you just think I lie a lot?” His tone tugged at me.
I answered casually. “What? No . . . I never meant that. I just thought, maybe you were being open-minded . . . or trying to make him feel good, what with being a rock star and . . . nothing,” I stopped. I was starting to sound prejudice or tolerant, which I wasn’t. I didn’t believe in tolerance. That meant you only saw the difference between you and someone else.
He stared for a second. “I love my brother, and I hope no one ever tries to make him feel accepted for who he is. That makes him different. He’s not. My sister and I are straight and my brother is gay, and honestly, I think my parents love him more for it. He’s the better kid for sure.” The way he said it, I could hear a small amount of admiration in his voice, like his parents were amazing for being cool with whoever their kids turned out to be.
I smirked. “They probably just don’t love the starving-artist path you’re choosing.”
He cocked a dark eyebrow. “Starving? Least I’m making money and not just costing.”
I sneered and crossed my arms. He continued reading until I finally had to say it. “I’m not one of those people. It came out wrong. I don’t believe in tolerance.”
The cocky grin slowly crept across his face, but he kept his gaze on the nutritional information.
I shook my head. “Asshole.”
He put it in the cart and pointed to the one next to it. “You want this one? It’s for women trying to lose some weight. The girl on the ads is tight.”
My jaw dropped. He put his hands up fast. “Joke! Don’t mace me.”
I sighed and hated the fact that it was in my pocket. He glanced at it. “It looks like a cock. Everyone is gonna see Gerry in his burgundy pants, and then you with the mace cock, and think we’re all gay. How am I supposed to pick up girls with that going on?”
I laughed, brushing off the challenging look he was giving me. “You’d make a sexy lady.”
He chuckled, pushing the cart to the dried food. “I did it once for Halloween with my brother. He wanted to actually dress up as a girl, and if I did, no one would pick on him. So I did, and let me tell you . . . ” His grin grew. “It was bad. It was like knock-kneed, hairy, tattoo-on-the-bicep bad. I looked like Wesley Snipes in To Wong Fu. Alex, my bro, looked like John Leguizamo. He was sexy as hell and I was all muscled and gnarly looking.”
I liked this side of him. I didn’t often see him put someone above himself. In front of other people, he was so self-important, but in that moment, Alex was more important.
Looking past him, I thought I saw someone I knew. I looked at the guy and tilted my head for a second. He turned around to face me, smiling when he saw me. I waved and ran over. “Mick!”
He hugged me like we had been friends for years. “Erin! Great to see you.”
I ran a hand across his chin, grinning. “No beard.”
It made him chuckle and run his hands across his chin too. “I miss it so much. I feel naked.” He looked past me. “Friend of yours?”
I glanced back at Lochlan giving me the dirtiest of looks. “Roommate. He’s moody.”
“He looks familiar.”
I rolled my eyes. “You excited school starts soon?”
“Yes and no. I’m hoping to sleep in a bit for the next couple days.”
“Not me. I’m hoping to run loads and enjoy the last of the summer runs before school starts.”
“Wanna meet up sometime?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t even know why I was saying yes. It was probably because he was the nicest person I had met in the city, beyond Gerry.
He handed me his phone, “Put your digits in there.”
I grinned and put myself in his address book. When I handed it back he nodded. “See ya soon then?”
“Yeah, for sure.”
He nodded. “Take it easy, Erin.”
I liked him. He was like my brother, easygoing and simple to read. I turned and walked back to where Lochlan was pretending to read the same protein bars he had been when I had walked away.
“How do you know him?”
He sounded weird, very intense about my friend. I liked his protective-roomie thing he had going. He was a little overbearing but it was in my best interest most of the time. “He gave me a ride from the airport. Some freak was saying dirty shit about me on the plane. Mick offered me a ride—said he would have hated if his sister was stuck taking a bus with a serial killer-looking dude like the one eyeing me up. Saved my life possibly. I could have been a skin suit had I taken the bus.”
Lochlan looked angry. His brow lowered, making the scary shadow over his eyes. “What?”
I shrugged. “I’m fine. Mick saved my ass. It’s no biggie.” His clenched jaw said otherwise, making me sigh. “He’s a super nice guy. I really like him. Marine bio master’s and he’s super laid back. He reminds me of my brother.”
Lochlan’s face mellowed instantly. “Your brother?”
“Yeah. Why? You look all crazy. What’s with the dark-eye thing you do?”
He smiled and his whole face lit up. I almost forgot how dark it got. “I just don’t like the idea of serial killers being attracted to you.”
I winked at him. “Mick had it. He was my knight in shining armor.”
The comment didn’t improve his mood. In fact, it seemed to make him look dark again.
I laughed and we continued shopping, not really talking.
