by Jami Wagner
“Well, don’t do it again,” she stutters. She shifts on her feet, and my eyes are drawn to her toes, again. They’re teal this time.
“You own like three towels, Lennox. You should buy more,” I say, scanning my notebook to see where I left off with my notes—really anywhere that isn’t her toes. I can’t put my finger on why, but when she walks around the apartment in her bare feet, it feels intimate. Like I’m seeing a side of her no one else gets to see, and I hate that when I see those damn cute little feet, being mad at her fades away.
“I should buy more?” she asks.
But that tone is always ready to snap me back into reality.
“And bigger ones, too,” I say before she can continue. She gasps and I chuckle, looking away.
“Just … next time get a different towel,” she says and disappears from the doorway.
“Maybe I’ll take my chances naked!” I shout.
Her growl is faint as she gets farther and farther from my room.
I put my focus back on studying, but I can’t stop thinking about Lennox and the towel. This isn’t the first time I’ve caught a glimpse of her in a “not just my roommate” sort of way. There was the first time I walked out my room without a shirt and the look she gave me made me ready to pin her against the table. Then there was the time she came up from doing her laundry and was wearing these teeny tiny blue shorts and a T-shirt that hung off her shoulder—which she does a lot, and it drives me insane because I like it way too much. Plus, that one time at the frat party with that cut-off shirt. Basically, anything that shows off her soft, creamy skin makes me think of her in a whole new light.
I’m blaming the fact that we are always around each other.
“I’m doing laundry again!” Lennox shouts down the hall. My eyes glance to the pile of clothes in the corner. It’s been a while, two weeks actually, since I haven’t done any laundry since I moved in, and I could probably figure out how to run a washer and dryer on my own.
“Hold up,” I shout, leaping off my bed and loading the dirty clothes in my arms. I step out of my room to see Lennox waiting, no teeny shorts this time. This time it’s jeans. “I’ll come with you.”
I pause next to her, taking in the small wrinkle between her eyes.
“What?” I ask.
“Do you not have a bag or anything?” she asks.
“Nope.”
She looks at her basket. “I guess you can put them in with mine, but you’re carrying the basket down.”
I don’t argue. I just do as she says. Arguing is our thing, yes, but I sort of like throwing her off her game when I’m nice to her.
I follow her down the stairs to the basement, assuming this is where the washer and dryer are.
“This past week,” she starts, but hesitates. She turns to face me. “You’ve been … I mean you haven’t…”
“Come on, Ashby, spit it out,” I joke as I start to dump the clothes in the empty washer.
“What are you doing?” She leaps to grab the basket and then starts pulling the clothes back out of the tub.
“Laundry. What are you doing?”
“You can’t just put everything in together.”
“Why not?”
“The colors could bleed and then your clothes won’t hold the color they should.”
“What?” Everything she just said sounded like a foreign language.
“Have you ever done laundry before?”
“I’ll let you guess.”
“So no.”
I nod.
“Okay, well, we have to sort everything out. Make a pile of light colors and one with darks and one with bright colors,” she says.
“I don’t have near enough clothes to make that many piles,” I tell her.
“Just do it.” She’s trying not to laugh. “I’ll do my clothes first.”
“Why don’t we do them together?” I repeat the question to myself because her face looks like I just asked her to commit murder. “What did I say?”
“Isn’t that a little … I don’t know. Intimate?” she asks.
“Laundry?”
“Yeah, I mean, your,” she points to my crotch, “and my…” She starts to point again, but stops. “You know what, never mind. That’s fine.”
“Lennox,” I say softly.
She busies herself putting one of the piles into the washer and then moves to grab some of my clothes to add. She’s acting like she didn’t hear me.
“Lennox,” I repeat.
“What?”
“Is it going to bother you that my boxers and your underwear will be washed together?”
She shakes her head. “No. Of course not.”
“Lennox, look at me.” I’m trying my hardest not to laugh right now. “Lennox, I just basically saw you naked. I think it’s okay if our clothes touch.”
She spins around and points at me. Her other hand flies to her hip; the small piece of red fabric in her other hand grabs my attention more than the finger in my face. “You won’t tell anyone about that.”
I nod. She wears that? “It never happened” I nod again. It hardly covers anything. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yep.” Her gaze follows mine.
I’m fully expecting her to go all weird and embarrassed again, but instead she does the last thing I expect. She takes a step toward me. Her lavender scent wafts over me. Would she be wearing something similar now?
“Tripp, are you staring at my panties?”
Panties. Why does that word make my heart pound faster?
“Cat got your tongue? A minute ago you had no problem talking about them, but now that you see them you haven’t got anything to say.”
My gaze collides with hers.
“You’re right.” I step closer to her, our chests almost touching. She takes a deep breath right before I say, “But I’m more worried about what I might do to you right now than what I might say.”
Her eyes go wide briefly before flickering to my lips.
“Lennox, are you down here?” Winston’s voice fills the basement, followed by heavy footsteps as they descend the stairs.
She jumps back, tossing a few more things into the wash before she starts it.
“Yeah,” she calls out back to him just as he steps into view.
“Oh, hey, Tripp, I wasn’t expecting to find you down here.” He laughs.
“It’s his first-time doing laundry,” Lennox says. “He sucks.”
“And here I thought I was doing something you liked,” I say. She looks away from me, her tongue sweeping over her lips.
“Should we go, Winston?” she asks.
“You’re leaving?” I ask.
“Do you want to come with us?” Winston asks. “We are going to—”
“No. He doesn’t,” Lennox cuts him off.
Winston looks at me and then we both look at Lennox. She just smiles.
“I have plans anyway,” I say, and we all head up the steps.
“Want me to bring you back a burger?” Winston asks.
My stomach practically rumbles at the idea.
“Sure. Thanks. See you at work, Lennox.”
She moves to follow Winston outside but hesitates. I pause, too, waiting for her to say something. She doesn’t.
I head back to the apartment and straight to my room.
It’s only because we’ve been around each other so much. She’s a girl. She’s hot. That’s all. It’s nothing more. I keep repeating this to myself as I fill out one of the journalism program papers I’ve been putting off. Even when I’m done, I’m still repeating it.
Lennox
I’ve lost my mind. That’s the only excuse I can think of to explain why I would march into Tripp’s room in nothing but my towel and then continue to flirt with him in the basement. What the hell am I thinking? Oh, probably that I need to make a new rule. Shirts are required inside the apartment at all times and no more doing laundry together. Or anything that would get us alone. Which is impossible. We�
�re always alone. In the apartment we share. Where he walks around without a shirt.
“How’s living with Tripp been?” Winston asks.
It’s hard to hate him when I can’t stop looking at him.
“It’s fine,” I say. I’m thankful Winston pulled me from my internal rant, but I still wish there was a new topic.
“I’m going to need more information than that.”
“Having a roommate isn’t so bad,” I say.
“So Tripp isn’t so bad?” he asks.
“All right fine, yes, you’re right, you were always right. Tripp is actually a good person when you get to know him.”
“I knew you’d come around.”
“But I swear to God if I trip over his shoes one more time and bang my knee, I’ll smother him with a pillow in his sleep.”
Winston laughs. “Well, I’m glad it’s going well. I was worried at first.”
“So was I, but he’s been very mature about losing his money.”
“Yeah, he has been different.”
“But in a good way.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I mean, I think I’d be in a pretty foul mood for a month or maybe even longer if my parents cut me off.”
“His parents cut him off?” I ask. I’m leaning over the table now and my eyes go wide. So that’s that missing piece of the story.
“Shit, I thought he told you.”
“No.”
“Then how did you find out he has no money?” he asks.
“Kass.”
“Kass told you about his parents?”
“No, she said he was broke.”
“So, I just gossiped?”
“Yeah, but it was worth it. Why would they cut him off?”
“I’m not telling you anything else.” Winston sips his soda.
“Oh, come on. You’ve already shared the worst part. A little more won’t hurt.”
He cocks his head. I stick out my bottom lip. He sighs.
“The short version is, Tripp’s parents are not the kind of parents you actually want growing up. They’ve given him anything and everything, and then one day, they decided it was time to change that.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, so when I suggested you two live together—I mean, if anyone knows what shitty parents feels like, even if it’s not completely the same, it’s you.”
“Yeah, I guess, but I think I’d still rather have shitty parents over no parents.”
“Are you sure about that?”
It took about a year into our friendship before I told Winston everything. That my father left us when I was really young and my mother was tired of well … being a mom. So she left me at a home. It sucked for sure, but I can’t say that I missed having to fall asleep with strange men in the house, drinking and smoking.
“No. I’d rather have no parents.”
“Unless they are mine,” he laughs.
“True that. Is your mom making popcorn balls again next month for Halloween?” I ask. Last year she made these red-hot cinnamon ones I didn’t plan on eating, but they made me try one and then I ate like twenty of them. Winston’s parents are the kind some kids only dream of having. Even before they knew my story, they were the sweetest and kindest people I’d ever met. They never pressured me, and they gave more support in the two years I lived with them than my mother ever did.
“Of course. Do I need to give her a flavor request?” he asks.
“Nope, I just need a lot of them. I wonder what kind Tripp would want.” Maybe he’s just the original type of guy, or maybe he … “What?” I ask Winston when I catch him staring at me. He looks pissed. “I don’t have to get any if you don’t want me to.”
“Why do you care what kind Tripp likes?” he asks. He doesn’t look at me; he just picks at his fries.
Shit.
“He’s my roommate,” I answer, but I think it comes out more like a question.
“Are you sure everything is okay with you two?”
If he’s asking if I want to stick my tongue down my roommate’s throat then, yes, the answer is yes. It’s a new feeling, and I’m not sure I want it to go away.
“Yep,” I say and look at my watch. “I need to get to work. Thanks for lunch.”
We exchange a quick goodbye and then I’m out the door with Tripp’s burger. Plum’s isn’t too far from the gym, which is nice. It’s getting colder now that it’s almost October, but today is still a good day to walk. I picked my job and my apartment mainly because they were both walking distance from the school. The less money I spend, the better.
I use the employees’ entrance in the back. Brandy is grabbing a box of trail mix off the shelf and spots me before I can sneak by.
“Hey,” she calls out, setting the box down.
“Hey,” I say. She fidgets like she wants to say more but isn’t sure what.
“So, I wanted to apologize about how I acted the other night.”
“What night?”
“You know, when I was gushing on about how gorgeous Tripp is.”
“Oh,” I laugh and wave my hand. “It’s okay. Don’t even worry about it.”
“So you’re not mad?”
“Not at all.”
Not now that I see what she sees.
“Okay. Cool. I just didn’t want it to be awkward.”
“No awkwardness at all.”
“Sweet,” she says and turns and returns to the box of trail mix.
I continue on until I reach the tanning salon. Betsy is working. She gives me a quick update on the spray tan machine, which isn’t working, again, and then leaves.
I’m just sitting down when Tripp appears.
“We need to talk,” he says quickly.
“About what?” I ask, sliding the to-go box toward him.
Please don’t say it’s about our almost kiss. Don’t say it. Shit, did he switch out the laundry?
“Brandy,” he answers.
“Why? Did she ask you out or something?” Immediately, my stomach knots. I don’t want to know the answer to my own question.
He keeps his gaze focused on mine before he answers. “Not exactly. Look, I need to tell you something and before I do, promise you won’t get mad.”
“Did you quit?” I ask. He made it a whole freaking week. Fantastic. Is this what I’m getting into with him as a roommate? Him quitting jobs and me trying to quit whatever feelings are happening for him.
“No.”
Oh, thank God. If he still has a job, I can handle anything he needs to tell me.
“I told her we were dating.”
“What the hell, Tripp!” I shout and gain the attention of a couple walking out of the club. A girl who started to walk in to tan turns and walks out. For some reason, I look over to see Brandy watching us.
“All right, I knew you’d be upset, but it’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad? Tripp, that’s a pretty big lie.”
“I just need you to pretend it’s true if she asks, and if she ever asks why we don’t act like it, we’ll tell her it’s because we want to keep it professional at work.”
I shake my head.
“Please, Lennox. I’ll owe you huge.”
“Why did you even tell her this?”
“Because she kept hinting that she was into me and I didn’t want that to ruin this job thing, so I made it up to let her down easy.”
“Oh my gosh.”
“Hey, it can’t be that hard to pretend you’re into me.”
He winks. Then his gaze falls to my lips.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I ask. I can’t think about this right now. I need to work, and I need to study. I can’t have Tripp distracting me.
“Yeah, but I wanted to let you know what I did before someone else did.”
“How sweet.”
“So, we’ll talk later?”
Obviously. We live together.
“Yep. Later.”
Tripp heads back toward the gym side but pauses in the entran
ce. Brandy is strolling our way. The smile Tripp gives me when he looks back could make any girl blush.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?”
I roll my eyes and shake my head.
His laughter is the last thing I hear before he’s gone.
Falling for Tripp can’t end well. Even if just being around him these days gives me a new slice of hope that I can have more than I thought this world had planned for me, I can’t forget where he came from. I can’t forget that one day he might get it all back, and where will that leave me? Right back when I started. Which is exactly why whatever I’m starting to feel for Tripp has to end.
Chapter Eight
Tripp
Another week has passed and now that I have Lennox’s schedule memorized, I know she’s going to leave in less than thirty minutes. It’s Saturday. She always leaves just after lunch. Ever since our almost kiss, I’m pretty sure Lennox has gone out of her way to avoid me. When she is around me though, she’s her normal, positive self, so I know she isn’t mad. It must be something else. And right now, I’m thinking it has something to do with her secret Saturdays.
“I’m sick of just sitting around this cramped apartment every day,” I say, plopping myself onto the couch next to her. “Work, school, work, school, that’s all I ever do anymore.”
“So, go do something.” She doesn’t even look up from her book.
“Yeah, and what would I do?” I ask. I don’t get my first paycheck until Tuesday, and I swear I’ve never looked so forward to something in my life.
She shrugs. “Whatever you want.”
“If I did what I wanted right now, I’d be thrown in jail by the end of the night when they found out I have no money.” Everything costs money.
She shrugs. “So find new things you enjoy doing that don’t cost money.”
Normally, I’d call Winston or Mark at this point, but not having a phone really sucks.
“What do you do on a Saturday when you clearly have no plans?” I throw a side glance at her to take in her reaction.
“Actually, I do have plans.” She looks around me into the kitchen. “In fact, I should get going.” Her walk has a bounce in it as she heads for the door. “I’m sure you’ll find something to do.”
