by Scott, S. L.
Scratching the bridge of his nose, he furrows his brow. “Why are you hiding behind those boxes?”
“I’m uh . . .” Sighing, I ask, “Do you mind closing your eyes for one minute. I need to grab a pair of shorts, and unfortunately, those shorts are closer to you.”
He looks to his side and reaches down to a pile of clothes I’d dumped on the futon earlier. The lace of a hot pink thong wraps around his finger, and he stills. I stop breathing altogether, frozen to the spot—horrified, mortified, and every other fied—that he’s seeing my underwear for the first time.
Sure, I wear comfy clothes on the daily, but I like to keep things spicy underneath. Sue me . . . oh wait, he’s a lawyer and could.
When the slyest of smirks plays along his lips, my heart thunders in my chest until he sets it to the side to take hold of a turquoise pair of running shorts and asks, “These?”
I press my hand to my forehead and gasp for air. “Those work.” He tosses them to me and then turns just before I reach for them. After slipping them on, I step out of hiding. “All good.”
His hands are in his pockets, and he’s looking as dapper as ever. “Are you going to give me a tour?”
“Sure.” I laugh, moving next to the bed. “Look left, now right. That’s the kitchen. Behind me is the bedroom. Behind you is the living room. That concludes our tour for today. Don’t forget to tip your guide.” I give him a wink and click my tongue.
There’s a sweetness to his smile that’s not often seen. Although I do remember seeing it last night when we were on the roof deck. It looks nice on him.
He chuckles. “Tipping the tour guide. You might be more Phoebe than I realized.”
“Probably. Oh! I have beer . Would you like one? I also have one or two pieces of pizza left from dinner if you’re hungry. Cammie ordered an extra large.”
“You don’t have to go to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble, Rad.” I return to the drawer and start searching through the junk to find the bottle opener again.
He comes to stand beside me, his arm brushing against mine. He twists the metal top off one bottle and then the other. “They’re twist off.”
“Ah. Guess it’s obvious I only keep beer in the fridge for company.”
There’s no great rush to leave. Standing next to each other, he glances over, giving me a charming boyish smile. It reminds me of when we were in college with no real responsibilities in life. Grades and part-time jobs. Afternoons spent studying in Central Park and lattes down in Washington Square. The six of us were inseparable.
Life loves throwing curveballs. All we can do is step up to the plate and swing. “Pizza?”
“No, I’m good,” he says, now grinning to himself. He returns to the futon and pushes the clothes pile to the side before sitting down. “You like pizza, but it looks like you cook, too.”
I settle on the bed, leaning against the headboard, but glance at the dishes in the sink. “Yeah, I’m broke, so I have to cook.”
“You meet us out for meals.”
I laugh lightly, and then say, “That’s why I eat in the rest of the time.” When he doesn’t laugh, I bite my lip, feeling awkward. “I do enjoy cooking, though, so it works out.”
“You can cook whenever you want when you move in.” The way his head tilts down and his eyes study me, I’m curious what he’s thinking. “I have a lot of top-of-the-line cookware that never gets any action.”
“I can relate,” I say under my breath.
“What?”
Ack! “Um, I can make use of those pots and pans. Cooking for two will be more fun than for one.”
I stare at him while he takes a long pull from the bottle.
Oh.
My.
God.
Captivated by the way the light brings out the golden centers of his eyes, I stare at him. His magnetism has my tummy tightening. Those eyes, his broad shoulders, the tailored suit, sexy-messy hair, and darkening eyes as they devour me with a look—Good lord, this man is perfection.
Why have I never been so affected by how utterly gorgeous he is before?
I’ve always thought he was incredibly attractive, but we’re friends. He’s gone out of his way to make sure there was no opportunity for it to be anything else, and honestly, that’s probably for the best.
So why am I suddenly wishing we could be more?
My insides tighten.
It’s a futile thought. I know it.
We can’t.
We shouldn’t.
I shouldn’t. I should leave the man alone. He clearly has enough attention from the world and doesn’t need me drooling all over him. Especially since he’s being so kind and offering me a place to stay.
Be smart, Tealey. And then mop up the drool when he leaves.
I force myself to look away from him, then down two large gulps of beer, praying he won’t second-guess his offer to me after my awkwardness. When I turn back—Damn, why does he have to be so hot?
He smirks and just about does me in, but then he licks his lips, and I find myself biting mine. He asks, “Should I open a window? You look a bit flush.”
“I’m fine. So fine.” I clamp my mouth shut, turning my gaze to the ceiling. What am I doing?
He says, “It will be fun to have a roommate.”
“Roommate.” Good reminder. Great, in fact.
Roommates.
Friends. Only friends.
But if we’re only friends, why am I now staring at him like there’s a possibility of more?
God, I’m in so much trouble.
8
Tealey
Rad always looks incredible in his tailored suits, but seeing him with his shirtsleeves rolled up, a large watch wrapped around his wrist, and a towel draped over his shoulder while washing dishes brings a whole new meaning to erotica. Watching a man doing chores is divine, but when they offer, even when they didn’t dirty the dishes, it’s swoon-worthy.
As if reminiscing about how he renovated his building, images of sweaty and shirtless Rad racing back, he tries to do me in with domestic duties. I still don’t know how in the hell I got distracted by other guys back in college when this Adonis was right there all along. I check to make sure the air-conditioning is working before I reach the brink of spontaneous combustion.
After he insisted that I pack as he washes the dishes, he dries them and sets them on the drying rack. Time has gone too fast, fun always making it fly. Not that packing is fun, but spending time with Rad has been tonight. “I rode in a cab, but I can take one or two boxes back with me if you like.”
“Oh, uh . . .” I look around, thinking what would be easy to carry.
The veins in his forearms are mesmerizing as they work together while he tosses the dish towel behind him on the counter.
Fanning myself, I say, “I, um . . . clothes, maybe my dishes . . . hm.” He’s too distracting, so I cross the room, spying my treasured box of mugs I packed earlier. “I have this box I worry about moving. I’d hate for anything in it to get broken in a truck.”
After drying his hands, he hangs the towel on the rack’s hook. He turns to eye the box and then steadies his gaze on me. “I’ll handle it with care.”
Needing to cool down under the heat creeping up my neck, I tug the collar of my shirt away, but I’m quickly reminded that it’s already hanging off my shoulder, so I play it off and tug on my earlobe instead. His eyes follow the motion, but then he clears his throat, checks his watch, and says, “I should probably get going.”
“You don’t have to leave if you don’t want.”
He pauses and then grins. “It’s getting late.”
I glance at the time on the microwave, and my disappointment is hard to hide behind my weak smile. “I didn’t realize the hour. I have to be at work early tomorrow.”
Rad comes closer, and though his hand lifts, he’s quick to lower it back to his side. “Can I help in any way?”
Shrugging, I reply, “It’s just packing. Nothing I can’t h
andle.”
“I wasn’t talking about the packing. You have a lot of big changes happening, life coming at you fast with the move . . . and Steve.” His voice quietens at the end as if he doesn’t want to verbalize the name.
“I’m fine with the breakup. It was going to eventually happen. Sooner is better than later.” Not sure why I felt so comfortable talking about my ex with him tonight—as I’ve normally only shared with Cammie and Marlow about this sort of stuff—but it’s been one of the many things we’ve talked about. It’s been so nice, and I think spending the last few hours together has brought me comfort in our new, evolving relationship. “I didn’t love him. Not in the forever kind of way.”
“Is there a temporary way?” Empathy fills his strong features as the new crinkles beside his eyes soften.
Angling my head, I stare at the drying rack, fixating on the water dripping from the dishes. “I’m . . .” Crossing my arms, I peek over at Rad. “I don’t know why I’m acting this way. I’m fine. I really have been. I don’t even think about him, except—”
“Except when you do?”
“Just the mention of his name triggers something inside me,” I grumble. “It’s that the breakup wasn’t enough for him. He had to implant an insecurity.” Tossing my arms up, I let them fall to my sides. “Honestly, I was fine with my thighs. Am I perfect? No. But I don’t need to be. I exercise and eat decently healthy. I try to stay in shape—”
“You don’t have to justify anything to me, Tealey. I know my opinion doesn’t matter regarding your body, but trust me, nothing’s wrong with it.”
My heart clenches, but I stop myself from audibly awing.
He finally sits on the bed, and it wasn’t until then that I think he’s been trying to avoid it.
“And from a guy’s perspective, there’s a lot right with it, like all of it is pretty great.” As if cleaning the dishes wasn’t enough, he decides to swoon me to death with his sweet-talking. “Come here.”
I sit beside him, the sides of our legs pressed together as I tuck my hands between my thighs and look into his eyes.
“It’s easy for me to tell you that he’s not in your league, but I’m not sure you’ll believe me.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he clears his throat. “When I said he was a fucker, I meant it, though.” The left side of his mouth lifts as he stares at me out of the corners of his eyes.
“You can tell me that anytime.” I grin. “He hurt my heart. He didn’t break it. But his words still sting.”
His arm wraps around my shoulders, and he whispers, “You’re the best thing he ever had, and he lost you. Don’t look back, Tealey. He doesn’t deserve a second of your thoughts.”
I look down when my breathing picks up. Though my nightshirt blocks his hand from touching my skin, the heat is felt between us.
His hand slides from my arm and returns to his lap. I hear him swallow in the silence of the room, and then he says, “If he’d asked you to marry him, I wouldn’t have let you walk down that aisle.” Caught off guard, I look into his earnest eyes. His words are just as gentle as his gaze, albeit direct. “None of us would have let you.”
I toe the box near my feet, unsure how to feel about his admission. Betrayed? Mad? Lucky? Yes, lucky. Lucky to have friends who care so much that they’ll risk offending me in the short term to protect me in the long run. I know where their hearts lie, and it’s not the same place Steve’s did, which is why we broke up.
His eyes remain on me unapologetically, like his confession. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I just thought you should know that we always have your back.” The heaviness that crept into the apartment begins to splinter, and he adds, “I just wanted to check on you because even though it’s been a while, it’s still not easy when a relationship ends.”
“You take dating in such stride. I wish I was more like you.”
His expression hardens. It’s just a moment, but enough to catch the change in his disposition. “I’m glad you’re not. You’re not cynical. It’s one of my favorite things about you. Your heart is wide open. Never change, Tealey Bell.”
My smile grows ridiculously, I’m sure, across my face. “You have favorite things about me?”
He shakes his head and reaches to rub the back of his neck again but stops and stands instead. “That list is too long for tonight, and I should get going.” He rolls his sleeves back down and puts his suit jacket back on before reaching down to take the box. A slight clang of the mugs bumping together rings, and he says, “I’ll be careful.”
Despite wanting to, I shouldn’t keep him any longer or delve into that favorites list he apparently has of me. We’ve been friends for so long, but no matter how close we are, or weren’t, some things between us have been held back on both sides.
I’m glad we’re remedying the situation.
“Thank you.” I push off the bed and go to the door. I stop and look at him once more. “I’m glad we’re friends and . . . and that we have this chance to get to know each other better.” I should feel awkward, the two of us standing here alone for what feels like the first time, but I don’t, though. Nothing but hope rises inside me and brings a smile to my face right now.
“It will be good, a long time coming and nice to have your company.”
I could overanalyze that he said my company versus a general anyone’s company, but instead, I take it for what he means and look forward to watching our friendship grow. “Yeah, it will be a nice change for me too.” Opening the door, I let him go first and follow him down the hall. “And I promise to stay out of your hair, so you can carry on with life as usual.”
He stops one flight down, and a crinkle of his brow is smoothed just as quickly as it appears. “It’s funny because you being in my hair is one of the things I’m most looking forward to.” His laugh is so genuine—deep and soothing—a blanket that warms me in the hollows of the building. “You can start staying there tomorrow if you’d like.”
“I might take you up on that. I’m almost packed, and it makes it kind of chaotic to be around.”
We continue down the stairs, and I push open the door. When he comes out, he sets the box down gently and pulls his phone out. I briefly catch a rideshare app on his phone before he pockets it again and retrieves the box. “I’ve been meaning to ask when you want to tell the others?”
“Oh, uh, it’s not a secret, so anytime. I did tell Cammie tonight. I didn’t know you wanted to wait.”
“No, I don’t. I also didn’t know. It’s not a big deal. Anyway,” he says, walking to the curb, “if Cammie knows, Cade knows, and you know it will travel down that gossip vine from there.”
A blue sedan pulls to the curb and rolls down the window. A guy leans over the console, eyeing us, and then calls, “Rad?”
“That’s me.” Turning back to me, Rad says, “I’ll have a key sent to your office tomorrow. Use it when you’re ready.” He pauses, briefly glancing at the driver. “I’ll be home late tomorrow.”
“I’m not your mom—”
“Most definitely not.” A wry grin spreads across his lips.
My curiosity gets the best of me, though. “Got a hot date?” I try to sound casual but fail miserably. To distract him from my ridiculousness, I rock forward and poke his stomach . . . Whoa. Hard as a rock.
“I’d rather be there to help you settle in, but . . .” Him having a date or even a girlfriend shouldn’t disappoint me . . . still. I hate this feeling, the drop of jealousy that poisons a good time. “I have to work late. I’ve added a new case to my load, and well, I shouldn’t have taken it on, but I needed to.”
“You sound like me.”
The driver lays on his horn. This time, I’m the one looking away when I hear the rattle of an old window open. Mr. Meisler dips his head out the window. “Knock it off. My wife’s trying to sleep.” He spies us but remains expressionless as he lights up a cigarette. “Nice night.”
Rad says, “Don’t hesitate to call or text me if you need anything,
anything at all.” I don’t know when the inches between us disappeared, but the tips of our shoes touch as he stares into my eyes in an unfamiliar way. “I should go.”
“Yes, me too.”
“If I don’t see you at your place tomorrow night, I’ll see you Friday.”
“See you when I see you.”
I start the short walk back, each step away from him a little heavier.
“Hey, Bell?”
When I look back, he says, “He’s a fool for letting you go.”
Melting might be more Marlow’s speed, dramatic, but he sure has a way to make a girl feel special. “You’re not so bad yourself, Welly.”
He grins, big like I do, and then gets in the car with my precious cargo. I type in the code to open the door, but before I go in, I watch the car drive away.
“He’s a good kid, like you, Tealey.”
“Thanks, Mr. Meisler.” I swing the heavy metal door open and ask, “So your son is taking you and the Mrs. in?”
“Yep. They have a pool and a float with my name on it. I’ll be living the high life out in Jersey.”
I laugh. “You’re making me jealous.”
“Nah,” he says, waving me off. “Sounds like you’ll be living the good life in Manhattan.”
“It’s not too shabby.”
Rubbing his fingers together, he adds, “He’s all money. I could smell that expensive cologne from here, and phew, that suit—class all the way.”
“He’s nice, too.”
“That’s good. Real good.”
“Good night, Mr. Meisler.”
“Night, Tealey.”
I take the steps by two but grab my cramping side when I reach my floor and huff all the way to my door. Inside my apartment, I lean against the back of the door and close my eyes, releasing a breath that’s felt held since Rad showed up on my doorstep. My body sags under the release, and I can’t help but noting that it’s the best release I’ve had in a while.
Desperate times . . .
Why did I think moving in with him was a good idea? How am I going to face Rad day in and day out? When his soulful eyes are on me, it feels as if he can see right through me. As if he can see the feelings blooming inside and the thoughts that want to be verbalized.
