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“Does that mean you’re offering me the flat?”
I couldn’t believe she was talking like I had already moved in, maybe I didn’t need Elliott’s help at all. I could do this all by myself.
“Yes, the flat is yours if you want it. I can’t imagine why you would want this shit tip. If you’re prepared to pay the price of the rent and pay for six months in advance, that you offered downstairs then yes, it’s yours.”
I went to hug her only to have her raise her hands. “Whoa there handsome, no touching the landlady, new rule.” Adaline folded her arms under her chest, drawing my eyes to her cleavage.
“Should I write these rules down on a piece of paper?” I asked.
“Just pay attention. Try not to talk to me, don’t touch me and if you’re handy with tools, fix the place up,” she said. “Please.”
Ah, there were her manners again.
My plan to seduce her may have fallen apart. No talking and no touching will cause a problem. Perhaps I will need the help of Steph and Elliott.
“Out of interest, what happens if I break the rules?”
I had to know what the stakes were, my hand was coming back to life in my pocket and didn’t feel like I’d touched the surface of the sun. Adaline was silent, tapping her finger against her lips. She looked me up and down, so quick, I almost missed it, but she was contemplating her options.
“I don’t know, just try to stick to the rules.”
She handed me her phone to program my number in, I took a grinning selfie and attached a profile picture which earned me a roll of her eyes and a smirk. While Adaline was calling my phone, I took a picture of her. It wasn’t a full face picture but it was enough. Adaline called my phone and hung up the line, thankfully she hadn’t seen that I’d taken a photo of her to add to my contacts. I was sure of it until I saw the glare had returned, she was more observant than I assumed. I didn’t care, a glare was better than no reaction at all. She thought I was handsome, it was a start. At least I could give plenty of work to Scottie and keep him occupied. Between this place and the community centre, we had a lot of work to do. Adaline gave me the figure for the rent, I showed no reaction to the exorbitant price of renting a flat in Brighton was these days. I’d already checked out other places on the internet before arriving, and her rent was on par with the other two bedroom flats to rent in the area. How students lived in Brighton was beyond me, there were two Universities in the city, a hundred thousand students all living on the bread line.
“When can I move into the flat?” I asked while I prepared a menu in my head for our first dinner together.
“As soon as I have the money, I’m home all evening if you want to come by later.”
Her phone was back in her waistband, with her t-shirt tucked in. I could see bare skin, and I wanted to touch her.
“Have you got your bank details to hand? I can transfer the funds now.” I said, needing a distraction.
Adaline stared at me for a moment. “Say again,” she kept her eyes on my face.
“I’ll pay you now, what is your bank account number?” I asked again.
She rattled off the eight-digit number and then the sort code. I wasn’t prepared that she knew them by heart. I opened the banking app on my phone and asked her again what the details were. We were with the same bank. That would mean she would see the money straight away. Once I had transferred the money, I picked up the cooling cup of coffee from the top of the wall and took a sip.
“Check your account,” I told her while I finished the coffee, which had cooled to the perfect temperature. She checked her phone screen.
“Fast work handsome, I guess the place is yours. Come through and sign the tenancy agreement. I have one in my kitchen.”
“Am I allowed over the threshold?” I asked. I rejoiced that the agreement was prepared. My disappointment came to the forefront of my mind. It meant that she would’ve taken anyone. Lurching from elation to depression, I stepped over the plant pot to the entrance to her flat.
“Don’t get smart, I’ll let you in,” she said beckoning me with her hand, her back had already turned.
Edging my way around the open French door, a waft of citrus orange surrounded me. The living room was the same size as mine, but this one was filled with clutter. Every surface had stacks of magazines in various heights. One pile looked like it was about to fall over, teetering on the edge of the sofa cushion. I couldn’t see much of the dark brown carpet with more comics in piles, lined up against the right-hand wall that separated my living room from hers. I followed her through the man-made path and exited to the left into her corridor. The flat was a mirror image of mine. Her kitchen was the second left and was pristine. A kettle and a coffee pot were the only objects out on the counter. Her cupboards had doors, unlike mine, and with handles. I couldn’t resist and opened her fridge door that was taller than me. There was a full four-pint milk carton and a pot of what looked like hummus. Before I could inspect the drawers, the door slammed shut.
“What are you doing?” She asked and peered at me, staring me down. The flat of her hand was on the fridge door, her fingers drumming with impatience.
“I’m sorry, I’m nosey, forgive me? There is nothing on display in here,” I said gesturing with my arm around the kitchen. “It’s surprising to see a kitchen so bare of utensils and gadgetry. Why isn’t there any food in your fridge?”
Adaline muttered something under her breath, she’d looked away, pacing to the other side of the kitchen. She opened a drawer, lifted out a sheaf of papers and then slammed the drawer shut.
“What did you say? I didn’t catch what you said,” I said and stepped nearer, resting my hip against the counter, facing her. Disguising my amused grin proved difficult when she peered at me without moving her head.
“I can’t cook. There’s no point buying food for the fridge because it will stay there until it rots.”
She raised both her eyebrows, checking through the six-page document in front of her. Adaline was trying her best to brazen out her confession. She scrawled her signature across the bold black line on the final page, almost ripping the paper.
