“You’re right. That’s very true,” I agree, smiling. A small part of me wishes I were interested in dating them, because these four guys are so sweet. But I know it probably wouldn’t last. If my mom’s love life is any indication, men are sweet at the beginning when they’re reeling you in, but it’s not long before you’re waiting on them hand and foot, putting your entire life on the back burner for their comfort, only for them to get bored and cheat behind your back.
Elliot pulls into the driveway of an old New England-style house, the type usually chopped up into a bunch of tiny little apartments and then shoved full of students.
Lukas opens the door and gets out of the car, then holds out his hand to help me out. It’s such an old school move, but I have to say, it’s cute.
This feels like magic. Taking a man’s warm, callused hand as he helps me from his car and guides me up the steps and into his house, like I’m a princess in a fairy tale. Except I can’t think of a single fairy tale that has three other men waiting for the moment I step over the threshold and into their private space.
For a moment, I wonder how many other women they have done this same thing for, made to feel special and welcomed into their home. But as soon as I have the thought, I remind myself that I’m just here to watch a movie, so it doesn’t matter.
They lead me into the house, all of them stopping as soon as they step into the little hallway to toe off their shoes and line them up neatly on a little rack against the wall. I can tell these guys like things neat and orderly in their lives.
“You can have whichever of the empty spots you prefer,” Sebastian tells me, pointing to the shoe rack. “It can be your permanent spot.”
I don’t know that I’ll be here often enough to need a permanent spot, but I get a little thrill thinking about it. “Thanks.”
“Once you’ve taken off your shoes, we’ll give you the tour,” says Lukas.
I quickly take off my shoes and set them in the empty spot on the top of the shoe rack. The tile floor is chilly under my bare feet, and I wish I’d known this was how the night was going to end up. I’d have tossed socks into my purse.
At least my toenails are painted so they look cute.
“Okay, ready.” I stand up straight and put on my best smile. Inside I’m nervous, but I tell myself to knock it off. This is going to be fun. This isn’t a date, and there’s no pressure, and we’re going to watch a movie and have a good time and get to know each other and I’m in complete control.
Sure, Rebecca. You just keep telling yourself that.
Lukas leads the way through the small foyer and past a set of stairs, pointing out the half bath, then down the hall and into the kitchen, which is painted a soft sage green. It looks nice against the white cabinets. The kitchen is very clean, no dirty dishes in the sink or crumbs on the table, and I wonder if this is normal or if they clean three times a year and today just happened to be that day. We turn right into a dining room, furnished with an entire table and chairs set that looks like it’s never been used as a beer pong table, then right again into the living room, which boasts a large sofa and larger television. Lukas names each room as we pass through it, which I find oddly charming. It’s cute that they want to show off their house.
It doesn’t look like any college dorm room or even share house I’ve ever seen, especially considering it’s inhabited by guys. Everything is spotless and tidy, not just in the kitchen. I peek back into the kitchen, something I’d half-noticed earlier snagging at the corner of my mind. Sure enough, all of the countertop appliances have tiny little labels on them.
“Your house is really nice. Lucky you don’t have to stay in the dorms.” I would love to move from the dorms to an apartment at some point, especially if it meant having this much space. Although living in a house this big would also mean having to share it with several other people, which would mean I’d have to find several other people to live with. Although no doubt if and when we move off campus, Ronnie’ll have a whole list of potential roommates lined up.
“And all of the bedrooms are upstairs,” says Elliot, gesturing over to the foyer and the stairs I can just see through the archway.
Bedrooms feel like a dangerous topic, so I indicate the shelves against one wall. “Are these all of your trophies?”
Way to be Captain Obvious, Rebecca.
“Yes,” says Felix, taking my hand and leading me across the room. “Come look.”
The others follow, clustering around me as I let my gaze wander over the shelves, which are organized largest to smallest, left to right. Felix drops my hand now that we’ve reached our destination, and I tamp down the disappointment that pings in the back of my brain, refusing to examine why I felt it.
“Which one is your first trophy?” I ask as I peruse the display. “How far back do these go?”
“This shelf is mine, and this one was my first.” Felix points out a small bronze cube about the size of my palm on the top shelf. “I was eight.”
“That’s very young to start competing.” I don’t remember what I was interested in at that age, but competing and winning at anything wasn’t even on my radar.
“Not really,” says Felix, nodding his head towards Elliot. “Elliot started competing when he was six.”
“Really?” Who discovers their passion in life that young and then sticks with it? Most people can’t commit to anything, yet here these guys are, still working towards one of the first goals they’ve ever had in life: to win the world speedcubing competition.
“Yes,” says Elliot, stepping up to the shelves and reaching a hand out toward them. “Let me show you my first trophy.”
Elliot systematically names each event each trophy came from, moving right to left. I’m calculating how many years he’s been competing, and there don’t seem to be enough trophies. And hasn’t named any event twice.
“Are you only going to each event once?” I ask.
“No, we keep all of the extra trophies in our rooms,” he explains, straightening one of his trophies on the shelf.
