Right. This girl is totally not thinking of me as a fuck buddy if she’s ready to be my wingman. Or wingwoman.
That’s enough to deflate my dick. I grab a pen from my desk blotter and start clicking away, a nervous habit I picked up in high school and haven’t been able to shake completely.
“How’s the moving going?” I ask, hoping that starting off with an innocuous question will soften the blow of telling her that her family is on the warpath.
“Slow, but good. Ernie helped me move my stuff into one of the spare bedrooms.”
“Ernie?”
“Your doorman. He’s the sweetest guy. Did you know he was in Saigon when it fell? He was a Marine, stationed at the U.S. Embassy. He met his wife there, helped evacuate her and other Vietnamese before the NVA took control of the city.”
No, I didn’t. But leave it to Brie to get the guy’s life story within ten minutes of meeting him.
“I took the room across from yours,” she went on. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Uh, yeah. Of course.” Really, what difference does it make what room she’s in? I’m going to be hyperaware of her no matter where she sleeps. “Listen, before you finish unpacking, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Let me guess. You’re kicking me out already.”
“No, nothing like that,” I assure her. “I saw Jake this morning.”
“Wow, he’s in early. Usually he and Ainsley aren’t vertical until after nine.”
TMI. I do not want to be talking about my best friend’s sex life with his little sister. “Yeah, well, he got your note.”
“Good.”
“No, not good. You neglected to mention where you were going.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d let me stay. I’ll text him now. If I can find my phone in this mess.”
“Too late. He already knows.”
“You told him?” she asks, he voice rising an octave.
“I didn’t have much choice.” I throw the pen back down. The constant clicking used to drive my teachers crazy, and it’s even bothering me now. “He’s worried about you. Your parents, too.”
“Jake’s worried about my parents?”
“No, your parents are worried about you. Jake called them looking for you. They’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Oh. Crap. I didn’t mean to scare anyone.”
“I know. Just do yourself a favor and call your family before your mother alerts the authorities.”
“She really needs to stop watchingForensic Files.”
I chuckle despite myself. “Your brother said the same thing.”
“I’ll call her. Jake, too. Thanks for the heads-up.”
I lean back in my chair and stare out the window at the street below. A bike messenger whizzes past, darting around the rush hour traffic. “You’re not mad at me?”
“Why would I be? You did what you had to do to keep my family from going into full-onDatelinemode.” I hear the dull thud of a box hitting the floor, followed by the sound of cardboard against cardboard. “Unless it’s for the shocking lack of food in your refrigerator. I didn’t realize man could exist on avocados and almond butter alone.”
Damn. I’m embarrassed. My fridge is usually better stocked than that. I’m not some stereotypical bachelor, subsisting on take-out and frozen pizza. I care about what I put into my body. But I’ve had a crazy busy week. And it’s not like I knew I was going to have a roommate until, oh, say, three hours or so ago.
“I’ll stop at Whole Foods on the way home.”
