“For a separate amenities fee.”
The agent is a middle-aged woman named Angie who has no idea who Ramona is, which is great, and a skewed perception of what Nick can afford, which isn’t. They’ve seen two places so far, one in Palms and one in Mar Vista. This one, in Westwood, is nearly out of his price range.
Ramona turns on the sink in the kitchen, then does the same for the bathroom sink and shower. “Good water pressure,” she says. In jeans and a vintage Tom Petty T-shirt, she’s more casual than he’s ever seen her. Almost painfully soft.
He doesn’t want to notice any of his favorite details, not her freckles or her voice or the curve of her hips, but they’reundeniable as always, despite his lingering discomfort from the article. He should have canceled—that would have been the logical thing. The responsible thing.
But he can’t help it if he wanted just a little more time with her before the dean’s judgment tomorrow.
“How do you know what to look for?” Nick asks, unaware that this was one of Ramona’s skills.
“I went apartment-hunting for the first time when I was onGreta.” She straightens, dusts off the knees of her jeans. “Lived in a place that was covering up a gas leak for the first six months and made it a point to become an expert on what to check so I wouldn’t have to do that again.” Then she turns to Angie. “The floor plan is great. I love the way it all flows.”
Angie beams as though she’s personally responsible for it. “It really is the perfect place for a young couple,” she says, and instead of leaping to assure her that they are most certainly not together, Ramona leans in to purr directly into his ear.
“That’s what we were hoping,” she says, placing her hand on Nick’s chest. Her closeness hits him with her natural scent, as though she forgot to put on her usual perfume. Just shampoo and Ramona, reminding him that he’ll never be hers. “Isn’t that right, babe?”
And even if it hurts a little, picturing this alternate universe, damn it if she doesn’t make him want to play along.
“Right,” he says. “I love the, uh, crown molding.”
Ramona dashes off to peek at the primary bedroom. “Babe? Do you think this would be big enough for all our…toys?” She grins like she hasn’t dropped a lit match at his feet. Evil, evil girl.
Nick is definitely not thinking about what he did with her panties after the party, or what she might look like using anyparticular toys. If she’s going to torture him, he can torture her right back.
“You’re forgetting the swing,babe,” he says. “We’ll need a place to hang it.”
“Silly me!” Ramona slaps her forehead. “I just hope the walls aren’t too thin.”
Angie gives them a knowing wink. “Verythick soundproofed walls. So you two can have all the fun you want.”
He should be laughing at the agent’s amusement, but something strange has been stuck in his mind since the first apartment they saw.
Even though they’re not looking for a place together, part of him is desperate for her to like it.
A phone chimes, and Angie reaches into her purse. “Shoot, my son forgot his inhaler in the car. My house isn’t that far—you don’t mind, do you? I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
“No problem,” Ramona says. Once she’s gone and they drop their happy-couple act, she must notice the way Nick’s expression changes, because her voice fills with concern. “Hey. Are you okay? Something seems a little off with you.”
Guess he hasn’t been doing a good job hiding it. “Well…” he starts, and Ramona’s face falls.
“You saw the photos,” she says, and he nods. “Fuck. I really thought we were under the radar there. When I first started class, there were some posts about me on campus, but I guess I was naive to think the fans were starting to move on. I’m so sorry.” Her jaw is tight, and what strikes him is how sincerely apologetic she seems—forhim.
“I didn’t even think.” Nick jams his hands in his pockets, feeling profoundly stupid. Why did he assume that just because he’sno one, there wouldn’t be someone out there who’d be able to identify him in a photo? “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.”
Even that day at the taco truck, she was trying to go incognito, with her sunglasses and hat. He should have been on top of this from the very beginning, and yet he’s so out of his depth here that he doesn’t know the rules of her world.
“Maybe not directly, but…Do you have any social media?”
“Just Instagram, but I’m never on it. Can’t remember the last time I posted.” As though to confirm this, he pulls up the app, even gets prompted to re-login.
And…holy shit.
There are dozens of unread DMs. New comments on his photos from years ago, mostly landscapes and food and only a handful with his face.
this is who she abandoned her fans for?? RAMONA COME BACK
who tf is this guy? not good enough for our prom queen
