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Chapter Four
Tessa
He’s being super sketchy about how he’s come to live in this swanky apartment and it’s taking everything in me not to hit him with a million questions.
“Are you doing something illegal?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him and hoping I can read the expression on his face well enough to tell me if I should run for the hills.
“Nope,” he simply answers, leaving me with even more questions. I guess if he would’ve said yes, I might have weighed my options and tried to decide if I wanted to live like some mafia wife. Which might not be so bad. Sometimes this whole working thing is exhausting.
“Are your parents rich and you’re living off some trust fund? Because I don’t think we can do this.” I motion between us, all while Dylan stands there, a sly grin on his face as he hangs this secret over my head. “I am fucking self-made,” I declare, sounding like one of those women on social media using the hashtag boss babe and making myself look like an idiot.
Even if I did put myself through school and start my own firm, I tend not to brag about it. That feels like it could make it all come crashing down. I like to quietly remind myself that I kick ass.
“Nope, again. Just regular parents with regular jobs.”
I look him over, still trying to gauge what the hell is going on. We went from meeting at the gym and sleeping together and me literally knowing nothing about his personal life, to him inviting me to his house for dinner. And he’s cooking.
“And nothing illegal?” I ask again. “Do I need to clarify what I mean by illegal in case we have differing opinions on the word?”
“Yeah, probably,” he now says, his lip quirking up at the corner as he nods.
“You fucking with me?” I question, my head cocked to the side, still trying to read him.
“Nothing illegal, Tess,” he finally says. “Nothing illegal, nothing sketchy, nothing that out of the ordinary.”
I catch his words,that out of the ordinary, and he still has me curious, but I let it drop there. He’s just so different than he was when we first met and something about that has me on the defensive. Is this an act? Is he trying to get me to sleep with him again? Pushing us back into that whole fuck buddies thing that I am so not interested in.
“Why do you work at the vineyard and live…” I pause, glancing around at the high ceilings and oversized windows, this place is akin to something you would see in San Francisco not downtown Napa. I didn’t even know this place existed.
“Why do I work there and live here?” he says, finishing my thought and I’m starting to feel like I might be coming across as a bit of an asshole.
“Sorry, that was a shitty thing to ask. I’m just so…” Again, I trail off, not even sure where to begin. The confusion is real because this is not the guy I met at the gym or the guy who came back to my house numerous times or the guy who used to text me at midnight asking if I was up. I’m allowed to be a little curious and a little defensive.
“Nah, it’s cool. I made a lot of money and figured working at Somerville’s is kinda low-key and low-stress, so I went with it.”
Oh my god, I have no idea why I’m being this way, but the first thing I think is, he’s a slacker who has no desire to work and I have this fucking job that I work my ass off at. This isn’t going to work. We are way too different. But I know this isn’t true. I’ve seen him at Somerville’s and the job he does there is hard as hell. I’m just being weird because he doesn’t sit behind a desk all day, stressing himself out and chasing the all-mighty dollar. He’s probably onto something.
“Hard work though?” I now ask, trying to convince myself that he’s not hiding anything and it’s just me being an idiot.
“Yeah, but it’s the good kind of hard work. Jack is great to work for and recognizes the effort people put in. It’s certainly not where I thought I would be working after college, but hey, it works for me.”
“Hang on. You went to college? Where? For what?”
My nosiness is out of control, but he did say we were getting to know each other and that’s exactly what I’m doing. Even if it is under the guise of uncovering something shitty about him.
“You’re full of questions tonight,” he quips back, but there’s nothing that suggests annoyance in his words.
“I am, but you’ve been keeping a lot of secrets. I’m pretty much an open book. You know everything about me and it’s boring.”
“You’re not boring, Tessa,” he defends, and I feel myself grow a little bubbly at his use of my name. He didn’t call me Tess, making me think he’s trying. But I’m still a little skeptical about what brought on this sudden change. He can’t actually keep this up, right? He’s fucking with me and I’m going to be crying later because I should’ve listened to my gut.
It’s obvious that I’ve suddenly checked out, lost in my own worried thoughts, because I hear Dylan call my name and it’s clearly not the first time he’s said it. It’s a little louder, and I’m embarrassed that he’s going to ask me what I was thinking about.
“So, college,” I start, trying to change the subject before he realizes I’m stressing about giving him a second chance.
“Yep, college,” he replies, rocking on his heels a little cheeky smirk on his face. “I already know you went to college, too, but where?”
“University of Southern California,” I say, picking up a piece of bread Dylan has set out in front of us. He slides a platter of butter toward me and of course I don’t decline. “How about you?” I now add, even though I asked it before, and he deflected by saying I was asking too many questions. Actually, he didn’t say I was asking too many questions, but rather that I was full of questions. Obviously, I jump to the negative immediately.
