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But that won’t do at all. I can’t fall for Theo, not in the least because he’s already fallen for all sorts of women all over town.
Except, according to him, he’s out of that phase. I don’t know what to make of that possibility, so I focus on my new digs instead.
Camilla and I were up here last night cleaning, but now, I see it with fresh eyes. Even though it’s small, it’s mine. I’ve only ever lived with college roommates or my family, so it’s a whole new world, which makes me think of that song about unbelievable sights and indescribable feelings. I want to glide through the rooms and hallways singing the blockbuster Disney song while I admire my very own toilet, my very own doorstops, and my very own kitchen sink complete with a dish drainer and half a bottle of Dawn.
The small front room has a matching bright-blue velour sofa and loveseat set and a bookcase painted in a complementary yellow. In the kitchen, there are dark-cherry cabinets and a silvery tin Mexican-style backsplash. The floors are grey tile, and down the hall is a bathroom and bedroom. I like the old-fashioned plaid wallpaper, dark wainscoting, and the narrow door leading to the black iron-railed balcony. It’s small, and the view is unremarkable—it’s only the alley parking lot.
But it’s mine.
I step onto the balcony and look down through the falling snow at my dad’s truck. Theo’s nowhere to be seen, the dolly abandoned near the back door down below. When I hear heavy footfall up the steps, I rush to try to help him. He’s holding the office green filing cabinet on its side in both arms like a sack of potatoes and it’s blocking most of his ability to see.
“Whoa. You couldn’t wait for some help?” I toss out, guiding him with my voice and non-helpful arm and hand gestures. I try to ignore the very real bulging of muscles in his arms and the way his shoulders widen with the weight of the cabinet.
“Try” being the operative word. I have to tear my eyes away.
“Where do you want it?” he grunts out.
“Uh, just anywhere is fine.”
He rotates to one side to give me a pointed look. “Can you tell me where you’ll be keeping it?” he asks between gritted teeth. “Then we won’t have to move it again later.”
“Well, how about in the bedroom?”
With a nod, he carries it down the hallway.
“It’s the last door on the right,” I tell him before he goes inside.
“In the corner?” he asks, his voice strained.
“Yes. Sure.” I cringe. I bet he’s going to have a bulging disc in his spine after this.
He bends his knees and shoves it out and down, and it lands on the carpet with a thud. The front’s all scratched from the tailgate . . . and my stupidity.
Theo is breathing heavily, and he wipes his forearm across his brow. “What’s in there?”
“Only about twenty plus years of design ideas I tore from magazines or printed off.” I trap my lower lip between my teeth.
“Design? Like graphic design?”
“All kinds, really. And some branding ideas, some favorite works of art. I’ve got it divided into files and sorted by years and styles. It’s been my hobby for so long, I couldn’t part with it.” I chew on the inside of my cheek.
“Show me,” he says, and he’s almost caught his breath. It’s like he’s a sprinter and he’s just finished a race. His business casual clothing, with the fitted tan button-down shirt and mocha-colored pants—which are also fitted, a fact that I’m trying not to care about—suit him nicely. They complement his relaxed personality and decidedly unrelaxed body quite well, even if they’re damp from the snowy cabinet.
I wave him away. “There’s nothing that would interest you, Theo. It’s just my whims. Things that caught my eye, that resonated with me over the years.”
“I want to know what resonates with you.” He’s saying it with such a serious expression, without even a hint of sarcasm or flirtation. Does he really want to know?
Against my better judgement, I go to the top drawer, push the silver button near the handle, and pull, wiggling it because it got jammed from the damage. “Let’s see. You want to know what I liked senior year of college?”
I move my hair out of my way with the back of my hand and reach for the appropriate file. It’s jam packed with all kinds of random things: ads from the school newspaper that I liked, some class assignments, random stickers, matchbooks, even a napkin from a restaurant with a cool design.
“What’s this?” Theo’s behind me, and he’s tall enough that he can reach over my shoulder. He grabs something from the file.
My heart leaps into my throat when I see what he’s holding. A cut out of an assignment from a class. It’s Rob and me, toothy grins, and I photoshopped it, adding a rain drop treatment over the top.
I take a deep breath. “That’s Rob. I did it for an assignment.”
It takes me a minute to turn and meet Theo’s gaze, but when I do, his brows are raised, his eyes questioning. “I don’t mean for this to sound weird or anything, but he’s a handsome man.”
