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Uncrossing his arms, he pulls his phone from his back pocket. It vibrates in his hand. Then again, and before it’s even through, again and again.
My brow lifts with his, and for a second, his smile feels more like the one I knew.
“Started about five minutes ago. Hasn’t stopped.”
Uh-huh. Okay.
“You knew I was here.” I can feel the heat creeping up my neck and into my face.
“Had an apple while I watched through the door. Actually, I had two. The second was supposed to be for you. Like a ‘welcome to the apartment’ apple. But then you just stood there with this horror-stricken look on your face.” He shrugs, those intense blue eyes never leaving mine. “So I ate it.”
A choked laugh slips free, because even though I can see he isn’t charmed by this whole situation… I also see a glimpse of the ridiculous guy I was half in love with from the first time he tugged my ponytail in bio to ask if he could cheat off me on the quiz… then winked, telling me he’d eaten his Wheaties and his Ritalin that morning, and he’d nail it on his own.
How am I actually standing face-to-face with Ben Boerboom? “No apple for me, then?”
The corner of his mouth hitches impossibly higher and he repockets his still ringing phone. “Not unless you come in. Which I can see wasn’t your plan. But FYI, there are more inside.”
“You were actually okay with me living here?” With him?
“I bought you a whole damn bowl of apples, didn’t I?”
And then he’d watched me flip out and try to sneak off. “Boomer, I feel like a jackass here.”
One eye squints. “For trying to bail without a word? Yeah, that tracks.”
“That too. But… I honestly had no idea this was your apartment. And to show up here without so much as?—”
“A Facebook poke?”
Another laugh escapes, and I nod. “Yeah, or anything else.”
Like even a hello… in eight years. Not that he’d been sending Christmas cards either.
“Look, it’s fine. Did I think it was weird as fuck that you were planning to move in without contacting me? Yeah. But now that we’ve cleared that up, how about you come in. Sit down while you figure out what you want to do.”
I’m already nodding and, when he flashes me a grin that is so purely the guy I secretly loved from high school, it knocks the air right out of me.
“Ben.”
He takes my bag and winks. “Move it, Elliot.”
Why not.
I’ll have an apple. Book my hotel and then get the hell out.
2
Ben
The gym is my special place.
It’s where I go to channel my excess energy. Sometimes it’s where I try to quiet my brain, letting go of my spinning thoughts and just sinking into the push and pull of my muscles working to make me better at my job.
And sometimes it’s my sucky attempt to escape whatever stupid shit I’ve gotten myself into.
Like a new roommate.
All I had to do was not open the door last night.
