Room For Rent

Chapter Six

With Connor’s help, we moved everything out of the truck in under 30 minutes. It helped that even after buying new furniture, I did not own that much. 

Over the past six years, I have moved in and out of several dorm rooms and apartments.  I had this down to a fine science. Having Connor help turned it into a bit of a dance. I knew if I let myself, I would spend far too much time watching the way that his biceps moved or listening to his occasional grunts as he moved something heavy, so I tried to time my trips to the truck to be opposite his. 

Last night, I had come to the realization that I wasn’t very good at relationships, and I knew that the very last thing that I needed was to be lusting after my new roommate. Or sorry housemate, as he insisted on calling us. But he took me by complete surprise. Unfortunately for me, it wasn’t just his looks that caught my attention. 

He spent the whole time cracking jokes with my parents and being beyond considerate. He made sure that everything was placed down carefully and in a way that would make unpacking as easy as possible. 

I was growing increasingly convinced that living with Connor would either be some new form of torture, or it could even be a bit fun. I wasn’t sure which option I feared more. 

Once we had finished moving everything in and my new bed had been assembled, Connor disappeared upstairs. He claimed that he had some work to do before tomorrow, but it was like a switch had been flipped in him. Something in him had suddenly closed off, and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that either. 

Shortly after, my parents also left so that I could unpack everything just the way I wanted it. I loved unpacking. It was so much fun to find a new home for everything and make it feel like home. 

When dinner time rolled around, I decided to try and find Connor. I planned to go pick up some pizza and beer as a thank you for helping. I went upstairs, hoping to find a door open or, better yet, find him lounging in his living room. He had been so particular about shared spaces versus personal spaces that I wasn’t sure he would appreciate me barging through his area looking for him. 

The upstairs seemed like a ghost town. All of the doors were shut, and it was difficult to tell if there were any lights on without fully going into Connor’s area. 

“Connor?” I called from the kitchen, really hoping that I would not be disturbing him. When no response came, I decided just to go pick up the pizza and beer; hopefully, I would find him before he got his own dinner. 

The thought of leaving a note briefly crossed my mind, but that felt too...couple-y. I wanted to show my gratitude, not any creepy clingy side. Despite the well-laid-out lease, it seems that there may be a few things we need to work out about our living arrangement. 

****

I spent the following week completely immersed in my work. The busy weekend had me feeling a bit more in control. I also learned the vital key to ending my obsession with the past, keeping busy. 

I returned to working long hours and ensured that all work that crossed my desk had my complete focus. I also re-did a lot of my work from the previous two weeks. Every morning I made sure that my to-do list was filled. 

I would not let myself think about Eric, Emily, or the past. I also would not let myself think about Connor, who I had not seen since Sunday.  I occasionally heard him moving around, but everything seemed locked up tight when I made discrete trips to the kitchen. 

While a large part of me felt that this was for the best, I couldn’t deny my bitter disappointment. I was intrigued by the Connor that had helped me move in. Though it seemed that side of him was rare, or maybe he was just busy. 

Whatever the case may be, it was not my problem, and I would not let myself think about it. Or him. And I would not under any circumstances think about his eyes. Or his tousled hair. Or -

Ugh!

I am pretty sure that listing all of the things that I was not thinking about constituted thinking about someone. 

When Thursday finally rolls around, I threw myself into work with almost feverish abandon. Today would have been my official two-year anniversary of dating Eric. Realizing that this morning brought about a fresh surge of pain. 

I hadn’t heard from either Eric or Emily after I had cleaned out my apartment. I wasn’t really sure what to do about that. I knew that closure and answers to my questions might make moving on easier. Yet every time I thought about reaching out to either of them, I felt queasy. This, in turn, made me feel like I was being childish. 

I knew that I needed to face this, get my answers and close the door on this whole thing. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do that. 

So instead, I focused on work. At least Mr. Meyer was happy about my renewed focus. I am pretty sure I heard him let out a sigh of relief on Monday when he saw that my workload had increased and my quality of work had returned to normal. 

On some level, it felt like things were slowly starting to come back together. I still had my job, and I had a place to live. What else could I possibly need? 

When I left work, my mood had soured entirely. I knew that I was in for a long night and I was seriously debating calling up Eric. A war was raging inside of me, and I just wanted it all to stop. 

I pulled up to the house and grabbed my phone. I fiddled with it as the debate continued to rage on. 

I must have sat there for at least a few minutes before my phone vibrated, shocking me out of my reverie and causing me to drop it. My cellphone flew into the black hole that existed between my console and car seat. 

Swearing, I got out of my car, hoping that would make this slightly more manageable. It didn’t. Getting myself into an awkward aerobic position to try and get my short arm to reach the bottom of what must be an endless pit, I strained and resumed cursing when I could only just barely feel the edges of the phone. 

“Well, that is not what I expected to see tonight,” the tenor voice with a hint of rumble had me nearly jumping out of my skin. I tried to right myself so quickly that my head banged against the roof of my car. The impact was so strong it sent me sprawling back over the seat. 

“f**k!” I screamed as I tried desperately to gather what remained of my shredded dignity. 

“Jesus, Natalie! Are you ok? I think our neighbors heard that!” Giving up on dignity, I slid into my car seat and rested my head against the steering wheel. I felt a hand on my back and slowly pivoted my head to find deep blue eyes inches away from mine. 

With his eyes this close and the light that my car provided, his eyes looked like shining sapphires. Rich, deep, and so incredibly mysterious. I was getting lost again, and I didn’t care.

“I’m fine,” I said, not wanting to look away. 

“What was with the contortion act?” Connor asked as he moved his eyes from mine to look me over. When his gaze dipped down, I could almost swear that his eyes grew darker. That had to be a trick of the light. I was just glad that I decided to wear my black skinny jeans and not the skirt I almost wore. 

“I dropped my phone,” my head was still resting on the steering wheel, and I wasn’t sure that I could lift it. Now that the eye contact had broken, the pain that throbbed through my head was stealing my focus. 

“Out. I’ll get it for you,” his words were full of command, but his tone was almost hesitant. 

I slowly followed his direction and felt the world spin. Something in my body language must have alerted him to my dizziness since he was there helping me out of the car before I could fully comprehend what happened.

“Woah. You don’t seem okay. I’ll grab your phone and get you inside.” He helped prop me up against the car, and in one graceful movement, he bent down and grabbed my phone. I gaped at him. Was this guy magic? Because seriously, there was definitely a black hole down there.  I wonder if he would be able to find the lipstick I lost months ago.

He handed me my phone and pulled me against him, walking us to the door. I hated to admit it, but I did need his help.

He guided me all the way downstairs and toward my futon couch. 

“Thank you. I hadn’t realized how hard I hit my head,” I let out an awkward chuckle as I rest my head against the couch. 

“I’m sorry that I scared you. I really hadn’t expected to see that today. You took me a bit by surprise,” Connor’s gaze swept over me again and seemed to linger at my hips. This time his eyes definitely darkened. An intense look crossed his face but was gone before I could decipher it. 

“Well, I guess I am the one that owes you an apology,” another awkward chuckle slipped out, and I was about ready to smack myself. I really need to stop doing that. 

“You never need to apologize for that,” a hint of promise underlined his tone. I swallowed. Was he hitting on me? No, definitely not. I must be reading into things. 

“Oh, ok,” he smiled at me, and I almost lost my balance again, which would have been weird since we were both sitting on my tiny couch. 

“I never thanked you for the pizza on Sunday.” 

When I couldn’t find Connor, I had put the leftover pizza and beer in the fridge with a note that said, ‘Thanks for your help today.’ The pizza and beer were gone the next day, so I knew that he had seen it. I was still surprised, though, by his gratitude. It seemed weird to be thanked for, well, thanking someone. 

“It wasn’t a problem. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just got pepperoni and some Laughing Lab. I hope that was okay.” 

“It was perfect. You can never go wrong with pepperoni. The beer was good too.” 

Despite the awkward moments, talking to Connor felt nice. I could already feel my headache begin to dissipate.

“How are you feeling?” concern filled his voice.

“Better. My headache is gone, and the world seems to be standing still. So that is good.” 

“I’ll go grab you some Tylenol anyway, just in case. That seemed like a really hard knock.” Connor got up with a stretch that caused his shirt and jeans to part. The bit of olive skin that peaked out had my mouth watering. “Did you have plans for dinner? I was going to order Chinese if you are interested. My treat for injuring you.” 

“Chinese sounds great. I can pay for my own, though. The head injury was my own fault.” I shot him a sheepish smile. He returned that with a devilish smile that promised mischief. 

“We will just have to see about that, won’t we,” with that, he turned and jogged upstairs. Presumably to get the Tylenol. 

Remembering how this all started, I blushed as I pulled my phone out. If I didn’t know any better, I might believe that Connor had been turned on by my ass hanging out of the car and my legs being contorted while I tried to get my phone. 

It was a good thing that I knew better. 

I unlocked my screen, and my stomach dropped at the text message that sat there.

Emily: Can we talk?