Definitely, Maybe in Love(14)

"Fine," I cut her off. "He's a … a good shaver."

Julia rolled her eyes.

"And his face is very symmetrical."

"Hot," she said sarcastically, but I'd apparently pacified her enough for the moment. "Grab your bags. It's time."





Chapter 10

Dart was all smiles and excitement when he opened the front door, one  hand gripping the top as it swung open. "Hi, sweetheart," he said to  Julia, resembling a kid about to take a pony ride.

"Hi," she replied, managing to blush. They'd been together for three  months and she still acted like every time they saw each other was their  first date. Apparently, Dart was a sucker for good girls. And you  couldn't get more "good" than Julia.

I wondered if she would have the guts to wear that mystery item of black  lace for him. Then I reminded myself to have a serious talk with her  about Anabel. Someone like Julia did not need to be guided by the  resident Kardashian sister of Stanford. But when Dart moved in to kiss  Julia and she tilted her face so he got her cheek, I figured that talk  could wait.

My time previously spent inside the Knightly/Charleston abode was  fleeting, and I'd never been over when Knightly was there. I preferred  to keep our relationship-such as it was-at a professional distance.

This was not supposed to include sleeping in his house for a week.

The place wasn't your typical college bachelor pad. No flashing neon  signs on any of the walls, no beer cooler coffee table, no kitschy lava  lamps, and not a single barbell or free weight scattered on the floor,  which was what I usually tripped over when entering any other  testosterone-filled dwelling on campus.

As we crossed the threshold into the living room, Knightly was sitting  on the couch, bent over a stack of opened textbooks, a laptop at his  side. He was wearing dark pants, and the top two buttons of his solid  blue shirt were undone. A dark blue tie was draped over the back of the  couch.

"They're here." Dart beamed, ushering us in.

Knightly looked up from his work, his expression cordial. "Hey, there,"  he said, closing his book and standing. "Is there anything I can do? All  the bags in?"

Julia and Dart were too busy cooing at each other to answer.

"Got everything. I think we're set," I answered, kind of feeling like a idiot.

He nodded and it was quiet again. I should have been used to his patches  of silence by now. We'd had five study sessions in the last month; half  the time we were debating, the other half, you could hear a pin drop.  We were experts at the classic impasse.                       
       
           



       

"Umm, we really appreciate this," I forced myself to utter, trying not  to sound like I was swallowing medicine. "Thanks for letting us stay."

"Sure," he replied. "Once I learned your circumstances, it didn't make sense any other way. We're neighbors."

"Right," I said. "Neighbors."

He eyed me. "Why do you say it like that?"

I felt like laughing. Last time we'd met to go over my thesis, we'd  almost come to blows. Well, I'd almost come to blows while Knightly had  sat there, watching in silence as I'd become more and more angry at the  way he thought my project should go. But if he still considered us just  neighbors, then fine.

"Never mind," I said.

Dart's shoulder bumped me as he swept by. He had one of Julia's  suitcases in his hand. She followed behind him, towing the other on its  wheels.

Knightly glanced at me. "I suppose they know where they're going."

I smiled a little awkwardly.

"May I?" he asked, looking down at my side. I wasn't sure what he meant until he picked up the straps of my bag.

"I can carry it."

"I'm sure you can, but I've already got it," he said, walking deeper  inside the house. I followed him around a corner to a narrow hallway.

"Have you been here before?" he asked.

"A few times. Only the living room."

"We'll save the grand tour for later. I'll give you the five cent  version now. It's a very logical setup. Purposefully logical. There are  five bedrooms and only the two of us." He glanced over his shoulder.  "Dart and myself, I meant. Not you and I. How would that look?"

"Frightful," I said, laughing.

He led me up the stairs.

"Each room is painted one dominant color," he explained. "You most  likely didn't notice the red room we just passed. It's the only bedroom  on the first floor. Lilah will stay in there."

"Can't wait," I muttered.

He paused on the landing, his brown eyes sizing me up. He must've read  my sour expression. "Oh, that's right. You two don't get along. Why is  that?"

"I get along fine. She's the one who wants me dead."

Knightly thought for a moment then nodded sagely. "Got it. No more questions."

"Thank you," I said, and we continued up the stairs.

"This is Dart's room." He gestured to the first room behind a closed  door. "Gold. I told him he could repaint, but he likes the color, calls  it Zen. Your roommate is across the hall from him. Naturally."

"Naturally," I echoed, walking past her room. I heard muffled voices through the crack in the door.

"Also Dart's," he said, gesturing to a bathroom as he breezed by.

We passed by two more closed doors without any details. I guessed they were being saved for part of the later "grand tour."

The last door of the hallway was wide open, lights on. "I'm assuming green is your favorite color, Ms. Environmentalist."

"How long did it take you to think that one up?"

Knightly stood at the doorway, allowing me to enter first. The room had  clean, bright white walls with three-inch green, black and white  checkered borders around the ceiling and floor. Behind green striped  curtains, one huge window faced east. The cozy boudoir was fancier than  any hotel room I'd stayed in.

"Thanks. This is really nice."

"You're our first official guest," he said, leaning against the door  frame. "Lilah doesn't count, in my book." He dropped my overstuffed  Adopt a Rainforest duffel bag in front of him. "Well, you should have  everything you need." He turned on his heel and took one step into the  hall. "Bathroom's next door. It's mine. We're sharing."

And he disappeared.

I stared at the empty doorway where he'd been standing.

Sharing a bathroom? With Henry Knightly? That won't be awkward at all …

My mind quickly calculated how much I had on my one emergency credit  card. I moaned, arms hanging limply at my sides. I hated feeling so  helpless, so financially strapped. I wished I could call my mother to  bail me out, but that was never a realistic option. After I graduated,  hopefully I wouldn't have to stress so much about money.

But for now, like a good little soldier, I hung clothes in the closet,  tossed shoes under the bed, gathered together my absolutely necessary  toiletries, and headed next door.

The bathroom was immaculate, not a speck of dust, not a single lock of  hair. Even the glass shower doors were spotless. The room was the same  combination of brown, gray, cream, and black as the living room, and  smelled of aftershave, pinecones, and bleach.                       
       
           



       

The cabinet unit was a warm cinnamon color with black hardware. There  were two doors on either side, and three drawers in the center. The  middle drawer was empty, and had been pulled out almost all the way and  left open. Knowing my host's etiquette, I was sure this was meant for  me. My few hair products, toothbrush and toothpaste, soap, and face  cleanser all fit nicely inside.

After securely locking the door behind me, I snuck a peek at the shelves  behind the mirror. An electric toothbrush, green Speed Stick, a small  brown bottle of cologne with an Italian label peeling off, and an urn of  MAC hair putty.

On the counter next to the sink sat a blue-and-gray-glazed pottery mug of shaving cream and a lathering brush.

Yep, I thought as I took a quick whiff of the spicy foam, that's him.

The linen closet next to the shower was that same warm cinnamon. I  creaked open the door and examined the contents. Nothing out of the  ordinary there, either. Down on my knees, I stuck my head under the  sink. I didn't know what I was expecting to find as I ruthlessly snooped  through other drawers and cabinets. Perhaps I was hoping for that one  item that would tell me all about him, that elusive clue to confirm  everything.

But whatever it was I was searching for, I didn't find it. Henry  Knightly had all the earmarks of any other twenty-three-year-old  conservative student of jurisprudence.

I headed downstairs to join the others, somewhat disappointed.

Everyone was in the kitchen. The grand meal wasn't for a few days, but  Julia was already in full-blown domestic mode, chopping vegetables for  nibbling, and a platter of crackers and dip sat on the table. Dart was  rinsing something at the sink. When Julia came up behind him, she slid  her first two fingers into the back of his jeans at the waist. It was a  tiny gesture, to which Dart didn't even react. I don't know why it  caught my attention.