“A girl? I can’t see how that would matter.” He seems to scoff at the notion. “How different could it be than living with a dude?”
“What about living with me, specifically?” I suck in another breath, waiting. “I know the last few times you saw me I was a hot mess, but I promise you Elliot, I am not that girl. I swear, that was one bad decision, one I regret and thank God you were there.” I hate that he saw me drunk, hung-over.
I hate that he might have gotten a terrible first and second impression of me, ones I can’t erase from his mind.
“But I’m other things, too. I’m really tidy, and I bake the most ah-mazing French butter cookies—and nothing unhealthy for dinner, promise. I’ll be so good for your diet.”
I beam at him, hopeful, trying not to look like the kind of girl who cries in the library and passes out drunk on a regular basis. Normal. Rational. Calm.
The perfect roommate.
“Hmm.” Elliot taps his pen on the table, thoughtful. “You serious? Because I really don’t care if you’re a girl or not, I’d just like someone who’s going to pick up their shit and pay half the utilities—on time.”
“I’m really tidy, I swear, and I only brought clothes and school supplies from Massachusetts. You won’t even know I’m there.”
“You moved here with just clothes? How is that even possible?”
“I have almost no worldly possessions.” Annnd now I sound like a hobo. “The last two places I lived were furnished, which was awesome, but it means I have nothing to my name. Blessing and a curse.”
Judging by the look on his face, he is not hating this idea.
“Let’s say, hypothetically, I did move into your storage closet—what would I need?”
“A bed?”
“I could arrange that. Anything else?”
Just then, Elliot’s phone begins playing a mariachi tune, vibrating enthusiastically across the study table. “Shit. Can we finish this conversation later? I have to go.”
“Oh. Okay, yeah. Sure.” I pause. “Do you have a class?”
“No, a pick-up soccer game. There’s a big group of us that plays a few nights a month whenever we can.”
“Really?”
He’s packing up his bag, shoving the laptop inside haphazardly, suddenly in a rush. “Yeah, down at Hadley Park.” Glances up at me. “You should come sometime and watch.”
“I would love that. I actually play soccer.”
He stops. Stares at me. “You do?”
“Varsity, all through high school. I was a halfback.” I flash him a grin, running a hand along my long, sleek ponytail. “Man, was I fast.”
Elliot studies me a few more moments. Quirks a brow. “You interested in playing? That’s what a pick-up game is—anyone can join.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. Are you interested?”
“I…yeah. I mean, sure! Maybe I’ll come watch you play tonight then I can have my mom send my cleats? I’d have them by next week.”
“Cool.” Elliot stares down at my bag as he hefts his onto his broad, sexy shoulders, nodding toward the exit. “You coming or what, Donnelly?”
“Yes! Yes, I’m coming.”
Elliot
“St. Charles, you bringing dates to the games now or what?”
“Huh?” I’m down on the ground, tying my cleats when my teammate Devin hovers over me, giving my shoulder a nudge with his knee.
He’s wearing black shin guards and a shit-eating grin. “Bro, I asked you three times if you’re bringing a date to our games now. You’re not even paying attention.”
“A date? Why would you ask me if she was my date?”
“Because you brought a girl here and she’s been watching you the whole time?”
I look up from my laces, gaze colliding with Anabelle’s. She shoots over a small wave.
“Oh yeah, her—I should probably introduce you.”
“You got a girlfriend you forgot to tell us about?”
“Uh, no. I think that’s my new roommate?”
“Roommate?” Devin Pierce takes his turn glancing over at Anabelle Donnelly, legs crossed on a lawn chair, watching us intently. “Her?”
“We haven’t talked through all the details yet, but yeah, she’s probably going to move into my house.”
“Her? You’re going to live with her?”
My eyes narrow and I stand, pulling at my shin guards and adjusting my shorts. “Why are you saying it like that?”
He stares at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “Because, there is no fucking way you’re going to live in a house with her without wanting to, you know…”
Dev takes his hand, makes the symbol for okay, and then takes the forefinger from his other hand and pokes it through, over and over. Immature asshole.
I shake my head. “You are out of your fucking mind. Anabelle and I are just friends.”
Sort of.
“Men and women can’t be friends, yo, and they sure as shit can’t live together.”
“Why not?”
“Feelings and sex and shit.”
“That’s not going to happen, but thanks for the warning.”
“Hey man, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing! I just think you’re two reasonably attractive people with functioning downtown equipment. It’s going to happen.”
“Have you always been this annoying?”
“No. You’re just being sensitive because you know I’m right.” His eyes stray to the sidelines, hands propped on his waist. When he begins speaking, it’s as if he’s talking to Anabelle, but only I can hear him. “You totally dig him already, don’t you? Yup, yup, I see you watchin’ him, girl. He’s got real fine legs, don’t he?”
“Shut the fuck up, would you?”
He ignores me. “Stare a little harder, honey, he ain’t gonna notice. He’s got you planted firmly in the friend zone.”
“Stop talking like that. She’s watching us, not staring—there’s a huge difference.”
“You’re saying you haven’t had any dirty thoughts about her?”
“No.”
Dev laughs. “You will.”
A whistle blows in the distance and our feet start moving, our forward facing our goalpost, kicking the ball back to me.
I tap it still. Pause.
Run, moving it up the field a few yards before a defender from the yellow team invades my space. Pass it left to our midfielder.
Try to block out the image of Anabelle on the sidelines. She’s risen from her folding chair, clapping, hands around her mouth, shouting and calling my name.
Cheering me on.
The game is fast-paced and high energy and over before I know it, ninety minutes gone by in a flash.
Anabelle is waiting when we’re done, long ponytail swaying back and forth as she walks toward me, holding out a water bottle.
“You thirsty?”
I brought my own bottle, but her gesture is sweet. I reach for it. “Thanks.”
Chug.
I stop walking in my tracks. Blurt out, “I think we should do it.”
“Do it as in…”
“Move in together.”
She sucks in an excited breath, hands clasped under her chin. “You do?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
“Really?” she squeals, beginning a small hop that makes her boobs bounce. “Oh my gosh, Elliot, I could kiss you right now!” On her tippy toes, Anabelle folds me into an enthusiastic hug, squeezing the stuffing out of me, burying her face in my chest. “Thank you!”
Then she does kiss me, right on the underside of my chin, along my jaw. One quick kiss and another hug before she backs away, practically leaping in the air.
Talking a mile a minute.
“How soon can I bring my stuff over,” she jokes, doing a little fast footwork around an imaginary ball. “I don’t have much, so this is going to be so easy!”
“This weekend? Tonight?” I joke. “I don’t know, what works for you?”
“This weekend? Tonight!” she kids back. “Seriously Elliot, I am so freaking pumped.” Her arms go up and she jogs ahead of me. “Eek! I’m moving out of my dad’s house! This is the best day ever!” she yells into the night air.
I bite back a smile, staring down at the ground.
When I glance up, Dev is shaking his head from side to side, a knowing grin on his asshole face.
Anabelle
“Daddy, I have something to tell you.”
It’s late, half past eleven, but he had a long practice tonight with the team and has only just gotten settled in the living room, feet up on an ottoman, remote pointed at the television.
When he tips his head to the side, ear in my direction, I know he’s listening.
I can barely contain my excitement.
“I think I found a place to live.”
My father doesn’t move a muscle, eyes trained on the TV screen.
“Dad, I said I—”
“I heard ya, pumpkin. As soon as you called me Daddy, I knew you were up to something. It’s just taking me a few seconds to absorb the information.”
I step farther into the room, sitting next to him on the couch, twisting my body to face his even though he’s staring straight ahead.
“It’s such a great place, Dad,” I babble. “Small, but there isn’t any maintenance, and I’ll have plenty of room for my stuff and a roommate. Just one, so, kind of perfect.”