Roommate Arrangement

Moving Day

Jade

Two days later my belongings are packed into a pitifully small pile of boxes and carted down to the lobby – thank god the elevator is working today – where Armstrong and Perrie are waiting to load them into the truck.

That's right. Perrie drives a truck. It's so not highbrow at all. It makes her even sexier. And it's not even a rental, which is practically unheard of in New York. It's a nice truck, one of those limited-edition ones with all the upgrades, but it's still a truck. I can understand why she wouldn't want to get rid of it, however impractical it may be.

What's also sexy is the way she effortlessly picks up another one of the boxes and carries it out the door. She's wearing an over-sized Harvard T-shirt and a pair of biker shorts. The only thing that sort of ruins the sexy a bit are her socks. They're white and reach her shins. If she could just take them off, or maybe trade them for a pair of ankle socks, then she'd be perfect.

It's hot, stiflingly so outside, and it's even worse in my apartment since I don't have air conditioning. Thankfully, there's not much left in my apartment. I'm assuming Perrie lives in some swanky place since it's in Tribeca. 

Perrie insisted we take all of my things to her place rather than renting a storage unit since I don't have a lot in the way of worldly possessions. I felt weird about it at first, until she said she has three bedrooms, two of which are rarely used. I also don't have the money to rent a storage unit, so that settled that argument pretty quickly.

The elevator doors open, and Leigh comes out toting my luggage, which is filled with the contents of my dresser and my closet. Once upon a time those bags would've been full to bursting. Not so much anymore.

"That's the last of it!" she says brightly. "Why don't you do one last check and then we can get out of here."

How she can still be so chipper and perfectly put together after spending the past hour riding up and down in an elevator is beyond me. I appreciate it, though, because I'm looking the part of a wilted flower. This flu bug thing Perrie gave me is really persistent.

"Sure thing." Once I get up there, I go through all the cupboards, checking to make sure I didn't leave anything behind by accident. I stand in the middle of my tiny apartment, a little sad to be leaving it behind. Even if it isn't the nicest place, it was mine.

I grab my purse and toss the six-pack of water bottles into it. As I'm about to close the door on this chapter of my life, quite literally, I scan the apartment one last time, taking in the bare mattress with the orange stain in the center where I spilled orange juice last year.

My gaze lands on my lounge chair. The one piece of furniture that didn't come with this apartment. There's no way I'm leaving it here. It's too heavy for me to carry, so I have to slide it across the floor. Then I have to jimmy it through the doorway. I'm sweating by the time I get it down the hall to the elevator. More than I was in the first place, anyway.

I shimmy it in there, hit the lobby button, and drop into the chair, out of breath from the exertion. The doors slide open when I reach the ground floor and I have to maneuver the chair back out.

"Want some help with that?" Perrie's voice comes from behind me.

"I'm good. I've got it." The chair isn't in the best shape. It's pretty old. When I recline in it, it lists a little to the right. But it's mine. So I want to take it with me, even if it should be destined for the dump. The elevator doors try to close on me as I'm dragging it out.

Perrie chuckles. "Here." She taps my hip. It feels like a lightning bolt just shot out of her fingertip and zapped me in my core. I'm instantly tingly down there. I jump out of the way, and she graces me with that damn dimpled smile. Then she picks up the heavy chair all by herself. "You want this on the sidewalk, or..."