Torment

chapter four

"Yeah. It's not much, but it's cheap." I shuffle toward my dresser, keeping my back to him.

"This isn't a room," he admonishes, "it's a hallway."

"Actually, it's a back entrance." I point to a door in the side wall. "That's the back door. Our communal bathroom is right beside you."

"Communal bathroom?" he splutters. "People have to walk through your bedroom to use the bathroom?"

My dresser is finally within reach and I yank a hoodie out of the drawer and pull it over my head. "I only pay half the rent the others pay. I volunteered to take the room because I couldn't afford to pay the full amount, and I'm the only one without a regular bed friend."

"How many people live here? I saw at least ten when I walked through the house." He stops in front of my bookshelf and studies my books: an eclectic collection of college texts, medical reference books, running logs, travel guides for all the places I dream of visiting, thrillers, and romance novels. Lots of romance novels.

"Officially five, but usually there are about nine or ten people around if you count boyfriends, girlfriends, cousins, friends, and the odd vagrant." Relaxed now that I am decently covered and no longer besieged by naughty thoughts, I turn around and lean against the dresser.

"But it's not safe," Torment's voice rises sharply. "And you need privacy. How can you live like this?"

Why does no one ever understand? I like having people wander in for a pee and a chat. I'm a sociable girl. "It took a while to get used to. The biggest downside is that I can't let my parents visit. My stepfather is a policeman. If he saw this place, he would drag me home."

Torment crosses the room in two strides and twists the handle on the back door. The lock gives way and the door creaks open. "Who's your landlord? Anyone could come in this door. The lock isn't secure."

I want to tell him his delightful protective streak is showing, but I don't want to embarrass him. "Some guy who's never around. Slumlord. We haven't had a working stove for the last six months, and the dishwasher broke on Tuesday, but we'll be lucky if he even stops by in the next year."

Torment scrubs his hand over his face. "You said you don't make much at the hospital, but isn't it enough for a decent place to live?"

My cheeks heat. "I have a few college debts to pay. I also haven't decided yet what I want to do with my life, so it's okay for now. It's got...character."

I finally spot my cell under the bed and get down on my hands and knees to retrieve it.

"I'm sorry." He sounds genuinely contrite. "It's just...a woman should feel safe—" He cuts himself off and makes a choking sound. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting my phone. It must have fallen under the bed when you suddenly materialized in my room." Looking up over my shoulder, I follow his gaze to my bottom, waving around in the air, my panties partially exposed by the tears in my gym pants. Can this day get any worse?

There is just no elegant way to extract myself from this situation, so I don't even try. I grab my phone and back into the center of the room, delivery truck style but without the beeps.

"I'm guessing you don't have to share a bathroom at your house," I say with the casual tone of someone who isn't waving her half-naked bottom in the air in front of a hunky, semi-stranger and soon-to-be-boss. I push myself to my feet and edge my way back to the dresser, this time keeping my back to the wall.

He snorts a laugh. "No. Nor do I have a back door in my bedroom or a collection of random people walking around my house."

"Sounds lonely." I grab a T-shirt and a pair of jeans from the top drawer and shuffle over to the bathroom.