It's late by the time Seth walks through the door, and, at the sight of him, I grin. I'm no longer alone. Realizing what I'm doing, I drop my lips and attention back to my laptop so he doesn't see it.
"There you are." He sets two bags on the island across from me. "Marsha told me about this terrifying creature constantly hunched over her work, obliterating authors' hopes and dreams. I was wondering when you'd surface."
"Very funny."
"Great. I can already tell you're gonna be a blast tonight." He rolls his eyes. "I picked out some fresh ingredients at the farmer's market for dinner and even splurged on a bottle of this thing you women drink called wine." He pulls the bottle from one of the bags and shimmies it in the air. "I'm not sure how I feel about this red color, but the lady assured me it'll knock your socks off. I figured it was okay as long as we drink it over the sink. Can't risk any spills."
I smile at his effort, feeling its effects concentrate beneath my rib cage. "Thank you, that was-" the word tip toes on my tongue, "-nice. But I'm swearing off alcohol for a while."
"Because you turn into the Ms. Hyde version of yourself? Yeah, probably a wise choice. We'll just put this under here for a special occasion then." He sets the bottle in the cabinet below the sink and begins unloading his ingredients. Some are foreign to me while many are bright, wonderful colors. I'm hypnotized by the selection.
"Be honest, how many times did you check every nook and cranny of this apartment when you got home?" he asks, yanking me out of my trance.
Tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear, I answer honestly. "Once."
"I'm impressed. You really are starting to trust me." Pulling a wad of bills from his back pocket, he rifles through them and throws a stack in front of me. "This might help the process along a bit."
"What's this for?"
"Rent."
I pick up the cash and count it. Holy mother, it's one-thousand dollars. Plus, whatever he's shoving back into his pocket. "You really weren't kidding about that face of yours, were you?"
"Nope," he replies, popping the p. "The middle-aged women can't seem to get enough of it."
I shake my head and roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my mouth. "Your modesty is commendable."
Leaning his slender frame over the island, he taps my nose. "I've missed that bark of yours today."
I want to tell him I've missed our repertoire, too-especially his funny remarks and the sound of his laugh in response to mine. But it's more than that. I've missed the shuffle of his feet along my hardwoods, the fluid motion of his actions, and the way his presence fills the entire apartment, making it less stuffy. The truth is, I've missed everything about him today.
I swallow that response down and glance at the fish on the island. "Is that salmon?"
"Look at you knowing quality ingredients."
"I know what salmon is."
"I was sure unless it contained lethal amounts of high fructose corn syrup, you'd be completely oblivious to a foods existence." He shrugs. "My mistake."
"This is coming from the former homeless kid," I say, leaning forward to tease him in return. "Tell me, how many of these quality meals did you make growing up?"
He doesn't take offense, chuckling at my jab. "I had the occasional foster family before they gave up on me."
The sentence and its easy delivery have a crack splitting into my heart, but he doesn't give me a second to feel it before pushing on.
"You'd be surprised what you learn to create with limited options." I recall breakfast medley muffins before he lifts from the counter. "But let's skip this discreet segue of yours into more facts about my past, shall we?"
"That's not what I was doing."
"Sure it wasn't." His eyes linger on mine a fraction of a second too long before they glance at my laptop. "What are you working on?"
I groan. "The same manuscript I was supposed to be working on yesterday. But the genre isn't my cup of tea. It's boring and vague and yet still holds an abundance of pretentious diction in every sentence."
Ripping open plastic wrap with his thumb, Seth pulls a cherry tomato from its basket and tosses it into his mouth. "Is that the same one on your computer back in my room?"
"Yes."
"Then I feel your pain. Only an idiot can make a badass like Grant Benfield dull."
My mouth sags. "You are aware Grant murdered twenty-eight women, right?"
"Yeah, sure," he says, disregarding the info as if I'd told him Clive sported a goatee. "But the guy was a genius. He had an impressive tolerance for hard liquor, threw down with some of the big wigs in the Chicago crime scene and still lived to tell about it. He took what he needed and stole what he wanted. Plus, any man capable of luring educated women back to his apartment in order to 'slay' their demons gets an automatic win in my book."
I eye him warily. "I don't know whether to be impressed with your knowledge or terrified by your enthusiasm."
"It was a joke, I was joking."
Threading my fingers through my hair, I sigh. "Well, then I have an even bigger problem on my hands because somehow Heath Briggs has managed to write a terribly boring depiction of this supposed badass and I don't even know where to begin with correcting it."
Seth's gaze lifts from the cheese he's unwrapping. "Want my help?"
My mouth pops open. "You read it?"
"I had some free time last night after you went to bed. I think you fall asleep the same time geriatrics do." He sets the cheese onto the counter and walks to my side, giving me judgy eyes. They glare the perfect shade of disapproval. "Really, Ellie? Nine pm?"
"Some of us wake up before the sun does. Now shut it and help. I'm desperate."
At the sight of my hands clasped together in a beg, an arrogant smirk I'm becoming all too familiar with makes an appearance. "What are the magic words?"
"You're an asshole."
"I still need to get that nametag made."
I snarl at him.
"Alright, alright." He shakes with laughter before leaning in front of my laptop. Our shoulders brush as he reads over the copy; the heat mushrooms out onto my arm. It's warm and tempting and has my nerve endings sparking.
I try not to get lost in the sandalwood scent radiating from his skin when he points at the paragraph in the middle of the page. "Here's an example. The problem with your new book is the guy's facts are inaccurate. No one would shatter a car window before they steal it. They'd shimmy a wire hanger between the window and the weather stripping and find the lever. It's not rocket science and way more inconspicuous."
He twists his head so our eyes meet.
I'm vaguely aware Seth's describing details on how to commit certain crimes but I'm more interested in the color of his eyes. From this distance, I'm caught in his riptide. That luring blue of the ocean is threatening to pull me in as the waves recede. However, I'm aware of what's happening just enough to step back safely onto the sand and keep my head above water.
I take a deep breath, pretending the back of my throat isn't dry because it's desperate to taste like him. "And how exactly do you know these methods?"
"I watch a lot of movies."
"Sure you do."
He cocks his head, switching on the charm I've uncovered is his defense mechanism. "Curiosity killed the cat, Ellie."
I bat my eyelashes. "And deflection annoyed the roommate, Seth."
"That's unfortunate." He pouts, stepping back around the island. "Now get back to work. You know the issues now and you're not ruining dinner by working through it."
After a quick flip of my middle finger, I get to work. With Seth's guidance, the process is easier and my fingers speed across the keyboard, deleting here and adjusting words and sections there. Seth's humming is my background melody and dinner's aroma is my motivation. But although the process goes smoothly, I'm lacking the satisfying thrill typically accompanying my corrections. I used to gain pleasure from accomplishing a task, making another's work perfect. Now I'm just relieved it's nearly completed.
When Seth announces dinner is ready, I'm lacking my traditional triumph. It's disconcerting, but I don't want it to spoil our meal. So I smile as he sets down my plate of Feta Salmon Salad and I take my first bite.
Once again the decadence of the meal douses my taste buds in euphoric bliss and I let out a tiny moan. "Thank you for making dinner. It's delicious."
"Of course it is. But feel free to keep making those noises of yours if you'd like."
I laugh before downing another bite, and although I'm astounded by the taste of our meal, I'm still distracted by my lack of interest in my work. As much as I try, I can't shake my unease. Seth might still be a stranger, but he's the person I have right now and I need a sounding board.
"You know, yesterday when you called me out about working-"
"Do we really have to do this?" He groans, stabbing his salmon with his fork.
"Do what?"
"Another caring and sharing session."
"You know, people sometimes have meaningful conversations with one another."
He closes his eyes and lets his head fall onto his shoulder. A little smack is all it takes to startle him back to life.
"Wait. Were you talking? Sorry, I dozed off for a second."
"You're hilarious," I deadpan. "But really, about my work-"
"I used your soap this morning when I took a shower."
I rub my temples in an attempt to remain calm. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to delay this conversation." He grins like a smug idiot. "Obviously."
"Well, are you done?"
He diverts his attention back to his salad and lifts a chunk of cucumber into his mouth. "I drank straight from the carton of milk last night."
"You wouldn't dare." A tremble rockets down my sign at the idea of his saliva on the rim of my half-gallon.
He lowers his head, bringing his face right in front of mine. "Or would I?"
"Seth, please. I'm trying to say you were right."
"Usually am."
Realizing my effort is pointless, I lean back and pick up my fork. "Never mind."
"Oh, c'mon." He lifts his hand to fix the strap of my camisole which has fallen down my shoulder. "I'm kidding. Go on."
His fingertips skate along my skin, burning my flesh, and now I'm frustrated. Having a serious conversation with him feels like pulling teeth-painful with nothing but a big gaping hole of nada to show for it. And yet, my body is still ludicrously attracted to him.
I pull my shoulder from his touch and take another bite of salad. "No. Let's just talk about more meaningless crap like my poor taste in food."
"Stop being a sour puss. Just spill what you want to spill. I'm here. Divulge."
I glance at him and although he's teasing me, genuine curiosity gleams from his eyes. I'm still frustrated, but I need my sounding board. Sighing, I set down my fork.
"Okay. Well the thing is, I used to love what I do and I had no problem working my life away because I was working toward something. But I'm starting to worry I'm stuck."
"At a place that takes you for granted."
"Yes. My life has always been planned out and on this strict path of achievements, and now that a promotion is no longer an option, that drive isn't there anymore." I take another bite to configure my thoughts. "Or it could be the material. Or it could be the distractions. I don't know."
"Then quit and find someplace else to work."
He makes it sound so easy, but, "It's not that simple. Jobs aren't easy to come by and I already have you living here because my funds are inadequate to my bills. I just don't know what to do to get that fire back."
He eyes me thoughtfully. "Have you considered writing?"
"No."
"Why? After what you've been through, it's not like you don't have the life experience to share a unique voice."
Hearing someone reference my incidents with my mother is foreign, and yet reassuring. It's no longer a secret I carry on my own. It's a pleasant thought, but not the topic of our conversation. So I switch back to it.
"Because I like the control of analyzing and critiquing someone else's work. I'm not sure I'd be able to handle the same criticism."
"You don't say."
"And even if I did want to become a writer, I'd still have to find another job."
I wait as he chews his food, pondering all the pieces I've tossed in his direction. Just as I think he's ignoring me, he says, "Alright then. When life hands you lemons-"
"You make overused clichés?"
Seth shakes his head. "You're missing my point. You have this path lined up in your head, but even straight roads meander."
"Are we just tossing out any cliché now?"
He places his index finger on my lips, effectively shutting me up. I have a strong urge to pull it into my mouth to taste it with my tongue.
"Your company sucks and according to Marsha you work more than anyone should. Until now, you've been alright with that. But now you're pissed and have the opportunity to shake it up. You can still find success. Just keep pumping out materials for the Wright's and look into other companies on the side. Ones who will pay you what you're worth."
After a beat, he pulls his finger away, offering me the chance to respond.
"And if they find out?"
He smiles, something genuine and heartfelt. "We hope like hell my pretty face holds up long enough to support us both until you find another job."
My heart pounds in my chest. Seth technically owes me nothing-besides his next rent check in a few weeks-and yet, he's already invested enough in this friendship to support me if I need him to. In a world full of terrible people, it's becoming glaringly obvious an exceptional one stumbled through my door.
"You'd do that for me?"
"Only if you replace my fucking pony key with the Giants one I want."
It's suddenly on my to-do list for tomorrow after I get off work, but I keep up our usual charade. "We'll cross that road when we get to it." I take a bite of my now lukewarm salmon. "You know you can buy it yourself."
"Where's the fun in that?" He scoffs, repeating my action.
His mention of fun reminds me of my discussion with Rita and her request of extending an invitation to Seth.
"Speaking of fun, my friend Rita invited us over next Friday for football and party games." I hope the enthusiasm I coat on flows through to him.
It doesn't.
"Sounds scandalous."
He's right, party games are the absolute opposite of scandalous for a single guy, but there's also another important part of the evening I have to admit. "It's a set-up."
He chokes on his lettuce. "For you?"
"Yep."
His eyes darken, his features morphing into hard lines and sharp edges. If I wasn't paying attention, I might have missed the shift entirely before it dissolved into indifference. "And why exactly do I need to be there?"
"Because she wants to meet you. And I'd like your opinion. We're friends and my friend's opinions are important."
It's subtle, but his eyes light up. "So my opinion matters to you?"
I scrunch my nose. "A little."
"Then it's a good thing I work the lunch shift that day."
"Great." And I shouldn't do it, especially since I have another guy lined up to be my date for the evening, but before I can stop myself, I blurt out, "And she wants you to bring Marsha as your date."
I, Ellie West, am a liar.
My throat tightens, and before I'm given the chance to redeem myself, he grins wickedly. "Does this mean we finally get to fuck on your couch?"
"No. It just means it's been a while since Rita's seen Marsha and she doesn't want too many people there." And the image of you with another girl wrapped around your arm engulfs me in fury.
Seth holds out his hand for me to shake. "Okay then, I'll be there to judge your wannabe boyfriend if you look into other jobs."
My eyes narrow at his conditions before they relax. He's pushy, but he's doing it for my benefit, and I can't deny it's nice having someone in my corner. It takes a minute for me to ease the contentment rushing through my body.
"You've only lived here a few days and you're already asking me to make important life changes."
He shrugs. "I'm an overachiever."
Relating to that, I take his hand and shake it. "Well then, deal. But I need your help with the rest of my manuscript."
His grip tightens, the warmth of it enveloping my fingers as he turns serious. "Sure, but afterwards we watch Scarface."
"You're pushing it now."
With my hand still trapped in his, he inches forward, his breath against my lips. "Don't fool yourself. You live for our push and pull." I do. I also live for the words that follow. "Just wait until I find your pressure points. Then we'll really start having fun."