by RC Boldt
“Okay,” I say slowly, “but what about guests and sleepovers? Because I’m not a huge fan of having to listen to moaning and—”
“Not a problem.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I can totally stay at Jack’s place. He doesn’t have a roommate. It’s no big deal.” He flashes me another smile, and I feel my ovaries weep his name.
It’s a good thing he’s gay. Otherwise, let’s be real. I’d likely end up being that roommate who accidentally-on-purpose “sleepwalks” into his bedroom—naked—and has sex with him.
Holy crap. Did I really just think that? Bad, Maggie. Baaaad, Maggie.
Glancing over his paperwork, I say, “If you don’t mind, I have a few other applicants to interview.” Lies. I’m totally stalling. Raising my eyes, I find him watching me expectantly; that gaze centered on me in such a way that I feel like I’m the only person who exists right now. “But, tentatively, I’d like to offer you the room for rent.”
If I thought Ryland’s smile was ovary-lurch inducing before, this one trumps that. Big time. It’s blindingly bright and infectious, and I can’t help but return it. We sit there for a moment before he clears his throat, and I remember what else I have to tell him.
“So, as I mentioned earlier, the utilities normally run this much per month.” I use my capped pen to point at the sheet I had printed, which includes all the pertinent financial information. “We’ll split it fifty-fifty. Rent is due on the first of the month, and a late fee will be imposed if it isn’t in by the fifth day.” I recap a few other details and ask him if he’d like to look at the room.
He agrees, and when we stand, pushing in our chairs, he helps me slip into my coat once I pluck it from where I’d draped it over the back of my chair.
I repeat: Ryland took it upon himself to help me put on my coat.
I know, right? He has to be gay. Because no normal guy would take the initiative to do that for a woman. Especially not in this day and age.
Exiting the busy Starbucks, we fall in step along the crowded sidewalk full of the usual Saturday foot traffic as I lead him to my apartment building. He rushes up to beat me to the large, heavy doors to the building, reaching out to hold it open for me. Flashing him a smile, I thank him.
Such a gentleman, this one. Jack is one hell of a lucky guy.
“Hey, Mr. Charlie!” I smile, greeting our lead building attendant. He’s become like an adopted father to both Sarah and me. He’s sweet as pie and always watches out for us.
“Have to use your handcuffs on anyone recently, Chad?” I can’t resist teasing our security guard since an older woman on the second floor flirts with him shamelessly. It wouldn’t be as funny if she weren’t pushing ninety. I never knew women that age could still be hoochie mamas.
I introduce Ryland to them, and Chad steps around the desk where he was chatting with Mr. Charlie and walks with us to the elevators. I had already asked him if he’d be willing to accompany us up to my apartment in case I chose to show it to Ryland.
Chad waits in the hallway while I show Ryland around. After a quick peek in the spare bathroom, I lead him to the spare bedroom.
“Obviously, I still have a few more things to move out of here since it’s been used as storage more than an actual bedroom. But no worries, it’ll be cleaned out and ready to roll.” I gesture to a few small boxes I’ve yet to toss out—mainly mementos of my relationship with Shane—one, in particular, is a box of photographs of Shane and me from over the years. I’ve been putting off getting rid of it, which is dumb because it’s over and I know it. But those photos of us—especially the ones from early in our relationship—show us so happy and in love. It’s painful to think about throwing those away.
“Looks good.” Ryland’s deep voice behind me sends shivers down my spine.
“Well”—I turn, facing him—“that’s it.” I reach out a hand. “It was great meeting you, Ryland. I’ll definitely be in touch.”
When he slides his hand in mine, grasping it firmly but not too tight, I feel tingles. “Call me Ry,” he offers with a soft smile.
“Ry,” I repeat and inwardly wince when it comes out sounding a bit breathless. “It was great to meet you.”
“Likewise, Maggie.”
He turns to leave, exchanging a quick good-bye with Chad at the door before I quietly lock up behind them. Leaning my back against the door, I let my eyes fall closed.
God just gave me an olive branch of sorts. A way to ease my financial situation a bit and eliminate any possibility of being tempted by a guy—just like I’d planned. No fear of getting involved with my male roommate because he’s not into women. I should be relieved.
I am relieved.
Maybe if I keep repeating that, I’ll start believing it.
Chapter Two
Ry
“You what?”
Jack stares at me as we sit on his couch—the same couch doubling as my bed lately. Ever since Heath and Elle got hitched, that is.
I’ve had some trouble finding a place I’m interested in renting and don’t want to buy anything at this stage. Not to mention, I like having someone to come home to. It’s a hell of a lot less lonely that way. And Maggie’s place is a top-notch, prime location with the biggest draw, of course, being Maggie herself.
“I told her I was gay.” I take a swig of my beer and wait for a beat before I drop the real bomb. He just shakes his head at me, mumbling something under his breath that sounds an awful lot like, “Jackass,” before he tips his beer bottle to his lips.
“And I told her you were my boyfriend.”
Beer sprays everywhere. Droplets spatter the fancy glass coffee table. Jack lets out a curse and grabs his huge, manly remote control that has more buttons than either one of us knows how to work, wiping it with the bottom of his shirt. Because in a man’s world—especially in Jack’s world—a television remote is sacred. God forbid it be harmed in any way.
Rolling my eyes, I rise from the couch to grab some paper towels and glass cleaner for the cleanup. Walking into the kitchen, he calls out.
“You told a chick I was your fucking boyfriend? Who the hell’s going to believe that shit?”
Returning to the living room, I wipe the mess up off the table. Jack’s still sitting, staring at me as if I’m crazy.
I shrug. “She believed me, so obviously I’m convincing enough.”
The weight of his gaze is heavy, and I know what’s coming. Slumping back onto the couch, I meet his eyes with a tired sigh. “What?”
“You lied to a chick just to get her to rent the room to you. Because you …” He trails off expectantly.
Looking down at my lap, I mumble, “Because she’s it.”
“Excuse me? She’s what?”
Rolling my eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh, I glare at him. “Because she’s ‘the one,’ man. I can’t explain it. I just know it, and no way in hell could I let her slip through my fingers.”
I had spotted Maggie in the Starbucks around the corner from my office building, but she was always with a guy whom I assumed to be her fiancé. And something about her captivated me. I’d had one of those moments I’d always scoffed at. The moments you see portrayed in chick flicks all the time when one character sees another and instantly feels a connection.
Except it actually happened to me. The moment I saw Maggie, watched her talk animatedly and felt the warmth of her smile—even though I wasn’t on the receiving end of the it—each time I saw her in the coffee shop, I felt it. That connection. I’d try to ensure that my stops for coffee would coincide with the times she’d be there just so I’d get to see her, to hear her captivating laughter, see her stunning smile, to imagine what it must be like to have her focused on me.
The more I saw her and watched her interactions, the stronger my yearnings were to be the one to make her laugh, the one to cause her lips to form that beautiful smile I’d come to know. Vivid images flickered through my mind of us hanging out at home on a lazy Saturday, watching eighties movies …
Shit. Yeah, right. No woman in their right mind would want to stick around the house instead of getting all dressed up and going bar hopping downtown.
Regardless, whenever I would see her, I couldn’t ignore the feeling—like something deep inside me was yelling, “She’s the one! You’re going to marry this one!”
There was no way I could turn my back on that.
“But she doesn’t want anything to do with men, Ry. What are you going to do? Just casually bring it up one morning that you’re actually hetero?” He scoffs, shaking his head at me. “I see that going over real well.”
“I haven’t gotten that far but, this way, I can get to know her without all that shit getting in the way. The whole nervousness, the whole showing the other person your best at all times until you’re really committed and then it all comes out.”
“And you’re going to do this by being dishonest from the get-go.”
Running my hands down my face, I let out a frustrated groan. “What was my other option? To let her go, to never have an opportunity to get to know her—to never get to be her friend, at the very least—without her feeling like I have any ulterior motives—”
“Which you do.”
“—and be faced with the possibility of me being too late and another guy getting to her when she decides she’s ready to start dating again?”
“I’d like to go on record and say that you’ve been watching too many damn chick flicks.”
“Whatever.”
He’s silent for a moment, staring at me before his lips twitch, slowly forming a smirk. “So how long have we been together, love muffin?”
The breath I’ve been holding in comes out in a slow exhale. “For a while.” Holding up a finger, I add, “But we have an ‘open’ relationship.”
His eyebrows arch at that. “Why, you little player, you. Won’t commit to being monogamous, huh?” He tips his beer to his lips, takes a swig, and grins. “I bet I can convince you to be mine within a few months tops, pookie bear.”
I make a face, scoffing, “Not likely.”
He waves a hand dismissively. “You’ll be putting out before long. Mark my words.”
“You’re not right.” I laugh, shaking my head at him.
“You’re the one who’s pretending to be gay.”
“Point taken.”
We both take a swig of beer and fall silent for a moment before Jack finally speaks.
“Can’t say that I’ve ever pretended to be someone’s gay lover before.” His face stretches into a wide, toothy grin.
And, just like that, my best friend is officially involved in my game plan. All for the sake of a woman I’m convinced is “the one.”
Chapter Three
Maggie
It’s move-in day for Ry. And it’s confirmed—he’s still as handsome as when we first met at Starbucks.
What I didn’t expect was just how handsome Ry’s boyfriend would be. Sarah wanted to be here to meet Ry, and I have to nudge her out of her trance when Ry introduces Jack.
“Hi, Jack. It’s great to meet you.” I reach out a hand to shake, but he opens his arms wide, a mischievous grin on his face, blue eyes dancing merrily.
“I come from a family of huggers, Maggie. Now, get over here, you beautiful blossom.”
He gives me no warning, just tugs me into his embrace, and I’m folded against what appears to be well over six feet of rock-solid man. He smells delicious, which doesn’t surprise me in the least. His dark hair is as perfect as everything else about his outward appearance. Once he releases me, his eyes take on an odd look as he appears to inspect Sarah, petite with straight blond hair and blue eyes. She’s pretty much every guys’ wet dream come true—typical hot blonde. If she weren’t my best friend, I’d feel compelled to dislike her because of that alone.
“Now, who is this gorgeous being? Get over here and give Uncle Jack a hug.”
“Oof!” That’s all Sarah can respond when he pulls her to him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that he hugged her for longer than is appropriate, but hey, I’m not exactly fluent in the whole protocol for gay men’s hugs or whatnot.
“Break it up, you two,” Ry warns, a sharpness in his eyes. Ooh, jealousy.
Sarah steps away, and Jack’s arms drop from around her, clasping his hands together. “Well, let’s get my love muffin moved in, shall we?” Turning, he picks up the large box he’d set down in the entryway, his muscles flexing in his short-sleeved shirt, and follows Ry’s path leading to the bedroom.
“Holy shit,” Sarah breathes out. Both of us stand rooted in the same spot, staring down the empty hallway.
“Yeah,” I whisper back. “So unfair that they’re gay, right? What a waste of two incredibly hot guys.”
Her head whips around, staring at me with an odd look.
“What?” I hiss.
Her lips part and she tips her head to the side, studying me intently before whispering, “If he weren’t gay, would you go for Ry?”
Furrowing my brows, I don’t answer immediately. Just when I’m about to respond, the guys come down the hall.
“We only have a few more boxes to go, ladies, and then we’ll have pookie bear all moved in.” Jack winks at us before getting an affectionate shove in the shoulder from Ry. These two are just too cute together.
After they exit the apartment, I lean against the wall, pondering Sarah’s question.
Wondering how my silent answer could be so immediate over a man I’d only recently met.
Yes.
* * *
“So there he was, standing on the sidewalk outside my place with a raincoat on the ground, stereo blaring Peter Gabriel’s ‘In Your Eyes,’ begging me to go on a date with him.”
We’re all sitting around eating takeout sushi, and Jack’s been entertaining us with stories about him and Ry and their early years of dating.
“Funny how I don’t quite recall that happening.” Ry flashes Jack a sharp look.
Jack waves him off with an easy smile, focusing back on Sarah and me. “He likes to pretend he’s this gruff alpha male when, in reality, he’s this sweet, soft”—he reaches a hand to the side of Ry’s face and lays it across his cheek—“marshmallow.”
“That’s really sweet.” My eyes dart back and forth between the two men before resting on Ry. “And the fact that you used a part from the movie Say Anything is a huge plus in my book.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Jack remarks with a wispy sigh. “Ry’s so romantic.”
Ry rolls his eyes before clearing his throat, gesturing back and forth between Sarah and me with his chopsticks. “How did you two become friends?”
Sarah and I look at one another, instantly giggling, before she turns back to Ry. “We met on an online dating website.”
The two men glance at one another curiously before fixing their attention on us. I go on to explain the story.
“This was probably, what?” I look at her in question. “Over six years ago now, I think.” She nods, and I turn back to explain to the guys. “So I made a profile online for shits and giggles at the time, not thinking I’d get anything out of it. Then one day, I get a message.” My smile stretches across my face at the memory. “From a fifty-seven-year-old woman in Connecticut.”
Sarah takes over this part. “My Aunt Sharon had a profile because she’d decided to start dating again after her divorce, and she let me log onto her profile when I was visiting her. I had just moved back here to Saratoga after being away at college and pretty much all of my friends had relocated far away. So I searched women in my age range, out of curiosity, in the area. And I found Maggie. So I emailed her.”
I laugh. “She wrote, ‘Hey! I’m Sarah, and I’m using my aunt’s profile on here. I recently moved back to the area, and I am looking for friends. Don’t worry—I like boys, too. Promise!’”
We laugh before Sarah chimes back in. “We exchanged a few emails and decided to meet up at the coffee shop down the road a few weeks later. And the re
st, as they say, is history. We’ve been best friends ever since.”
“That’s a pretty cool story,” Jack remarks. “Like you two were destined to become friends.”
“Exactly.”
Letting out a long sigh, he pats his stomach. “I’m stuffed. Thanks, ladies, for being such incredible dinner companions. Unfortunately, I have to head home.” Turning to Ry, he winks. “Walk me out, love bug?”
“Certainly.” Ry’s words are flat, and I get the feeling that he’s not comfortable with us witnessing him and Jack being affectionate in any way. I hope that will ease soon because I want him to feel comfortable in his own place.
The two men toss their empty sushi takeout containers and chopsticks in the trash before placing their water glasses in the dishwasher. This alone makes me even more of a fan.
We exchange good-byes with Jack, of course, who hugs us before he walks to the door with Ry. I hear them talking softly and turn to place my leftover sushi in the refrigerator, tossing my chopsticks in the trash.
Sarah places her glass in the dishwasher before leaning close and whispering, “I think I’m in love.”
Darting a surprised glance at her, I tip my head to the side. “With?”
“Jack,” she says with a sigh.
I make a face. “I hear you. They’re just too handsome for their own good, right?” Too bad they’re not straight.
Feeling the weight of her eyes on me as I wipe the counter, I turn, noticing her looking at me with a thoughtful expression. “What?”
She merely offers me a smile, and I feel like I’m missing something. “I’m just—”
“Ladies,” Ry interrupts, approaching us, “what can I help with?”
“Nothing at all, thanks.” I hang the wrung-out dishcloth over the sink. “All done. Which means”—I wrinkle my nose—“I have to go and check my Outlook calendar to see if my boss has added any surprise meetings or tasks to it.”
“Sounds like you could use a glass of wine while you do that,” Ry offers, pulling one hand from behind his back and holding a bottle of wine out to me. “This is a sort of reverse housewarming gift, if you will. A thank-you.”