by Lake, C. J.
When he played pool, Matt always preferred this specific table in the far corner. He claimed he didn’t believe in luck, yet what else could you call it? Either way, he was kicking Pellican’s ass at the game, as usual, and causing that tell-tale twitch in his opponent’s beefy shoulder. The two guys were practically opposites as it was. While Matt was tall, dark-haired, and quietly sensible, Pellican was stocky with a ruddy Irish complexion, auburn bristles on his head and a more combative personality.
While the waitress was setting down another bottle of beer for Tragan and clearing the onion rings basket, Bardo was on his feet, finishing his animated recap of how “Andy Delphin” was actually a girl.
As Matt lined up his next shot, Pellican leaned on his pool cue. “So, Tray, what did you say to her?” he asked.
Bardo answered for him. “Nothing, bro. You should’ve seen it. He just stood there--slack-jawed--staring at her. It was almost getting awkward. So I jumped in to smooth it over,” he finished, sounding pretty pleased with himself.
Tragan blew it off. “Whatever, Bardo. I was not slack-jawed.”
“On a side note,” Bardo added, dropping back into the booth, “I thought she was cute. Didn’t you, Tray?”
Begrudgingly, Tragan said, “Yeah, fine, I guess,” as his mind recalled the petite, honey-colored blond standing in his apartment. Thick hair that fell past her shoulders, big blue eyes and a strip of perfect white teeth--which she’d exposed when she’d smiled casually at him and he’d just stood there, blinking stupidly back.
Now he straightened up in his seat and continued, “Look, there are a lot of girls who are cute--doesn’t mean I want them living with me.”
“True speech,” Pellican agreed gruffly, then stabbed the floor with his cue when Matt made another shot.
“What’s the big deal?” Bardo asked.
“C’mon, man. I don’t want to live with some chick,” Tragan grumbled. “I can just see it now. ‘Get your feet off the coffee table, don’t chew with your mouth open, piss with the door closed.’ Uch.” He shook his head at the thought of an etiquette monitor invading his home.
Matt chuckled quietly, while Bardo went into trouble-shooting mode. “All right, I’ll solve that for you now,” Bardo said and began enumerating with his fingers. “Remind her that the coffee table is yours. Don’t share a meal with her. Piss when she’s not home.” He tipped his head, still considering the third one. “Well, if you really can’t hold it, then, yeah, close the door.”
Bardo tore a careless bite of his sandwich off before informing the group, “Now that I’m part of Corporate-America--” Pellican rolled his eyes and Matt managed a brief wry look. Prior to landing his new job at the New England Furniture Company, Bardo had worked at the Sam Adams warehouse with Pellican. Now he continued to educate his blue collar friends. “I’ve learned exactly what constitutes sexual harassment. And exposing yourself, even just to go to the bathroom, would count.”
Impatiently Tragan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks. I wasn’t planning on exposing myself. Jesus.” Matt chuckled again, more audibly this time and Bardo shrugged innocently. Meanwhile Tragan shook his head and declared, “Whatever, I’m calling Ethan.”
“In England?” Pellican said.
“Yes. This is bullshit.”
“What are you gonna say?”
“I don’t know,” Tragan admitted.
“Damn,” Matt muttered when he missed his shot.
“Finally!” Pellican exclaimed and shoved his way forward as Matt moved back.
Now that his turn was done, Matt was able to address the issue at hand. “Man, just forget it. It’s done. She’s already there. It’s only a few months, right?”
“That’s not the point,” Tragan argued--even though inwardly he knew Matt was being the voice of reason, as he usually was. “The point is, Ethan tricked me.”
Matt shrugged. “BFD. It’s only a few months,” he repeated.
“Yeah,” Bardo piped up. “And besides, maybe this is a sign. Maybe your life could use a ‘woman’s touch,’” he joked.
Hunched over the pool table with his cue poorly lining up, Pellican snorted at that. “Or maybe something could use a woman’s touch,” he threw in with a brusque laugh.
“Shut-up,” Tragan said to his friends, who proceeded to cackle at his expense.
Chapter Four
“Hey, man.”
“Uh, hey…” Ethan said, sounding cautious or maybe confused. “It’s one in the morning here, by the way.”
“So you didn’t tell me that ‘Andy’ was a chick,” Tragan stated bluntly as he walked from the T stop toward Grove Street.
Impressively, Ethan found the balls to stand his ground. “You indicated that you didn’t want to know anything about your new roommate.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, more or less,” Ethan insisted. “If you recall, I tried--”
“Bullshit, you could’ve told me.”
“Well, what’s the difference anyway? Andy’s easy-going, and I’m sure she’ll be too busy to bother you. It’s not like she’s going to redecorate.”
“How do you know?” Tragan retorted. “How do you know her anyway?” As someone who didn’t really have female friends, he was suddenly curious about the nature of Andy’s relationship with Ethan. Had they been an item? Not that it mattered, though it would raise Ethan’s stock considerably.
“We went to school together and our parents are friends. I’ve known her practically since we were kids,” Ethan said. Okay, so never dated. Hmm, it was hard for Tragan to picture being purely platonic friends with a girl, at least one as attractive as Andy. Then again, he’d only gotten a quick glimpse of her during their awkward introduction earlier.
“If she’s your friend, how come I never met her?” Tragan said. He was sure she’d never been to the apartment before, at least not when he was there.
“You’ve never met any of my friends,” Ethan pointed out.
“Oh, right. I guess that’s true.”
As Tragan rounded the corner and walked toward his apartment building, a cold wind blew across the trees that lined the street, and light, icy drops began to hit his forehead. Here, in this quiet little neighborhood, the lights of Boston and bustle of Brookline seemed to fall into the distance.
Through the phone--across the Atlantic Ocean--Tragan heard Ethan heave a tired sigh. “Look, she’s not bothering you, is she?”
“No. Nothing like that,” Tragan admitted, because he didn’t want to be a complete dick here. Granted he’d met her for only two minutes, but she seemed friendly enough. “I was just surprised. I’ve never lived with a girl,” he added as an afterthought…though when he voiced it he realized that was the real issue.
“Trust me, she’s not annoying. But there is one thing I should tell you, now that you’re actually interested in hearing what I have to say.”
Whoa, England was giving Ethan all sorts of backbone right now. “What?” Tragan said impatiently.
“Andy is…well, Andy’s sick.” Sick? “It’s not contagious or anything,” Ethan hurried to add. “It’s just she’s got something called Bronsteg Disorder. It’s an autoimmune thing. She got diagnosed with it a couple of years ago and had to leave school for a while.”
“Oh, man…” Tragan muttered to himself, totally caught off guard. “She seemed fine,” he added stupidly.
“She is a lot of the time,” Ethan said. “But sometimes she gets these bouts of fatigue. Headaches, dizzy spells. It has something to do with her blood pressure. To be honest, it’s a rare condition and I don’t think they know much about it.”
“Well…is it fatal?” Tragan asked uncomfortably. Goddamn, this was all too heavy for him.
“I don’t think so,” Ethan replied. “It’s just…something she manages.”
“She didn’t say anything about it,” Tragan refuted. Which was absolutely ridiculous since he’d hardly given her a chance to say anything; he’d been too busy standing there,
saying nothing, making her want to leave his unwelcoming presence and return to her room. Maybe she would have said something if he’d actually shown he was capable of engaging in a conversation.
“Andy’s not one to play her situation for sympathy,” Ethan remarked. “If anything, she would rather not to talk about it--so maybe don’t tell her that I told you, okay? In fact, the only reason I am telling you this is because I don’t want you to force her out of the apartment.”
Tragan scrunched his forehead at that. “Jesus, I’m not a dick,” he said with annoyance.
Ethan didn’t address that claim. Instead he explained: “She’s participating in a drug study at St. Catherine’s Hospital right now--something that may help regulate the Bronsteg. That’s why she offered to take over the lease for me.”
“Because the hospital’s so close to our place,” Tragan thought aloud, climbing the stone steps to his building. “Makes sense.” As he shoved the heavy front door open with his shoulder, he made a snap decision to hurry Ethan off the phone. To distance himself from this whole conversation. Andy Delphin’s health wasn’t his issue--and wouldn’t be. She’d do her thing, he’d do his. A simple, straightforward roommate situation.
Obviously he felt sorry for her now that he knew all this, but he didn’t want to get sucked into the details, because it was her business. Like Ethan said, maybe Andy didn’t want people getting all concerned. Maybe she just wanted to be treated like everyone else.
And possibly--hell, most likely--the idea that Tragan could be expected to have any responsibility or obligation here made him uncomfortable. Which was why he hung up with Ethan after a few more words, and pushed his ex-roommate’s concerned, self-righteous tone right out of his mind. Tragan’s life was simple and that was how he liked it. So it was good that he and Andy weren’t going to be in each other’s way.
Chapter Five
As soon as he stepped into the apartment, Tragan was hit with an insanely enticing aroma. Better than a wood-burning stove or fresh coffee, this was a scent that had never filled 3B as long as he’d lived there: home-cooking.
Lights shone from the kitchen straight ahead, at the back of the apartment, and also from Andy’s open bedroom door.
Instinctively, he sniffed the air as he walked toward the light. He knew he had to clear the air with his new roommate, if only to erase the weirdness of their initial meeting. Like Matt had said at the Billiard Grill earlier, Andy was here now; no sense in making a thing about it. Besides, after what Ethan had told him just now…
Well, Tragan couldn’t help but feel bad for the girl if she had a medical situation--but again, he wasn’t going to dwell on that. Tragan had never been one to get into other people’s business. His mother had chastised him more than once over the years, because of his lack of interest in “human news,” as she called it. It was like she saw that as a bad thing--maybe a sign that he was too self-centered--but he just saw it as letting people have their boundaries. What was so bad about that?
Now he approached the open bedroom door. When he glanced in, he stopped short. Andy had her back to him and was bent over, unpacking a box. Words failed him for a moment as his eyes zeroed in on her behind. It was an automatic reaction. He didn’t mean to stare, but the sight of her shapely, jean-clad ass locked his gaze for a moment.
Until, abruptly, she stood up straight, snapping him out of his lusty trance. When she turned around, she jumped, startled. “Oh!” she said on a breath then pushed a few loose strands of hair away from her face. Since seeing her earlier, she had put most of her thick, honey-blond hair up into a ponytail. Seeing her face again, Tragan noted that her eyes were even bluer and prettier than he’d first noticed, and her face appeared warm--sweet.
Mentally he shook himself before he got muddled by an odd combination of feelings. On the one hand, he still wasn’t thrilled about having a female roommate. Yet, he also felt a pocket of compassion for her. Now add to that: an undeniable stirring of physical attraction.
See, this was why girls made living situations too damn complicated, he thought, but forced an easy smile anyway, as he leaned on the door jamb. “Hey,” he said. “How’s the unpacking going?”
“Good,” she replied. “I’m almost done.”
As she said that, he eyed her room. It was the smaller of the two rooms and at the moment, seemed particularly overcrowded. Piles of books were stacked all over the floor. Hardcover books, paperbacks, all different sizes, were layered on top of each other, making a collection of shaky-looking towers that stretched from the floor to the window sill. “Just got a few more cases of books and you’ll be all set?” he asked, giving her a sardonic grin.
Following Tragan’s gaze, Andy laughed. “Yeah, pretty much. I guess I would be called a ‘book junkie’ in some circles.” Then she tilted her head. “Or ‘book hoarder’--if you want to be all judgy about it.”
His grin deepened. “Never,” he said, holding up his hands. “Do your thing.”
When Andy giggled, the sound relaxed him a little. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. For all he knew, Ethan had been exaggerating about her condition anyway. She sure didn’t look sick. “Where were you living before this?” Tragan asked out of curiosity.
“My mom’s house in Chestnut Hill,” Andy said, stepping a few feet closer to him, still carrying some books under her arm. “I finished school in December, and after that moved in with my mom for a while, but…” Her voice trailed off as she restlessly bit her lower lip. Ripe, pretty lips...
“Where did you go to school?” Tragan said, keeping his tone casual.
“University of Chicago.”
“But you’re originally from around here?” he asked--then caught himself. Why was he even asking these questions? Who cared?
Yet, as Andy answered, she continued to step closer to him, and the closer she got, the more aware his body became of her. On some level it made him want to keep the conversation going. He supposed it was only to be expected with a very attractive female in his apartment. He was a guy; he couldn’t exactly help being aware of her.
At the same time, he wasn’t a clueless animal. If he and Andy were going to be roommates, he’d just have to push aside his awareness of her physical appeal and see her platonically. How else would they be able to live together for five months without any drama?
Besides that, he had his pride. He wasn’t about to make a play for a girl who might not be interested in him at all, and then have to face her everyday in the living room. No, thanks.
Now he realized she was talking. “Actually, I have a huge bookcase at home,” she was explaining, “but I knew it wouldn’t fit here. So I just brought along some of my favorites.”
“I see,” Tragan said, nodding slowly, eying her collection again. “Just your favorite four hundred, huh?”
With a giggle, she said, “Yeah, now you see.”
Come to think of it, Ethan had never mentioned what she did for a living. “Are you an English teacher or something?” Tragan asked.
“No. I was an English major, though.” Then Andy paused, as a sigh seemed to escape. “I don’t know what I am right now,” she finished lightheartedly, but with a reluctant-looking smile.
Tragan pushed off the door jamb, standing up straight. Technically they’d broken the ice now. There was no reason to continue, but nevertheless he said: “Listen, I’m sorry I was so shell-shocked before. To be honest, I didn’t know you’d be a girl. I was surprised, that’s all.”
Andy’s blue eyes widened and her mouth curved open. “Ohh...” Blinking at him, she bit her lower lip again. “Really? I’m sorry. I just assumed Ethan told you.”
Quickly, Tragan shook his head, assuring her, “No worries, it’s not gonna be a problem.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
“I should tell you that there’s a lady on the second floor who plays the cello on the weekends--and pretty badly. So if you hear it, don’t worry, it’s not an animal being tortured.”
Andy remarked
, “That’s a relief. Thanks for the warning.”
“Sure,” he said with a half-grin. “Also, my friends hang out here a lot, but if you ever need the living room, just kick us out.”
“Oh, no, don’t worry, I won’t be in your way.”
“Of course you’re not in the way,” Tragan countered. “It’s your place, too.”
Still, Andy waved a hand through the air, as if dismissing the notion. “Really, you’ll hardly know I’m here.”
“Well…okay,” he said, a bit confused by her response. “Anyway, trash and recycling collects on Tuesdays. So just leave whatever you want me to take down by the front door.”
“I can do it myself,” she assured him with a smile.
“That’s ridiculous,” Tragan said, without explaining why. But really, it should be obvious. He was a guy, so taking out the trash was a given. This wasn’t about trying to impress her--really. This was just logical. Did he take out Ethan’s garbage? No, fine, he didn’t. But that was because Ethan was a guy, too. See? Logical.
“Also, I have a car here so if you ever need a ride and I’m around, just let me know.”
“Really?” she blurted, not even hiding her shock.
Abruptly, Tragan chuckled at her reaction. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Oh, I--uh, no reason…”
He narrowed his eyes slightly, as his mouth curved up. “You know, I’m thinking that Ethan depicted me as sort of a jerk.”
“No, no!” she insisted, her wide blue eyes just a little too eager to deny it.
“Uh-huh,” he muttered doubtfully.
“Really,” she said sweetly, but now trying to suppress a grin.
Tragan smiled at her. “Look, whatever he told you… Can we start from here? I’m a nice guy.” Why had he felt compelled to add that?