Blue Balls

by RC Boldt

  Flattening my palms against the small table as we sit across from one another in Starbucks, I let out a slow exhale. Because it has to be said.

  “I have to be honest with you, Ryland. You have great references.” I gesture to his résumé and list of references, both work and personal, he submitted to me when he’d contacted me about the room for rent a few days ago.

  After printing off a sheet with some key information about the room for rent as well as photos of the spare bedroom, I’d posted it on the corkboard located in the lobbies of a few of the large, well-known office buildings—both mine and a few others I was familiar with nearby. I had hoped that would decrease my chances of ending up with some college kid who would end up being a slob and skip out on rent. I had a few decent applicants, but Ryland James had stuck out amidst the others.

  He’s not only educated but also quite successful, as was clear from both his résumé and company’s website. He’d explained he had been renting a room, but the guy had recently gotten married, and he didn’t want to cramp the newlyweds’ style, so he’d been temporarily staying with another friend. Ryland wasn’t interested in buying anything—house or condo—at this point as he wasn’t entirely sure his job would keep him local and didn’t want the hassle of trying to sell a property or rent it out if he relocated.

  Everything had checked out with him. Everything. He seemed like he had his act together. And his photo from the Eastern Sports company website didn’t disappoint. Which was why I had been planning to nix him altogether. He was exactly what I didn’t need right now. So why am I here, meeting with him face to face?

  Sarah. She’d coerced me to meet with him. She went over each applicant’s information with me, and she kept coming back to Ryland’s. She’d hassled me about giving him a shot.

  Inhaling deeply, I continue, “But I have to be honest with you. I’ve recently broken up with my dirtbag fiancé”—I break off with what I hope is a lighthearted laugh, but I swear it comes out sounding strained and a touch maniacal—“and I’m not interested in having a roommate who’s a guy and—”

  “I’m gay.”

  I jerk, startled by his interrupting admission. And if I didn’t know better, I’d swear I detected a little hint of surprise in his eyes.

  My eyebrows arch. “Really?” Shoot. That’s rude because even I hear the tinge of disbelieving doubt in my voice.

  “Yes.” He nods, clasping his hands together and leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table. “Jack and I have been together for years now.” One of his hands reaches up to tug on his earlobe. “We still have a bit of an”—he pauses, lips pressing thin as though he’s trying to word it correctly—“open relationship, and I feel it’s best … to have a separate place and not be continuously underfoot.”

  Huhhhhh. I’m still processing this information when he continues.

  “So”—he flashes a smile that makes my insides all gooey—“you wouldn’t have anything to worry about with me.”

  “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.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book was so much fun to write and none of it would have been possible without a team of people helping me each step of the way.

  My readers! The fact that I actually have readers is just … incredible!! T
hank you for choosing to read these books. Without your support, your sweet emails and reviews, and you sharing my books with others, none of this would be possible. I am forever grateful.

  My husband and my daughter, thanks for being freaking awesome beyond words.

  My parents, for their continued support. And for my mother who has no qualms about telling others to read my books—even the ones with “questionable” titles. Also, FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING THAT’S HOLY, just admit that I’m your favorite child, already. Geez.

  Sarah, my Australian BFF. There’s no way I could have made it this far without you or our WhatsApp texting, voice messages or phone dates. #LYLT

  Amber G., I adore you and your gracious generosity! I’m so incredibly grateful for all of your help!!

  Boldt’s Beach Babes—you guys are the most stellar individuals! I am beyond grateful for your support, excitement, and feedback when I share my ideas with you. I’m clearly biased but I think I have the best readers group!! Love you all!!

  All the book bloggers out there who have been so wonderful to me! I could never manage to truly show my gratitude for all of your support. Please know that the time you take to read and review my books and/or do promo posts is appreciated beyond words.

  My beta readers who spent their own time to comb through my book and help me refine it! You all are freaking stellar and I’m so grateful for your help!!

  Leddy, Steph, Brandi, Jen, and Hazel—You have been such an incredible help and I’m so grateful to you ladies! I freaking love the hell out of you!!!

  To wine and coffee (don’t judge me, people) for being there when I’m under duress because of deadlines. Without you both, this book wouldn’t be possible.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  RC Boldt is the wife of Mr. Boldt, a retired Navy Chief, mother of Little Miss Boldt, and former teacher of many students. She currently lives on the southeastern coast of North Carolina, enjoys long walks on the beach, running, reading, people watching, and singing karaoke. If you’re in the mood for some killer homemade mojitos, can’t recall the lyrics to a particular 80’s song, or just need to hang around a nonconformist who will do almost anything for a laugh, she’s your girl.

  RC loves hearing from her readers at rcboldtbooks@gmail.com. You can also check out her website at www.rcboldtbooks.com or her Facebook page for the latest updates on upcoming book releases.