"I can spike your drink if you want."

Collins' big, beautiful eyes immediately got even bigger, and I grimaced.

"That came out wrong," I rushed to say. "That came out way wrong. I meant with alcohol, not with, you know, drugs."

She smiled, more gracious than I deserved. "It's always so reassuring when a date admits they don't want to drug me."

I bit down on an embarrassed grin. "Yeah, you're welcome for that."

Picking up her glass from the dinner table, Collins raised a brow.

"So alcohol, you say? What do you got?"

I pulled out the mini flasks I had stuffed in my pocket earlier. A fancy-ass gala deserved fancy-ass drinks, and if there was anything I was good at, it was coming prepared to serve them.

"What do you want?"

___

At the moment, I was really fucking done with Wednesday.

Not the day.

The person.

Her brown eyes rolled back in her head as she tapped short, painted nails on the register.

"Just get her a chai, Beau."

I scoffed. "A chai? You're just saying that because it's the easiest drink to throw together, and you're going to be the one to make it. Get the fuck out of here with that, Nessa."

"No," she insisted. "I'm saying that because everyone likes a good chai latte. It's like comfort in a cup."

Comfort. I was anything but comfortable right now.

"This isn't about comfort. This is about presentation. And a chai says, 'I got you the easiest thing on the menu to make because I was in a hurry.' You know?"

"No. I don't know."

A giggle sounded from behind a tall chrome machine, and then I heard a low voice. A deep chuckle. Another giggle.

I wrinkled my nose.

"Is Madie here, too? Did they schedule them together again?"

Nessa made a face that I was sure looked identical to mine and glanced to the side, where the sounds were coming from. She tossed a towel off of her shoulder and then whipped it to the side. A dramatic ow sounded, which was followed by a laugh.

"Yes, and they're about to get back to work." She directed the comment at the lovebirds hiding behind the coffee machines, and I swallowed a snicker.

"Oh, please." Bren, my roommate-turned-best-friend-turned-roommate-stealer, popped out behind Nessa, giving her a knowing look as he walked over to grab a stack of cups. "You didn't see us knocking on the closet door the other night when Grayson came to visit, did you?"

"Shut up and make Beau a chai latte."

Wednesday needed to get her hearing checked.

"Bren, do not make me a chai."

Bren raised a brow, giving me an odd look that said, what gives? But then a secondary sparkle in his eye told me he had a clue. Or at least somewhat of one.

"Why are you being...weird?" he said. "You've been like this all afternoon. Don't think I haven't noticed."

"I'm not being weird."

Madie, my blonde-haired friend who was supposed to be my roommate before her boyfriend stole her away, cleared her throat. "You're being weird."

"He's trying to figure out what drink to get for Collins."

Nessa said her name like it was the only explanation needed.

"Oh." Bren shrugged. "She likes a vanilla cold brew."

Never thought I'd be jealous of Bren fucking Hadaway, considering that he was only twenty years old and had literally visited hell and back, but here went my nerves, shooting way up as I took in his casual comment. A casual comment that told me he knew Collins way better than I did. Gritting my teeth, I raked a hand through my hair.

"Oh, he is acting weird."

I was really fucking done with Wednesday.

"Well, you're the one who just randomly decided to pick up a shift on the day that our new roommate was supposed to move in, Wendy."

Hearing the snap in my voice, she narrowed her gaze.

"We've talked about the Wendy thing, Beau." She sighed. "And I didn't randomly decide to pick up a shift. Matt got food poisoning, and they needed someone to open. I'm heading out soon, but I can't leave until after the lunch rush. I'll get there as soon as I can...so you don't have to be alone with Collins."

I scoffed before mumbling. "I don't need a chaperone."

"Kinda sounded like you wanted a chaperone, but whatever."

I slapped my credit card on the table.

"Just make me a vanilla cold brew."

She beamed, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"One vanilla cold brew coming right up!"

****

My palms were sweaty again.

Even though I'd sworn that Collins could move in, internally, I wasn't convinced.

How was I supposed to act around her? Why did she want to live with me? Why did she think it wouldn't be weird to see me every day after doing...all the things we did? It was bad enough that she invaded my mind every night, and now she was going to invade my kitchen? My living room? My bedroom?

Oh god, not my bedroom. She would not be allowed in my room.

Either way, it was torture. And I'd thought about it. Over and over and over until my brain felt like it had just run a marathon, shit itself, and passed out on the side of the road.

I'd concluded that there were two possible reasons why she'd said yes.

One: she didn't give a shit about me. As in, she was indifferent. She didn't mind seeing my face every day because that night meant nothing to her. Beau Martin was so far in her past that she didn't give a single fucking shit.

God, how I wished I could feel that way about her.

Two: she was desperate. Our rent was definitely cheap for the area. And it wasn't because I was paying more than my fair share under the table like I knew Nessa suspected. It was because my parents had a connection with the landlord association, and an unnecessary discount was thrust into my lap.

If reason number one was the truth, well, then all the shit I was feeling about Collins moving in was apparently a me problem, and I just had to get over it. And if number two was the case...then I was still going to have to get over it. Because I didn't like the idea of her going out to try to find some sketchy cheap-ass apartment.

At least living with us, she would be safe.

That was the mantra I would repeat every morning.

Steeling myself, I balanced my latte and her cold brew in one hand while I slammed the door of my Range Rover and locked it up. There was a bit of leftover rain on the street from the morning showers, and I stepped over a puddle on my way to the apartment front door. My eyes skirted over a car I didn't recognize, one packed to the brim with boxes, and I nearly stopped. That must be her.

Fuck, I wasn't ready, though. And I knew better than to walk up on people while they sat in their car, so I strode straight into our place instead and then sat down the coffee on the kitchen counter so I could text her.

No more than a minute later, there was a knock on the front door.

And then...there she was.

Holy mother of god. I had been trying to convince myself that my memories of Collins were partly fabricated or exaggerated and that she wasn't a literal goddess, but now I was shitting myself. Because if anything, the pictures in my head didn't do her justice. She was too pretty; it just shouldn't be allowed. I wanted to stomp my foot and pout about it.

Dark brown eyes blinked up at me, and she tucked a curly tendril behind her ear, so it joined the hundreds of other curls on her head, which were all black with slight hints of caramel streaked through them at the bottom.

"Hi," she said, direct as ever.

Words failed me, so I stuck my hand out between us instead—a peace offering in the form of vanilla cold brew.

"Hey. Here, this is for you."

"Oh." She looked down at the drink, almost suspiciously. But she took it from me, plucking it from my hand. Carefully so our fingers wouldn't touch. "You didn't need to do that."

"Well...I was at The Grounds, and Bren said it's your favorite, so..."

Realizing I was blocking the entryway, I shuffled to the side. But she still didn't walk any further into the apartment.

"A vanilla cold press?"

I nodded, and she took a tentative sip before humming her contentment.

God, that noise.

"Yeah," I said dryly. Because my throat was dry. Like a dessert in the middle of a sand storm. I tried clearing it. "Are you coming in?"

She froze, the drink still poised by her lips as she thought over the one question that I hadn't imagined would be so hard to figure out.

"Depends."

"Depends on what?"

"I wanted to talk to you first."

Talk? She wanted to talk? I was hoping that this living arrangement would involve minimal amounts of talking so I could avoid making a fool of myself like I did that morning when she walked away. But I supposed maybe she wanted to get the big, fat elephant out of the room. And that was probably a good idea.

I sighed. "Well, you can talk to me inside. You don't need to hover in the doorway like my awkwardness is contagious."

As I hoped, she laughed a little bit. And then she stepped into the apartment. I led her through the narrow entryway and into the kitchen, which was just a few steps to the east side of the house.

"Do you want like a cup of water or maybe a beer, or I guess I have some—"

"Beau," she slid my name into my rambling calmly, "you got me a coffee."

"Oh." I sucked in a breath. "Right."

Jesus fucking christ, I was blowing it already. Being around this girl was mind-boggling. And honestly, my heart was probably beating my brain on that marathon it had been running. Sprinting so goddamn fast.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

She steeled herself. I could see it in the way she braced her shoulders and placed the coffee down on the kitchen counter. Collins was so mature in how she handled herself; it was one of the reasons that I had found it hard to be upset with her that day. And today, her eyes didn't stray from my face once. She wasn't about to beat around the bush.

"I just wanted to make sure that you're okay with this before I bring my stuff in," she said.

"Okay with what?"

"With me living here," she said flatly. Because we both knew it was obvious.

"I'm okay with it," I replied quickly. Too quickly. I wasn't okay, but I was okay with it. If that made sense.

Collins bit her lip. When she spoke again, it was slow.

"It's okay if you're not."

Nodding, I took that in. Considered how to reply. Tapped my finger on the countertop. And eventually....

"And what would you do if I say I'm not?"

There was a long pause, and then she shrugged.

"I'd figure something else out."

No, I needed to know specifics. "Like what?"

"I don't know. There were some ads—"

"No."

That wasn't specific at all, and it told me exactly what I needed to know. She didn't have another option lined up, and I wasn't leaving her to figure something else out.

"What?"

I shook my head. "No, you're not living with some randos you've never met who probably—"

"They might be completely normal people, Beau," she cut in with a roll of her eyes.

"Just no. You're not living there. Wherever there might be."

"Beau—"

"Look, you don't need to protect my feelings, Collins." I cleared my throat. If she wasn't going to beat around the bush, then I wasn't going to either. "I'm a big boy. Now, I want you to live here. If you don't, that's a different story, and you can bow out whenever you need to. No questions asked. Okay?"

She swallowed.

"Okay."

I nodded.

"Okay."

Okay.

"Is your stuff in the car?"

Collins twisted around, looking at the doorway. Then her eyes wandered around the room. It was nice—for college housing. The kitchen had modern appliances except for the refrigerator, and the island countertop was a butcher block that was charming in its own way. The living room connected to the kitchen, and it was simple. So far, it held a few couches and a TV. Decor hadn't been a priority yet.

Finally, Collins faced me.

"Yeah," she said. "It's in the car."

Deep breaths, Beau. Deep breaths.

✨

a/n:

did that go as expected?

thanks for reading!!

xoxo amelie