“I’m not paying the late fee, and you’re taking it off my bill. My payments are within the threshold of on time. Is there any other reason you called me today?” I hissed.
A beat of silence passed. “No, ma’am.”
“Great. Have a wonderful day,” I bit out. I hung up and rubbed my temples. The bill collectors were calling earlier and earlier every day, getting more and more aggressive. It didn’t help that most of them were based on the east coast, so they’d already had their coffee and then some by the time business hours opened for California.
I was down to $48,000 of my mom’s medical debt, plus my student loans, which wouldn’t be budging anytime soon. If I didn’t go home for Christmas, that was another $1,000 I could apply to the balance.
It would be simpler if there was only one lender, but there were three. That meant dealing with three companies and three due dates every month, all ready to pounce if you were even an hour late with payment. Once I managed to get out from under the burden, I made a vow to dedicate my spare time and money to reforming the flawed system that landed me in this mess. How was it that when someone got sick, instead of focusing on getting better, you had to fret about the impending medical bills? Then, if the worst outcome happened, you still had to pay for the attempts to save their life.
“What year is it?” Nick grumbled from the doorway, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Just wearing underwear, he looked like a damn model leaning against the doorframe. He really didn’t know just how hot he was, all that lean muscle and his messed-up morning hair and the way I knew just what that morning skin smelled like from across the room. Pure Nick.
But I couldn’t fully enjoy the spectacle in front of me, because he might have just overheard all about my money issues.
I jumped when he spoke, my hand going to my heart. “You scared me.”
“Sorry. You okay? Who was that on the phone? You sounded pissed.” Nick crossed the room and tugged me into a loose hug.
“Just a work thing,” I lied, trying to be covert about how I was sniffing him while we hugged. “You sleep okay?”
“Like a rock next to you,” he said. “You been up a while?”
“Yeah, about to start working. I’m making a smoothie, you want one?”
He gave a drowsy smile. “Sure. I was planning to get up early and take you out to breakfast. I clearly failed at that.”
I snorted, doubling the ingredients in the blender. “It’s fine. You got in so late, you deserved to snooze.”
He booped my nose. “And you deserve a breakfast date.”
I booped him back. “Breakfast is probably the worst time for us to be seen out together, bub.”
His face fell. “Right. Yeah. I keep forgetting.”
He was quiet after I ran the blender, sliding into a chair at my kitchen table. “I guess I should go after this.”
I puffed out my bottom lip, looking at him over my laptop screen. “I’ll be working, but you can stay as long as you want. I’m not rushing you out. It’s nice to see you, even if I can’t pay attention to you.”
He forced a smile, but I’d brought up the facts and not the fantasy. The fantasy was us being able to be each other’s comfort, being a friend and then some. The facts were that we couldn’t be a public item, forever bound to sneak off together, to show up late at night and leave before we’re too involved.
I was on a call when Nick finished his smoothie, scrolling his phone to pass the time. By the time I got off a half hour later, he had his bag packed and in hand.
“You leaving?”
“I should get back to Greg,” he said, rubbing his lips together. “Thanks for letting me come over, though.”
“Of course. I want to be here for you when I can, just like you’ve been here for me.”
“An even trade,” he said, flicking his eyebrows up. He chewedhis bottom lip, looking at the floor.
I stood, crossing to hold his hand that wasn’t on his suitcase handle. “I’m not keeping count, Nick. It’s part of the friends thing. I care about you. I hope you understand that.”
“Yeah, of course,” he said. “You’re really good at what you do, you know. Dev was good too, but I love hearing how you talk to people. It’s, um, nice to see you work, I guess?”
I couldn’t fight my smile, genuinely touched. “Thanks. I like seeing you work too. You’re also good at it.”
“Well, obviously,” he laughed, pretending to toss hair over his shoulder. “That mean you’ll come see me on Saturday?”
“Saturday night, I’ve got a college game to go to. But Sunday I can come.”
