“I don’t know what they do, but I know what I heard.”
“Okay,” he chuckles. “That’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s perfect.”
“Thank you. I’ll just need to crash for six months max, buthopefully I’ll be out in three. I’d like to pay you rent. I don’t want to be your charity case.”
“I’m not accepting your money. I fucked you.”
I choke on my drink.
“No. Shit. I meant I fucked you over with the apartment.”
He takes another large sip from his glass, and I try to stifle a laugh. The slightest hint of pink colors his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
Is he really this awkward or am I making him nervous?
“Let me try again. We’re friends,” he says. “I feel bad about you getting kicked out of your apartment. Letting you stay here for free is the least I could do.”
“I appreciate that, but I want to at least pay my half of utilities and bills. Just tell me how much I owe you a month, and I’ll send you the money.”
“You know I’m, like, really rich, right?”
“No, you aren’t.”
“I’ve got a trust fund and a paycheck that says I am.” His eye shifts down to his shirt. “And I’m not telling you that to be a tool. It’s just I don’t need your money.”
He’s rich?I glance around his apartment. I mean it’s a nice place, but it doesn’t scream I have all of my daddy’s money at my fingertips.
“Well regardless, I can still pay you something.”
“That won’t be necessary.” He shakes his head.
“Tanner.” I put down my fork, looking him dead in the eye. “I know you feel bad, but I can’t let you pay for everything. It’s not right. I have a job. I’m a semi-functioning adult. I’m very appreciative of your offer, but I have to give you something.”
He takes a huge bite of food, and I can see the gears turning in his head.
“Hang out with me one night a week, and we’ll call it even.”
What the hell?
“I’m not dating you,” I say a little too quickly—and harshly.
His jaw ticks.
“No, they wouldn’t be dates. Hang out with me as my friend. Let me get to know you, and let me show you I’m not the douchebag you think I am.”
“I’ve never called you a douche?—”
“You didn’t have to.” His shoulders sag, and he tries to hide the downhearted look on his face behind another bite of his food. My whole face heats with embarrassment as guilt radiates off of me.
“I don’t think you're a douchebag. You just remind me of someone from my past.” The minute the words come out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back.
“I’m guessing he wasn’t the best guy?” he asks, totally defeated.
“No,” I say quietly. “He wasn’t.”
