The smile he gives me is full of something I can’t read. Tenderness, fondness… maybe even pride. “They all see the same thing I do, that you’re great at this job and you’re a phenomenal person.” Our eyes lock, and a stab of longing pierces my gut so strongly I almost jump. Sam clears his throat uncomfortably and then lowers his voice, so I need to watch his mouth carefully to understand him. I can’t stop looking at his mouth and remembering what it feels like against my skin, and my mouth goes suddenly dry.
“So, um… I want to make sure you’re okay with us being there together. After Friday, I mean. I don’t want you to feel… obligated… or anything.” We’ve both shifted forward in our chairs, and his face is so close to mine his breath ghosts across my cheek. His eyes have darkened, his pupils blown out, making him look sexy as fuck.
“Oh! No, that’s… It’s no problem,” I stutter, feeling about as smooth as a cactus in a silk robe. “I’m—I know it’s not—” I force myself to stop and take a breath. “Thanks for saying that, but I know it won’t be an issue. We’re both adults, right? We didn’t really plan for what happened on Friday. I mean, things happen, right?”
He nods. “Yeah, okay. Well, um, if anything changes and you don’t feel comfortable, you can let me or Mason know. I mean, I haven’t told him about what happened, but you can… if you want. But…” Now it’s Sam’s turn to stumble over his words, and I laugh. For some reason, his nervousness gives me confidence it will work out somehow.
“Don’t worry, Sam. It’s okay. It will be fine.”
“Okay. Okay…” he says, giving me a cautious look like he wants to double-check I am, in fact, fine with the situation. “Right, then. Um. Okay, I’ll just get out of your way, then.”
He gives me a slightly awkward wave before rushing out of my cubicle, and I’m left wondering if I’m having a similar effect on him as he’s having on me.
And now we’re going to be roommates for months at some isolated seaside resort? Motherfucker.
CHAPTER 10
TYLER
The next two weeks fly by. I make all the arrangements I need to, giving notice on my apartment and canceling all the services like internet and utilities. Even though I’ve been delaying, I feel good knowing I’ll be getting out of this crappy apartment in the even crappier neighborhood. With my raise and the money I’ll save while I don’t have to pay rent, I’ll be able to afford a way better place. Fuck, maybe I’ll even be able to find something where I don’t have to haul my fucking laundry down five flights of stairs—maybe even something with a functioning dryer. I’ll be living like a king, I snicker to myself as I grab my still-damp clothes from the various random places I hung them in the hopes they might dry before Sam comes to get me.
When he offered to drive us both out to Ocean Shores, I figured it was a good idea, especially since Mason let me store my car at his place. What I hadn’t thought about until last night was that if Sam picked me up, he was going to see where I live. It’s not exactly a desirable neighborhood. It’s alarmingly close to what’s basically an open-air drug market a few blocks away, and the rest of the street is lined with pawn shops, bail bondsmen, and gun stores. Not exactly the kind of place they’re putting on tourist brochures, but I grew up not far from here, and even though it’s a tough neighborhood, it’s familiar. I’m self-conscious about it though, especially with someone like Sam, who grew up in a comfortable, middle-class home. Combine that with my anxiety around the new job and nerves about having Sam as a roommate, and I didn’t sleep much last night. That, of course, only makes things worse since not sleeping well can bring on my nightmares, and if there is one thing I don’t want Sam to see, it’s one of my nightmares.
I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t muster up the courage to ask about the specific setup of our temporary home. Will we have our own rooms, or are we sharing? What about the kitchen and living area situation? If we’re sharing a room, what happens when he wants to stay up late and I need to stick to my early bedtime routine? I don’t want to force anyone to live on my hours. The thought of explaining why I was so concerned about these details was too much, so instead, I just stewed silently. Definitely the most responsible choice.Fuck. My. Life.
When Sam texts he’s out front, I take one last look around the dumpy little place and walk out without regret. The building manager is going to get rid of the little furniture I had, and I rented a small storage locker for the few things I want to keep. The rest of my stuff is packed up to come with me, and it all fits into a smallish duffel bag, a small suitcase, and my toolbox. I’m not sure whether having this tiny number of possessions is something to be proud of or ashamed of.
My biggest worry is that I’m going to embarrass the fuck out of myself by having a nightmare in front of Sam. There have been times, when the nightmares have been particularly bad, that I’ve wet the bed and/or puked all over the place. The thought of having that happen in front of a coworker, and even worse, someone I’m attracted to, is enough to make me reconsider taking the job in the first place.
I get downstairs with my stuff to find Sam waiting by the open tailgate of the truck. He has everything neatly packed and covered with a tarp to protect it from the rain that will almost certainly be falling today, being winter in the PNW.
“Anything else need to come down?” he asks after we’ve packed my things.
“Nope,” I reply.
“Really? You’re not bringing much. You know we’re gonna be there for a few months, right?” He bumps his shoulder against mine to show he’s teasing, and I force a smile.
“Nah, I travel light. Military habits die hard, I guess.”
“Okay, then.” He grins, slamming the tailgate shut. “Alright. First order of business: snacks.”
“What, why? It’s only a couple of hours, isn’t it?” I ask while sliding into the passenger seat.
Sam looks at me, his eyes wide with shock. “Dude, come on! If you don’t pack road trip snacks like an unsupervised kid with $100 in a gas station, you’re doing it wrong.”
I roll my eyes and chuckle. Sam really is such a dad at heart.
So we stop for gas and snacks before getting on the Interstate, and true to his word, Sam loads up with candy as if he’s that unsupervised kid he was talking about.
Once we’ve been driving for a while, the silence starts to feel uncomfortable. We haven’t spoken about our hookup the night of the storm, and I don’t know how to bring it up. Honestly, I don’t know how to feel about it, but I do know a large part of me really wants it to happen again. We can’t though. I know we can’t. Hooking up with a coworker is never a good plan, and I don’t do relationships anyway. I’m way too fucked-up to ask another person to take on my shit.
We get to Olympia area around lunchtime, and Sam reaches over and squeezes my knee to get my attention. I startle as the warmth of his hand causes little zings of electricity to travel up my thighs right to my balls.God, this man.No one has ever affected me physically like the way Sam does.
“Hey, do you want to stop and grab lunch somewhere?” he asks.
“Yeah, I could eat,” I say.
We stop at a little dive bar, and the waitress gives us a nod with her chin to seat ourselves, so we settle into a booth. When she comes to the table, I order a Coke, and Sam orders a beer. He seems nervous and jumpy, same as me, and after a few miserable attempts at small talk, we just sit there, marinating in awkward sauce.
