Caroline nodded, satisfied. She saved and closed her draft business plan. Then she went into her file list and pulled up a new spreadsheet. There were just as many columns and formulas already populated in it. “Customer Survey Results” was the title.
“Okay,” she said brightly. “So, what youactuallyneed, then, is some market analysis.”
Caroline dropped Tom off at his restaurant just after lunch, over Adrian’s strong objections.
“He can’t be late for work,” Caroline said. “There might not be enough time after unloading the car.”
“He just doesn’t want to help carry anything up,” Adrian growled.
“I’ve got it,” Caroline said, rolling her windbreaker up over her forearms and squinting judgmentally at their muscle tone. She’d been swimming and using the weight machines, but it wasn’t as intensive as her prior training regimen. Eventually she’d be softer and curvier, like her sisters were now, but she thought she was still fit to carry anything Tom could have managed. “I’m still in pretty decent shape.”
Adrian turned his head just long enough to rake his eyes down her body.
“So, you play tennis, don’t you?” he said tentatively.
“Yup,” she said.
He was waiting for the follow-up for that, but Caroline spotted an open stretch of curb at the end of his block, and she held up a hand for silence as she attempted the approach. It took a couple of tries, but as she maneuveredthe Tahoe up the curb, the other cars on his side street were reasonably patient, only honking a few times and questioning her sanity and parentage in more muted tones than usual.
She hopped out of the SUV and went around to the rear hatch. Adrian made efforts to intercept her as she grabbed the side of the writing desk and began to slide it out, but she waved him off.
“I’ve got it,” she said. “Go pick it up from the other side, if you can.”
The writing desk was a really nice piece, solid wood and well maintained. Caroline wondered where he’d bought it. She’d looked around a few secondhand stores when stocking her apartment, but the quality had been really hit-or-miss, and she’d ended up just buying stuff from IKEA to fill her bedroom before classes started.
Anyway, the desk wasn’t too heavy for her, especially with Adrian standing and holding it from the other side. They lifted it down to the curb, then closed and locked the Tahoe.
Adrian looked up at his apartment building.
“There’s no elevator,” he said. “And we’re on the third floor. If you want to just come back tonight, I’ll make Tom help instead.”
Caroline picked up one end of the desk again.
“I bet I can deadlift more than you,” she said. Adrian was built more lean than muscular, and he didn’t seem like someone with the patience for doing reps on the weight machines. She’d like to see him run though. He was probably one of those guys who did five miles without blinking, nothing but sweat and focus.
“I also bet you can,” Adrian said, looking at her thighs.
He took the backward position, and they maneuveredthe desk through the lobby of the building and up the stairs.
“You know, Boston College has tennis,” Adrian told her as he unlocked his apartment door.
“Oh, really,” Caroline deadpanned.
Inside, the apartment fit more comfortably within her experience of human habitations. Most of the walls were painted industrial off-white, except for the exposed brick of the wall containing the windows. The furniture was well-worn and not quite matching, but it all looked comfortable. The en suite kitchen counter was covered with small appliances, and books were stacked against one of the walls in neat piles.
“I doubt there’s anything official for the B-school, but there are club and intramural leagues,” Adrian told her, not catching her tone.
He picked up his end of the desk again and shuffled backward toward one of the doors at the opposite end of the living room.
“Wow. Where’s the tennis at Boston College?” Caroline drawled.
Adrian backed into what had to be his bedroom, breathing audibly from the effort. They set the desk down in the middle of the room, which was cluttered with an iron-frame daybed, more mismatched furniture, and a lot of cardboard boxes. Adrian lifted the hem of his long-sleeved T-shirt to wipe his face, revealing a pale stomach that was flatter and firmer than Caroline might have guessed.
“At the athletic center,” Adrian explained. “That’s where all the tennis courts are.”
“Mmm,” said Caroline, beginning to stack cardboard boxes to make room for the desk against the free wall of the bedroom. “How do you sign up to play tennis, then?”
Adrian rubbed the side of his neck, thinking about it. “I think they have sign-ups for the club teams outside the courts. Or there’s probably an online tool?”
