"Nice." Steph snorts. "Babe, I know nice. That was not nice. That was possessive, protective, alpha-male, 'touch her again and I'll break your arm' energy."
"You're reading too much into it."
"And you're in denial." She nudges me with her elbow. "Come on. Spill. What's it like living with him?"
"Fine."
"Fine," she echoes, not buying it. "You're telling me you live with a guy who looks like that, and it's just fine?"
I exhale, setting the rag down. "It's complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"I have rules."
Her eyes light up. "Rules. Of course, you have rules. This is going to be good. What kind of rules?"
"House rules. To keep things professional and avoid... complications."
"Complications," Steph repeats. "Like falling for your ridiculously hot roommate?"
"Yes," I admit, my voice smaller than I'd like.
"How many rules?"
"Ten."
She blinks. "Ten."
"With footnotes."
"Of course, there are footnotes." She's grinning now, full-on delighted. "Let me guess. No flirting?"
"It's a very smart rule to have with two heterosexuals occupying one residence."
Steph throws her head back and laughs. "Oh, honey. You're screwed."
"I'm not screwed. I'm being responsible, and I can't afford to mess this up. I need the rent money, and if things get weird—"
"Things are already weird," Steph interrupts. "You're living with a man who looks at you like you hung the moon, and you're pretending there's nothing there."
"He doesn't look at me like that."
"Ainsley." Steph's voice goes serious. "I watched him tonight. The man couldn't take his eyes off you. And when that assholegrabbed you? He was out of his seat before Kevin even registered what was happening."
My chest does something complicated. "That means nothing."
"It means everything." She leans in, voice dropping. "Look, I get it. You got burned. Your ex-best friend screwed you over, and you're scared. But that man is into you. Like, really into you. And unless I'm misreading things, you're into him too."
I open my mouth to deny it, but the words stick in my throat.
Because she's right.
I am into him. I've been into him since he showed up on my doorstep looking like every fantasy I didn't know I had. And this morning in the kitchen, when he stood there in his T-shirt and jeans, all calm and steady while I freaked out about rules, I wanted to climb him like a tree.
"Drop the rules," Steph says. "Or at least bend them a little. Life's too short to hide behind footnotes."
I look at her. And play over how all night I witnessed her gaze drifting to Kevin at the other end of the bar. At the softness in her expression when she thought no one was watching.
