“You can act all grumpy about it, but you know deep down, this was a great idea.”
“How?” I ask. “How was this a great idea?” I motion to my apartment. “If you haven’t noticed, I keep it pretty plain here. I don’t need much, just a place to read and sleep. She’s going to come here and think it’s some sort of jail cell.”
“Not with the new Egyptian cotton sheets we got for her bed.” He pats me on the shoulder and says, “And can I just say, it’s really white knight-ish of you to give her your bed since you don’t have one in her room. Sleeping on an air mattress is a real commitment and making sure she doesn’t have to suffer through that truly shows how much you like this girl.”
“I wasn’t going to make her sleep on an air mattress,” I mutter. Nope, that will be me, which should be fun given I have lower back issues from playing hockey my whole damn life.
“That being said, we should probably move the bed, right?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer. “We have about an hour to get this shit done, so put away the cold food and I’ll work on everything else, then we’ll do the beds.”
“Right, okay.” Posey peeks into the sink. “Is that too much water for Sherman?”
“No, that’s what the girl at the nursery said to do.”
“Are you sure?”
“For the love of God, Levi,” I shout. “Please just put away the fucking cold food.”
“Sheesh, okay.” He moves toward the bags and starts unloading them as I try to calm myself.
Am I stressed?
Yes.
I’m beyond stressed. Blakely will be here in an hour. I have to move my bed to her room, try to make this concrete sanctuary not look so . . . sterile, and mentally prepare myself that Blakely White willtemporarilyshare my space. My private, bland, and quiet space.And if there are two things Blakely is not, it’s bland and quiet.
“You know, you should probably iron the curtains you got for her room.”
I move past him and start placing crackers, chips, and whatever food Posey thought she might like in the pantry. “We don’t have time to iron, they’ll shake out once they’re hung.”
He’s stacking the cans of lime La Croix very carefully, making me want to scream at him. “I don’t know, it’s risky.”
“We can steam them then, but you need to fucking hurry up.”
“Dude, we need to make it look presentable. The last thing you want is for her to think you’re some careless bachelor. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” I ask. “Because I don’t see you with a girlfriend?”
“Because I haven’t pulled the trigger yet. Once I do, I’ll have my girl in the palm of my hand.”
I highly doubt it. If anyone is a hot mess on this team, it’s Levi Posey.
Together, we unpack the food and—carefully—stock the kitchen, including the whisk he made me buy, as well as the colorful cutting knives that are pink, purple, and blue. He claimed it was a nice, feminine touch that I could afford since I was brimming with masculinity. Once again, his words, not mine.
“Now, we don’t want to light the candle, but we need to place it somewhere,” Posey says, holding up the rich mahogany-scented jar. “Silas told me that sometimes it can look too desperate if you actually light the candle.” He glances around the barren living room. “Where are your coffee table books?”
“I don’t have any.”
“Then where are your actual books? I know you have them, as you read all the time.”
“They’re in my room. Why?”
“Because, Joanna Gaines likes to stack books and put a candle on top. It looks nice.”
“Who is Joanna Gaines?”
“Jesus.” Posey moves past me, bumping my shoulder, and heads toward my bedroom. He stops immediately and takes it in. “What the hell is this?”
