His hands are so warm. Like that voice of his?—
No. Bad Ian.
I don’t let myself say another word or think another thought as I carry Callum’s stuff up to the apartment. He follows right behind me the whole way, and I’m itching to get out of the frigid hallway. For how premium this building is, or claims to be, they sure don’t turn the heating on in the common areas.
“You moved the bookshelf.”
That’s the first thing he says after we step inside.
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, it’s better for privacy and whatnot. Here, I’ll show you around your new digs.”
We slip past the bookshelf into the living room, and Callum puts his bag down before sitting on the corner of the pullout couch, taking up so little space that I’m not entirely sure how he’s balancing his body.
He’s going to sleep here, so I sure hope he gets used to occupying more space.
Wait, what if he doesn’t get used to it? What if he sleeps on the floor to keep my couch free?
What if he tries to sleepoutside?
I should have chained the balcony door shut, just in case.
“You set all this up for me?” he asks, fixating on the pillow at the end of the couch.
“Yeah. You got dealt a bad hand with your dorm getting destroyed, but you’re my buddy. Of course I’m going to help out.”
Callum purses his lips together and makes a slow slide backward, finally occupying a little more than a solitary square inch of seating space.
I don’t think I’ve ever met someone quite as hesitant as this guy. It’s almost like?—
It’s almost like he isn’t used to someone caring about him.
No, it can’t be. NotCallum. Sure, he’s way too polite, like, all the time, but there has to be another reason why me giving him a pillow rendered him speechless—someonehas to have cared about him before.
“You didn't have to—” He snaps me back to reality, and I scoff.
“Shut up, man,” I say with a smirk, giving his shoulders a friendly shove that sends him falling backward onto his new bed. “You’re gonna take up space here,or else. Got it?”
Callum nods, and I beam back at him.
“Good boy.” I pat him on the head, and he blushes, forcing back a strained snort.
Sheesh, I'm odd. Why did I have to do that? Callum isn’t Nick.
“I'm, uh—do you want a house tour?” I ask, changing the subject.
He says yes and scrambles up, so I show him the laundry closet, the bathroom where he puts a single bottle of three-in-one, and then I end the tour in the kitchen.
“You have areallynice place,” he says.
“Yeah, I try to keep it cozy and stuff.” I just smile—I’m veryaware that he’s completely independent, and I don’t want to be an ass and humble-brag about how my parents got this apartment as an investment property.
“So, uh, I should have asked earlier, but what’s rent gonna be?” He fidgets as he says that, sliding his strong fingers between one another, and it takes me a while to wrap my head around what he means.
Seriously, this guy’s dorm got evacuated and?—
“You think I’m gonna charge rent for mycouch?” I ask.
“I mean, itisyour house,” Callum replies.
