“Rusty is dead.”
“Do you have a photo of him?”
“Will you drop the subject if I show it to you?”
“Yes.”
When he showed me the photo on his phone, I blinked in disbelief.
“Shit, that’s the ugliest mutt I have ever seen.”
The animal in the photo looked more like a raccoon than a dog. His fur was patchy, his tail crooked, and his teeth made him look like a vampire. A stubborn spark in his eyes reminded me of his owner.
Adam nodded. “Yeah, he’s not winning any dog contests.”
“Sorry,” I said, internally slapping myself. “I’m an idiot. It’s because you keep surprising me.”
“No, it’s the truth. Rusty was so ugly I had to pay strangers on the street to pet him to make him feel better.”
“That’s the saddest, but also the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. You really did that?”
He grinned. “No. I just made it up.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I said with a sigh. “God, why am I so attracted to you when you can be such an asshole?”
“Maybe I’m your type,” he offered, scratching his chest.
“Yeah, maybe you fucking are,” I said, drinking up. “I guess I’m into tall, dark, and assholish. On a brighter note, at least you can cook, and you have a big…”
I stopped myself in the nick of time, cursing my loose tongue.
He blinked. “A big what?”
“That’s my cue to do the dishes,” I muttered, standing up. “Stop gloating and fuck off.”
He touched my hand, stopping me. “You won’t do the dishes. The dishwasher will do the dishes. You can check out the rest of the apartment. See if you can find my bedroom.”
No dishes. Look at the rest. Find the bedroom.
I was repeating it in my head when his words registered. “A what?”
Adam gave me a blank look.
“A bedroom. See if you can find my bedroom. It’s the room with a bed in it.”
“Oh,” I muttered, taking a clumsy step backward and almost knocking down a chair. “Right. Got it.”
As luck would have it, it was the first room I stumbled upon. The furniture was scarce, which meant a nightstand, an armchair, and a huge bed, neatly made. An electric fireplace was built into a wall, giving the space a warm, cozy feel. Soft, golden light spilled from a small bedside lamp in the otherwise darkened room. Behind the heavy drapes, the terrace door offered an emergency exit in case things went wrong.
I pulled the drapes aside, only to realize that outside, the storm was raging. Rain hammered against the glass, obscuring the flickering lights of Smitsville. The occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a deafening roar of thunder. Compared to the pandemonium outside, the room’s stark austerity made it seem like a fortress.
“I like your place, by the way,” I threw over my shoulder when I heard footsteps in the distance. “It’s not what I expected.”
“I prefer yours,” Adam said from somewhere in the hall.
It sounded improbable. My place looked like a dump compared to his. It was small, cluttered, and the sound isolation was shit. I was also a hoarder. I collected everything from chipped mugs and socks with holes in them to mismatched pots from different sets. Empty jars, old cans, and plastic containers were my kryptonite.
“The shitty weather spoils it,” I said, closing the drapes. “But I like the view.”
