“Yep, I’m ready for my new home.”
“Let’s go, then. I texted Tami to let her know we were on our way.”
“Perfect! All aboard!”
As we enter my car, I internally hope it doesn’t die on us. It’s at least a hundred years old in car years, with peeling paint that I’ve always known as this pinkish shade even though it’s supposed to be bright red, and the doors always creak no matter how much I oil them.
Only when Oli joins me am I reminded of the smell etched into the seats. Three “Hawaiian Dreams” air fresheners are hanging from the rearview mirror, but it’s not enough. The resulting scent is tropical cocktails and butts. But no matter how many asses have sat in this car, it’s mine, and I love it. I struggled a whole summer at McDonald’s to pay for it.
“Sorry for the smell,” I say with a wince.
“Believe it or not, I’ve been in worse cars.”
“That, I don’t believe,” I chuckle.
Half an hour later, we’re at my new place. I parallel park miserably the first time and much better when I try again. Oli, thankfully, says nothing. Tami’s already here, ready to help me with the boxes.
“Hey, roomie!” I sign with a broad smile.
“Hi, Andy!”
We share a quick hug, and then she does the same with Oli.
“I’m sorry, guys, the elevator malfunctioned during the night, so we’ll have to carry everything up the stairs,” she explains with a wince.
Oh, God! No! Not this!
After a few seconds, she lets out a small, breathy laugh, and so does Oli. “Sorry, I’m joking,” she signs. “He texted me to do it.”
I let out a reassured sigh and give Oli’s arm a feeble punch. “Ouch! Gentle there, Rocky.” He rubs the spot, pleased with his joke.
In barely ten minutes, the car is empty, and we’re on the elevator up, pressed against one another.
Between the boxes and the three of us, there isn’t much room for comfort. Stuck between Oli and Tami, with my entire front pressed against his, I feel strange. Although there’s a pleasant, friendly warmth, there isn’t any spark there. Nothing compared to the last time I was plastered against a man in an elevator.
I know for a fact that if it was Alexander Coleman instead of Oli, my entire body would be on fire.
It really isn’t fair. Why can’t we choose who we desire or love? Everything would be so much easier if I could want Oliver as much as I crave Alexander. I can see it working. We click very well, and the connection of our minds is a rare thing.
I’m almost sure that Oli likes me. His offer to help me out today is proof of it. Why else would anyone endure the nightmare that is moving out? Especially if it’s for an acquaintance of five days. Kate—my relationship expert—seems confident that Oli likes me that way. I, however, am not ready yet for more than platonic interactions.
I’m taken out of my thoughts as we reach Tami’s floor and the doors part, revealing a corridor with beige walls and blue carpet. We take everything out of the elevator to free it, and she guides us down the hallway.
The main door opens to a small entrance hallway with closets on the walls and a shoe organizer. At the end of that hallway, we enter the living area by two windows, with a cushioned couch, an armchair, and a coffee table made of wooden crates. There’s also a sixty-inch flat screen on a low console. There are three doors right in front of us, and akitchen to the left. It looks well-equipped, and although I’m not fond of cooking, I’m glad making meals won’t be too much of a chore.
Tami goes for one of the three doors, the one on the right, and opens it before going inside. We follow her, and I discover my new bedroom. It’s as warm as the rest of the apartment, with a sash window that leads to the fire exit. My selective brain decides to ignore the fact that it’s an easy way in for robbers and only think of the fresh air I can get from there, like in movies. Or maybe escape a psycho killer. Hopefully, I won’t need to.
It takes us another five minutes to get all my boxes in there, and then Tami offers us a cold drink to satiate our thirst. As we sit down to drink it, I pull my phone out and order pizzas and beers for everyone. I need to thank Oli for helping me out and Tami for taking me in.
They’re delighted by my offering and insist on helping me unpack as we eat. Oli’s in charge of setting up my computer, and Tami gets my kitchen box because she’ll know better than me what’s redundant.
“That’s a nice setup you have here,” Oli appreciatively says as he looks through the clear computer case.
“Thanks. I need a new graphics board, but it works well for now.”
Instead of answering, he frowns and points to his mouth. “You have…”
“What?”
