I do not know what I was expecting, but it was not this. It’s cool, but not flashy. The whole space is one big, easy rectangle, with enormous windows running along the back walls offering waterfront views. To my left is the kitchen area, divided from the living space by a counter-cum-breakfast-bar and an enormous concrete pillar that looks sturdy enough to support the weight of the entire building. I vow to return to that later, but for now step past it, to get a closer look at the living room.
There’s a rectangular dining table to my left, and on the wall to the far right of the room is an enormous cream couch, wide and deep and smattered with cushions. Behind it, on thewall, is a huge framed poster, and in front of the sofa, a plexiglass coffee table. On the wall opposite the sofa is his TV, with a unit underneath it that’s home to books and records, and a couple of framed photos sitting on top. Maybe most surprisingly of all, there’s plants: a tree-looking thing beside the couch, and a few smaller ferns and vines dotted around on the other surfaces. The whole place feels comfortable, and supremely inviting. It’s tidy, but lived-in. Grownup.
“Do you have a roommate?” I ask him tentatively.
“Just me.” He smiles.
I wander around, poking at all the little things I can find, running my fingers along the spines of his book collection—mostly a mix of biographies and Stephen King novels.
I feel like an archaeologist on a dig site, each new finding an undiscovered piece of Connor I never knew about before.
I rifle around the kitchen for ages, poking around the cupboards and snooping through his fridge, and then once most of the living space has been explored, I turn back toward the corridor.
“Now where am I heading?” I askhim.
He leads me down the hall, stopping at the first door, which turns out to be a closet.
“This is famously where I keep my coats. Also shoes.”
“That’s genius.”
“Here is a bathroom,” he says of the next door, opening it for me and flicking on the light. It’s small, and clean—just a vanity, a toilet, and a small shower cubicle.
“Another closet?” I ask, pointing at a folded door beside the bathroom entrance.
“Laundry,” he says, sliding it open to reveal a stacked washer and dryer. Jeez. Talk about living in the lap of luxury.
I can only assume the last unexplored room in the corridor is his bedroom. My stomach flips over in anticipation as he flicks on the light.
Only when we get there, it’s not a bedroom at all, but a home office space. There’s a double-doored closet at one end of the room and a desk against the wall on the other side, the two enormous monitors a perfect match to the set he has at work.
I stare at the room blankly.
“I don’t understand,” I say slowly. “Where do you sleep?”
A smile dawns. “In my bedroom, if you can believeit.”
“There’sanotherbedroom?”
He nods.
“The rent on this place must be insane.”
There’s another bookcase in here, revealing a whole new treasure trove of artifacts for my discovery. Connor watches me the entire time, waiting patiently for my reaction.
My eye alights on a familiar figure.
“Oh my god, is that Brian?” I say, picking up the toy dinosaur resting on his shelf. Sure enough, itisBrian: theDinoCodelogo is stamped on the bottom of its foot.
I look back at the shelf and gasp. “You have Julie too?”
“I forgot they were friends of yours,” he murmurs.
“And yours, clearly,” I counter, waving the toys at him. He only laughs. “I can’t believe this. All this time you’ve been teasing me about likingDinoCodewhenyou’rethe super fan.”
“Busted.”
“I don’t get it,” I say, clutching Brian and Julie to my chest. “Did you used to work there or something?”
