“Not a category. A trope.”
“Well, that’s an extremely specifictrope.”
“Most of them are. You know what, scratch that, best friend’s sibling has been moving down my list lately. Okay, official top three...forbidden love, forced proximity and enemies-to-lovers.”
“And I’m assuming enemies-to-lovers is...”
“What it sounds like—people who hate each other but then fall in love.”
“So exactly what it sounds like,” Ryan says, the room turning oddly quiet. “Nice. I’d read that.”
I’m sort of unsure if there’s an implication there or if I’m overthinking it. “Right. Okay, enough of the literary discussions for now.” I cross the space between us to gingerly usher him away from the bookcase.
“It’s not my fault. Being around all these books is making me embrace my intellectual side.”
“That must be a foreign experience for you.” I then pivot to watch Duke sniff and snort on each of the brass legs of my white coffee table.
“Wow,” Ryan says behind me. “Success has really changed you, Sullivan. Remember when you used to be nice to me all the time?”
“Yeah, when I was teenager. I made fun of you then, too, but I kept it internalized because you were cute.”
“And I’m not now?”
I twist around to face him, my head tilting as I take in his appearance. Ryan isn’t cute. He is painfully good-looking.
“You’re okay,” I answer.
“All right, as much as I love the direction this conversation is now going in, I need to fill up Duke’s water bowl and set up his bed.” Ryan then moves across the room and squats down in front of his bag, unzipping and digging through it. He pulls out a large water bowl, a huge plush blanket and a pillow in the shape of a bone that says, “You had me at woof.”
I move to stand in front of my kitchenette. “The sink is right over here. Feel free to use the fridge or stove as much as you want. It’s not exactlyChoppedquality but it gets the job done.”
“That’s okay, I got it.” Without another word, Ryan about-faces and disappears into the bathroom, which is just outside my bedroom. Confused, I follow his trail until I’m standing in the doorway, watching as he fills up Duke’s water bowl in the sink.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Getting Duke some water.”
“I can see that, but why are you filling it up in here instead of in the kitchen?”
“Because this is where Duke sleeps.”
I try to absorb that last bit of intel but it doesn’t quite get through. “Pardon?”
“Duke likes to sleep in the bathroom.”
Ryan finishes filling up the bowl and sets it down by my feet. Before I know it, I’m jostled aside by Duke as he nudges past me to get to his water. All but shoved out of the room by the thirsty bulldog, I shift to stand just outside the door frame. Ryan carefully folds up the thick fleece blanket until it turns into a bed that looks so soft, I wouldn’t mind giving it a go myself. Once he’s done, he stands up and leans back against the sink.
“Why does he sleep in the bathroom?” I ask.
“I’m not sure. Since the day I got him, that’s just where he goes to sleep.”
“So he’s going to be in the bathroom every night?”
“Most likely, yes. Is that a problem?”
“It’s not a problem,” I say, “but what if I have to use the toilet while he’s lounging around or whatever?”
Ryan shrugs. “Just make sure to watch your step. Duke won’t bother you.”
