I was standing outside my hostel, unsure where to go until I had work later that day. “Hi, Ethan, it’s Hailey Willows.” I tried to sound professional. This was my adult “I am not going to sleep with you ever” voice.
“Hailey. Are you okay?” Concern laced his voice and I hated that it made my insides heat up. A slow burn worked its way from my chest to my belly.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m taking the day to look at some apartment openings and thought I would put yours on my list of tours.” Bonus of being married to an abusive douchebag for years, I was a damn good liar.
“Oh yeah. Come on by anytime. I’m here now working on an old Harley. Address is on the card.”
I cleared my throat. “Okay. I’ll be there shortly.”
He paused a moment. “Do you need a ride?”
“Nope.” I hung up.
Hailey 2.0 didn’t take free rides. I would walk the soles right off these fucking Wal-Mart shoes before I took a handout.
Fun fact: when you don’t have a smart phone, you don’t know where the hell you are half the time. Having grown up here and doing about fifty first Friday art walks downtown, I knew this area pretty well, but everything had changed. New buildings had popped up, the freaking light rail was put in…
I couldn’t find Ethan’s damn shop.
Finally I broke down and asked a young man who I was pretty sure was a drug dealer. He mapped it for me on his phone and sent me in the right direction. By the time I walked up to Ethan’s two-story garage on Adams Street, I was a hot, sweaty mess. My dark brown hair was stuck to the back of my neck, so I tossed it up into a top knot and was grateful I’d thought to wear a crop top that gave my stomach some breathing room. When summer hit, walking and taking the bus or light rail to school was going to suck major ass.
Looking up, I stared at the sign for a long minute,King’s Motorcycle Shop,hung over the brick front. How did a little kid from the ghetto start his own business? It was inspiring, though I’d never tell him that. When I was sure I wasn’t huffing and puffing and my face was no longer dripping sweat, I walked into the front office. A little bell chimed overhead but no one was behind the counter. A small sunglasses display, motorcycle helmets, and an array of bagged chips were for sale in the corner.
“Come on in!” I heard someone scream over music from deeper inside the garage. Bypassing the desk, I saw that a small door was ajar, and it led to a large, six-bay garage.
When my eyes landed on a sweaty, shirtless, Ethan King, I fucking regretted every choice I’d made that led me to this moment. No way could I be roommates with this guy.
He. Was. Delicious.
“Did you find the place okay?” He walked over and turned the music down, giving me a full view of his wide muscular back and perky ass in low slung jeans.
Until this very moment I honestly thought Bryce had deadened anything sexual left inside of me. I had no desire to ever look at another man, more or less touch one. Until now.
“Yeah. Fine.” I cleared my throat and held on to my backpack straps for dear life, as if they alone could keep me from the inevitable fucking that Ethan and I would one day most surely do.
His eyes roamed over my sweaty neck and chest. “It’s getting hot out.”
I was so screwed. I couldn’t live here. I couldn’t work at Mickey’s. I needed to leave the state. Panic ripped through me as our future friends-with-benefits relationship played out in my mind. We’d have mind-blowing sex five nights a week, which I would either love or hate depending on how badly Bryce had ruined me, and then I’d either do something psycho to push him away or he’d fuck up and we’d never talk again.
“The apartment is just up here.” He pointed to a set of stairs at the back that led to an upper level.
Focus, Hailey.A man loses his shirt and I lose my mind? Hailey 2.0 couldn’t be this girl.
“Cool.” I followed his fine ass upstairs and noticed that the entire garage was air conditioned.
“Must cost a fortune to cool this place.” I looked at the high ceilings with exposed industrial tubing.
He shrugged. “Not really. I invested in solar panels last year, so I rarely need to pay anything to the electric company.”
Fancy. That must be why utilities were included. We reached the top of the landing and I noticed there was actually a huge living space up here. To the left was a door with the number 1A over it, and then to the right was a huge living room with flat screen TV, large kitchen, and another door that said 1B.
“So I live in 1B. It’s 1A that’s for lease.”
He lived here? I would be living withhim? My mouth went dry and my face must have shown my concern.
“Is that okay? I mean, your apartment has a kitchenette with a small fridge and microwave and a private bathroom. You really would only need to leave if you wanted to use the oven in the bigger kitchen or watch TV.” He must have thought I was a fucking nutcase with the amount of rambling he was doing right now.
I probably looked terrified.
