CHAPTER 3
WAYLON
This probably isn’tthe best idea. Or even a good one. In fact, it’s probably terrible. But that Darcy can be very convincing. I can even go so far as to say I understand why Ridge fell for her so hard the way he did. She’s got spirit.
She sold me on Lyric as a roommate when she mentioned she’s really good at cooking and likes to prep her meals for the week. And how she used to do it for the both of them. And then sprinkled bonus points all over it by mentioning how she really loves dogs and would be more than happy to dog sit for me. How do I argue against those excellent points?
But… there are points in the negative column too. A certain evening that feels both long ago and just last week. I really biffed it when I went dude on her and left things the way I did. It was a night where technically nothing happened. An almost that never came to fruition. Sure, that’s my fault. Possibly. But it’s been too long now. The more time that passed, the more it felt stupid to try to explain. Was there much to explain? I don’t know. I was a guy and she was a girl, and fuck did I want that kiss to lead somewhere, but we were talking and it was flowing.
I told her things I’ve never told any of the guys. And quite frankly, it scared the shit out of me. I panicked. Possibly. Have I said that out loud to anyone? Of course not. The guys all still think nothing happened. And she said the same. The end. Nothing happened.
Part of me wonders if that moment has passed us up completely. It totally has, right? Which means there shouldn’t be any issues with us being roommates. Moment is gone. Done. So perhaps there isn’t all the much listed in the negative column. She’s Darcy’s friend; in the circle already, sort of; I know she’s a good person. So really, it makes perfect sense. I feel like I’ve been talking myself in and out of this for two days, and she’s going to be here to look at the place in… I check the time and realize she should be here any minute.
I jump up from the couch. I’ve been neck-deep in my thoughts for longer than I intended. That’s what happens to me. I decide to take a minute to sort myself out, and nearly forty minutes later, I snap out of it and realize I’ve been in my head for too long.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I already know it’s Lyric, considering this is exactly what time she’s supposed to arrive.
LYRIC
I’m here.
After the other day, when Darcy played mediator between us, she got fed up, gave us each other’s numbers, and told us to figure it out ourselves. I don’t blame her. Lyric didn’t want to talk directly to me just yet, so she told Darcy to ask me whatday she could come see the place. I told Darcy whatever worked for Lyric was fine. Then she asked me if Saturday, also known as today, was fine. I asked what time, Darcy said Lyric didn’t care, and that she was over going between us. “Here’s her number,” she’d texted. “Y’all better get your shit together.”
But I didn’t text first, oh no. I waited. And waited. And waited. And then I fell asleep. I woke up to exactly this text:I’ll be there at one. To which I said, “Ok” and that’s it, ladies and gentlemen. Until now, of course. I’ve been given the two-word gift of “I’m here.”
I scramble to my feet, jostling Tater awake in the fuss. He grumbles his many sarcastic thanks and hops down from the couch, stretching his short legs out in front of him as far as they’ll go. Which is not far at all.
He pads behind me, his little nails clicking and clacking on the hardwood floor. He never knows where we’re going or why, but his tail sure does wag like he’s happy as pie about it.
I swallow back the bit of nerves I’ve been trying to keep at bay. The only times I’ve seen Lyric since that night have been in group settings where she didn’t so much as give me a nod hello. And now we’re about to be alone without the buffer of company, forced to speak to each other.
My hand pauses on the doorknob for one more second, and then I swing the door open. There she is, wearing that sourpuss face she’s almost always wearing when she’s looking at me. It’s the damndest thing. The minute she’s no longer looking at me, the sourpuss face washes away. It’s nearly instant, which I believe to be a hell of a talent.
“Hello, darlin’.” I plaster on my biggest smile. Because despite the sullen expression, her face still makes me do it. I have zero control over it.
“Hi,” she says. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest. She’s holding her elbows like it’s frigid outside, when it’s actually a very warm sixty and sunny.
“Come on in. Have a look at the place.” I step back from the doorway, giving her a wide birth so she feels comfortable coming in. I don’t know what it’s like to be a woman, but I imagine considering moving in with a guy, stranger or not, might give you a little anxiety.
Lyric steps over the threshold, but she’s not looking around at the place like I’d expect. Her eyes are fixed on my feet. Well, the ball of fluff standing to the right of them, I should say.
“Oh, this is Tater. He’s a very well-mannered dude. Tater, go.”
On cue, he lunges forward, standing on his back paws and jumping against her leg. If he were a big dog, I’m not sure I’d let him. But considering he doesn’t clear your kneecaps, you’re not in any real danger of being toppled over.
Tater barks his hello, and Lyric immediately drops to her knees, running her hands over his back and stuffing up his hair.
“Hewwo, pwetty dawgie,” she says in a very appropriate dog baby voice.
“Aren’t you just the pwettiest boy, oh my goodness.” She scratches behind his left ear, causing him to stomp his back right leg over and over, the way Thumper on Bambi did.
“It’s the damdest thing.” I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Not sure how his left ear and right left got cross wired, but he’ll tap that foot every single time.”
“Aww, we wuv that tapping boy, don’t we? Yes, we do,” she says to him.
She’s spoken more words to him in the past thirty seconds than the entire year we’ve known each other. Great.
“He’ll let you pick him up and carry him around while I show you the place, if you want. He’s kind of a ham like that.”
