I glance at Amanda, who’s raising her brows and swaying. Ignoring her expression, I answer him, “Nope. We’re just roommates.”
A reassured grin appears on his face as he adjusts his backpack and nods toward the exit.
“I’m headed over to the Sandwich Grill. You wanna grab something quick to eat?” he asks with an eager expression.
“I have to get home. Tuesday is laundry day,” I tell him.
“You want some company?” he asks, but I shake my head.
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
Amanda huffs. “It’s just lunch, and you have to eat. Go hang out with the man!”
I sigh, checking my watch and thinking before answering, “Yeah. You’re right. I haven’t eaten all day, and I’ve been meaning to check out that place. Okay, let’s go eat.”
Nathan and I say our good-byes to Amanda and head across campus to the Sandwich Grill. It’s a narrow shop with a long counter on the left and tables on the right. We pay for our own lunches and take a seat. For the next forty minutes, we enjoy our food while Nathan tells me about where he comes from—Santa Barbara—his plans for after college—dental school—and his love for slam poetry. Apparently, there are coffee houses all over the city that he likes to frequent.
He’s a nice guy, and by the time we’re cleaning off our table, I’m happy I decided to join him for lunch. It’s been great, making friends with my brother’s teammates and making new friends of my own.
Once I head home, I grab my basket of laundry and roll of quarters. When the guys said laundry day was Tuesday, they weren’t lying. The building only allows certain apartments to use the machines on certain days to avoid quarrels. Chad comes in the morning, I’m here in the afternoon, and Wes gets his loads down in the evening.
With my textbooks lined on top of the machines, I study while my whites get cleaned. The buzzer goes off, and I’m loading them in the drier when a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist, making me yelp.
“Hey, Squid. It’s just me,” Wes says, spinning me around.
I’m surprised by the smile on his face and the fact that he’s here in the dungeon of a basement of our building while I’m doing laundry. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I was on my way to class when I realized there was a beautiful brunette who was all alone and could use some company.”
I cross my arms. “I don’t buy it. You have an ulterior motive. Give it up, Knight.”
His mouth curves in a cocky grin. “Fine. You caught me. I absolutely came here for something.”
“What’s that?”
He grabs me and kisses me. My arms clench around his neck, and I wrap my legs around his hips as he sets me on top of the dryer.
When he pulls back, he says, “Lift your legs.”
“Wesley!” I admonish. “I am not having sex with you in the laundry room!”
He stifles a laugh. “As intriguing as that sounds, I wasn’t asking for sex. I need you to move your legs, so I can finish putting your whites in the dryer.”
“Oh.” I pull my textbook out from under my ass and then cross my legs under each other.
Wes puts my clothes in the dryer and then scoots my butt, so he can turn it on. Next, he takes my basket of dirty clothes and holds them up. “These next?”
I nod, and he loads those into the washing machine, inserts quarters and detergent, and then turns it on.
“You’re acting funny,” I say. “You’re being nice.”
“I’m a nice guy.” He shrugs while putting the empty basket on the table next to us.
“Not this nice. What gives?”
He leans against the cinder-block wall with his arms crossed and grins. “Just woke up in a good mood. Turns out, going down on my roommate in the middle of the night makes me happy.”
I want to make a joke about how Chad is also his roommate, so taken out of context, that comment would have a whole new meaning. But I don’t tease him because, in all honesty, “I’ve been in a really good mood today too.”
“Good to know.”
I open my textbook on my lap and look down at my notes. I’m going through the passages I need to read before writing my paper, but I can’t pay attention because of the six-foot-two man staring at me. “Can I help you with something?”
“You study a lot.”
“Isn’t that the point of college?”
“No.” He pushes off the wall and grabs my textbook, thumbing through the pages. “What are you studying anyway?” He checks out the front cover and reads The Economics of Conservation.
I grab it from him. “I’m majoring in conservation and resource studies.”
“Still trying to save the world?”
Swatting him on the arm with the thick book, I explain, “I care a lot about the environment, but I also happen to think our money is poorly spent on trying to do what is right.”
“What made you so”—he looks up at the ceiling, as if trying to find the right word—“fiscally responsible?”
I grin. “Nice term. Well, I think it’s a by-product of being raised by an actor. When I was little, my dad had that role on Days of Our Lives, and it afforded us a nice life. You’ve seen the house we grew up in. When he lost that role, our lifestyle was hard to maintain. We had a lot on the outside, but we couldn’t keep up with the neighbors when my dad was losing out on mouthwash commercials to the guy from Cheers. It made me realize how fleeting money can be.”
“That seems so strange to me. All those years of coming to your house, I never would have thought that you were worried about money. Everyone was always so … happy.”
“We were happy. Dad lived project to project, paycheck to paycheck, but Mom always had an income. We had to be mindful of our wants compared to other kids, but we also didn’t want for too much. Chad just wanted to play ball, and I … well, I just liked the little things.”
“What kind of little things?”
I smile as I raise my legs and then drop them down. “Ice cream cones on a hot day, a bike ride near the beach, fishing on a Sunday. You know, the experiences. My dad might not have been able to buy me Hermes or Louboutin, but he gave me moments that are priceless.”
My voice is soft, and my eyes feel like they’re twinkling, but it’s Wes’s soulful gaze and the glazed-over look he has as he listens to me talk that have my heart growing two sizes too big. I like that he’s looking at me like that.
“Anyway,” I continue, “he’s making awesome money now and killing it on Navy Captain.”
“He’s found success again. I love him on that crime show,” Wes says.
I smile at the role my dad has been playing as a Navy captain for the past two years. It started as a guest appearance, but he just signed on as a regular and is finally making good money again.
“That role has saved his career. Hopefully, he can retire after this, if he budgets and invests wisely.”
“I’m sure you’re on top of him about that.”
I laugh as I hold up my books. “You know it. I even took an elective that will help me manage his portfolio.”
The dryer is vibrating under my butt as I hold my book to my chest. He’s looking at the floor, seemingly lost in thought.