“The floor isn’t actually lava,” he says.
“Don’t spoil it,” I joke, but then immediately regret. He might actually think I believe the producers could somehow transport molten lava into the studio.
He kisses the tip of my nose. “Sorry.”
As the contestants leap and travel across the basement, Finn shouts animated play-by-play like an announcer. It’s giving me flashbacks to the gym. In episode four, they attempt to swing through a booby-trapped kitchen on steroids.
“Think you could make it through that?” Finn asks. “We could try out for it.”
My eye twitches. “Well, we’d need a third person.”
“Maybe Austin. He seems like he’d be a good competitor,” Finn says.
His phone chimes, saving me from responding. And really, I don’t have one.
He types away for a few minutes and then says, “My buddy knows a guy who has a place available, if I want to take a look at it. Says it’s a hot property that’ll go fast.”
“Oh, that’s great.”
“Want to come with me? Give the feminine perspective.”
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure.”
This is technically not going out. It’s a spontaneous house hunt, so he doesn’t end up with Austin. And there’s always the chance it will give me some ideas on areas for my own move. So far, repeated searches have returned nothing within my meager price range. Lucky for me, June hasn’t had any interested buyers yet, but that could change at any moment.
We drive east, about fifteen minutes outside of Boulder, to a secluded community with a perfect view of the Flatirons. The GPS leads us down a tree-lined road to an expanse of land surrounding a miniature wood house with a tall glass front.
I lean toward the windshield and gawk at the structure illuminated by the truck’s headlights. “It’s a tiny house.”
“No way,” he says. “I’m not paying three thousand a month for a dollhouse.”
“Three thousand?” I shriek.
“Yeah. Mike said it’s an engineer who owns it. It’s actually a vacation rental, but they’ll do a long-term lease.”
“Well, we should at least check it out? They can be spacious inside.”
“Okay, let’s do it.”
We exit and follow the lighted pathway to a cozy covered porch. Finn stoops and retrieves a key concealed beneath a planter beside the front door. Inside, he flips on the lights and I’m in awe. It’s beautiful. But incredibly small. The camera angles must make them appear larger. Even with the high ceilings and glass wall, Finn dwarfs the interior.
“Yeah, not happening,” he says, scanning the probably seven hundred square feet.
I scoot around him to explore.
“It’s so fascinating how they find hidden storage for all the things that you need.” I turn a handle on the wall and a dining table comes down. “See. Isn’t that amazing?”
“Babydoll, this is amazing. If you’re a munchkin.”
Ugh. There’s no denying the lack of livable space, but he needs to be flexible enough to love this place. I mean, how fun would it be for me for my boyfriend to have a tiny house? Like a realtor, I point out all the positive aspects. Built-in bookshelf over the door. Storage beneath the couch cushions. No cords anywhere. They’ve made it luxurious and modern with dark hardwoods, and granite countertops in the minimalist kitchen.
“I’m not composting a toilet,” he says, while I stand in the shower to show him a person can indeed fit. Sadly, there would never be shower sex, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices.
I step out, losing hope I’ll change his mind. “I think that’s an incinerator toilet. It lights your...you know...on fire, in a totally safe way.”
He gives me a flat look. “Light my shit on fire? Do I even need to say it?”
“No.”
I’m still determined, when we leave the bathroom. In the loft area is the bedroom. I scramble up the narrow steps and duck my head to climb in the bed. “There’s a skylight.”
Finn peeks into the claustrophobic space. “Yeah, I’d have to stick my head out of it to fit in here.”
This is true, but I’m not giving up. In a bit of a Houdini move, I roll off the bed and hunch my way out of the room. Downstairs, I brush past Finn and open a door that leads to an oversized concrete patio full of furniture. Bingo.
“Wow, this is huge.” He follows me outside. “Your space is expanded outdoors.” I spread my arms. “Endless entertaining back here under the stars.”
He looks up at the night sky and doesn’t seem dazzled by the multitude of twinkling dots.
Short chunks of wood lie stacked next to the house, so I try another tactic. “There’s even a fire pit, for when it’s chilly. Don’t you want to live in harmony with nature?”
“Not really. Is Austin’s place still available?”
This can’t happen. Not to be negative, but what if there’s a breakup? Who gets Austin? “I don’t really think you want to room with Austin. He’s a chef, so there’s a constant temptation of delicious carbs.”
“He seems laid-back, though. That’s important.”
“He is, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Ya know?”
“Why not?” He moves closer and caresses my arms. “You thinking about maybe us living together?” he asks.
“Jesus, no.” Oops. Too adamant. His question has me off-kilter. I wish I’d paid more attention to Jack Ryan tracking down clues. Is Finn leaving me a set as well? Is he more into this than I am? When I mentally advance to the future with Finn, it’s blurry.
“I mean, just feels a little soon, right?” I say, softly. “It’s only been a couple of weeks.”
He nods. “So if I move in with him, you won’t be hurt?”
I worry at the corner of my lip. How do I answer his question? I don’t.
“Funny you should say hurt.” Disregarding Henry’s internet relationship advice, I slip on a mask. “I’m really sore from the workout yesterday. Maybe you could kiss it better?”
Nine
“You’re making me horny,” Finn says.
Success. My house of cards is still standing. Of course, guilt is now threatening to knock it down. But the primal way he’s looking at me is now making me horny.
“Want to head back to my place?” I suggest.
“No. Here. Outside.”
The staccato rhythm of his words is caveman-esque and sends an ache straight to my core. I’ve never had sex in the open, and the prospect excites me. There’s a problem, though—this is someone else’s property. It doesn’t seem right to desecrate a stranger’s patio.
Without uttering a word, Finn’s tempting lips talk me into it. It’s not like we’re trespassing. He has a key, and we’re not going to have sex in the tiny bed. We’re outside.
“I’m in.”
“Give me two minutes.” In an impressive display that Bear Grylls would envy, he tosses logs into the basket-shaped fire pit and finds everything needed to bring it to life.