Proving Paul's Promise
Page 9

“Since I found out you’re homeless,” he says.
“I’m not homeless,” I protest.
“Where are you living after today?” he asks.
I’m not at all sure about that, but he doesn’t need to know it. “Shut up,” I say instead.
He pushes the paper toward me. “I have an extra room. You need a place to stay. Let’s not make it more than it is, okay?”
“That’s all you’d expect?” I ask, hating how quiet my voice suddenly gets.
“You could be pregnant, Friday,” he says. “What else would I want from you?”
My breath catches. He is so right. I have been looking at this like it’s all about us, but it’s not. It’s all about this baby I have to protect for nine months, a baby he’s now fully aware of, even if he’s not aware of the details.
“How much?” I ask.
“How much can you afford?” he asks.
He knows full well how much money I make; he pays me. But he isn’t aware of the money I make doing commissioned portraits and other artwork.
He waves a hand in the air. “Don’t worry about what it costs,” he says. “Pay me whatever you can. The room is just sitting there empty. And if you live with me, I won’t have to worry about you being homeless.”
I snort. “Like you’d worry anyway.”
His brow rises. “I worry. I worry about you all the f**king time. But if you live with me, I won’t have to. So take pity on me and just take the f**king room, dammit.”
“Okay.”
He looks surprised. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
He grins. “Okay.”
“Can I come over tonight?” I ask.
He nods and brings the phone back to his mouth and starts to speak. I close his door.
Reagan’s parents are coming tonight. I was going to go to Logan and Emily’s, but I’d rather not have to hear their bed thumping against the wall all night. Emily is almost nine months pregnant and those two still go at it like rabbits.
Wait. Will I have to hear Paul’s bed thumping against the wall? Shit. I didn’t even think about that.
Paul
I try to clean up a little bit since I know Friday is coming over. I toss out all the pizza boxes and put clean sheets on Matt’s old bed. His bedroom is right next to mine, and I can already imagine what it’s going to be like lying in my bed fantasizing about her naked in hers.
“You’re a little bit whipped,” Sam says from behind me.
I turn around and scowl at him. “I am not.”
“Yes, you are. I think it’s cute.” He grins at me as he balances himself in the doorway, dangling from the overhang like a monkey. “You have a crush.”
“I do not have a crush,” I say.
“Oh, you totally have a crush,” he sings out.
I can’t let him tease me like that, so I chase him out of Matt’s old room and down the hallway into the living room. He jumps over the back of the couch, and I go over it after him. I catch him around the waist and knock him to the floor. He’s wiry and quick, and I don’t remember him being quite as strong as he is now, but I pin him to the floor anyway.
I must be getting old because it’s harder to hold him down than it used to be. A lot harder. Sam’s a collegiate athlete, and he’s even being scouted by a couple of pro teams, so he’s in peak physical shape all the time. Unlike me. Thankfully, I have size on my side.
A knock sounds at the door. I yell, “Come in!” without letting Sam up. He grunts and shoves at me, but I sit on him. The door opens and a man walks in carrying a box. I freeze, because he looks familiar.
“Get off me, you big f**ker,” Sam says. The man raises his brow at us and looks back at Friday, who is dragging a suitcase.
I let Sam up, and he swipes the hair back from his brow. He’s sweating. I’m not. But I also wasn’t the one trying to scramble up from the floor.
“Looks like my kind of party,” the guy says. He grins at Friday, and I hate him immediately.
Friday rolls her eyes at us and walks inside. “Are we too early?” she asks.
“Too early for what?” I reply. I don’t like it at all that she brought this f**ker to my house. Not one bit.
“Too early to move in.”
I look from her to him and back. “Beg your pardon?” I say.
She points to the dickwad and then to me. “Garrett, you remember Paul. Paul, Garrett. The one who got pinned is Sam. Sam’s a pu**y, but he can’t help it because he’s never been loved enough.” She laughs, and the tinkle of it hits me in the gut.
Garrett sticks out his hand to shake. I take it and squeeze it hard enough that he winces. I can’t believe he came to my house. “Good to see you again,” I say.
“You, too.” He twists his hand out of my grip.
“How long are you staying?” I blurt out. I can’t help it. I’m a guy.
He grins and looks down at Friday. “We’re having dinner, right?” he asks.
She nods. “Come and help me put my stuff away,” she says.
I get the feeling she’s talking to him since he follows her into her new room and they close the door. Then she sticks her head back out and asks, “Will you call us when the pizzas get here?”
I nod because I can’t get any words past the fist she just shoved into my gut.
“That’s f**ked up,” Sam grunts.