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“I want to live with you for cuffing season.”
I drop my fork, and my mouth opens in shock. “Live with me?” I ask like I didn’t understand the words that came from his mouth. Hell, maybe I didn’t. I thought he just said he wanted to live with me.
“If you’re uncomfortable, I can stay on the couch or a guest room or something.”
I guess I didn’t imagine that. “What about your apartment? Don’t you have rent or mortgage?”
He blushes and looks away. “I told you that I like to move around.”
My eyes dart around the table as my mind works out what he’s saying. When the puzzle pieces click into place, my eyes widen. “Holy shit, are you homeless? Did you want a cuffing season date to sponge off my apartment?”
Fuck, how did this date go from good to terrible in such a short amount of time? Am I being used?
“Nothing like that,” he says, waving his hand like he’s being attacked by bees. “Besides, you need me just as much as I need you. I assume you still want your mother off your back.”
It’s not just that. I look down at my meal. It’s a meal I wouldn’t normally order unless I had a Groupon. It’s not that I expect him to pay for our date, but I was splurging way more than I’m used to. I close my eyes and only see dollar signs. Loans. The new car or routine maintenance ahead of me. The fact that I haven’t been forthcoming with Wilder either. After all, I didn’t tell him about the deal with my mother.
I need him just as much as he needs me, and I’m going to use him the same as he uses me. Sure, I can blame this on myself for not spacing out my degree so its affordable or making the decision to live alone without a roommate. I also have a guest room that’s empty and a lock on my bedroom door.
I put my head in my hands and think. He doesn’t nag. He doesn’t push. In fact, he chews his food across from me, and all I can think about is how he chews with his mouth closed and without annoying clicking noises, unlike many men I know. Would he be such a bad roommate?
“Where do you live now?” I ask, suddenly needing to know how he looks clean, put together, and functional.
He shrugs. “I told you that I like to camp.”
“Do you live in a tent?”
“I live at campsites around the state. I have a post office box for mail. I have a gym membership at the YMCA that allows me to go to any YMCA so I can shower if I’m at a campsite that doesn’t have one. Most do, though.”
I stare at him, trying to think of something he hasn’t covered. “What about food?”
“I eat a lot of things hikers eat. There’s also nothing like food cooked over a campfire. I’m a cast-iron pan stew connoisseur.”
“You’re a mechanic. How do you have a job if you move around?”
He smiles. “I work in one place during the winter months if I can find a…roommate.” He coughs into his fist and smiles. “I do odd jobs in the summer. Oil changes. Fixing bikes. Sometimes, I work as a mover. It pays the bills, and I don’t have many since I live pretty cheaply. By the way, dinner’s on me tonight.”
“Entertainment?” I ask, fascinated by his unusual lifestyle. I ignore the dinner payment comment, completely focused on digging deeper and understanding why he lives the way he does.
“Netflix and a mobile hot spot or campsite wi-fi. I also hike a lot.”
“What about bad weather? Storms in this part of the country?” I don’t know why I’m asking, testing him.
“I watch the weather and go to my friend’s house if I need to,” he shrugs. “Gus usually lets me sleep on the couch for a night. If there’s a bad heat wave, I’ll stay for a few days and be on my way.”
“So, you need a warm place to sleep for the winter, and you thought this would be a good idea?”
“You have to admit, it’s beneficial to both of us. I get a warm place to stay for the winter, you get your mother off your case, and we have someone to cuddle up to for cuffing season. I’ll go to that work party you mentioned.”
“Why do I feel like I’m at a car dealership, negotiating a sale?”
He holds his index finger up and drops his fork. “I’m glad you mentioned that,” he says, punching something into his phone. “I took the liberty of drafting something up.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s just a little document I’ll text to you. It basically outlines what we want. Here,” he says, swiping up and down and then tapping into his phone. He taps for a good minute until he turns the phone around. “I added a clause that I go to your work holiday party with you. What would the sleeping arrangements be?”
“Uh…well, I have a guest room.” I can’t believe I’m even considering this.
