“Well. It was a very good not date, Wesley.”
He cursed under his breath, reaching into the car and unlatching his seatbelt.
“Do you want to come up?”
“Wesley, no,” I said quickly with a grimace.
“Not for…” He sighed. “I just figured since I did the walkthrough of your place, you could do the walkthrough of mine. It felt fair.”
“Fair,” I repeated.
“I mean, my furniture is just all crap from Ikea or whatever. I didn’t come with much.”
“You left everything with David?”
“It was easier. Quicker to get out and less logistics.”
I knew going up to his apartment was a bad idea, so I told him, “Yes.”
“Yes what?” He turned toward me, bright blue eyes that shone a stark contrast against the black sky behind him.
“Yes, I’ll come see where you live.”
Wesley held my stare, swallowing. His throat worked, the muscles tightening and relaxing, then he nodded, but didn’t move for the door.
“Grayson might be home,” he said quietly.
“Probably better.”
He made a thoughtful sound, like he agreed with me, even if he didn’t like it.
“Just a quick in and out,” I told him. “I have work in the morning.”
“Right.”
I unlatched my seatbelt and turned off the car, then followed Wesley across the street to the massive new construction building. The lobby was ridiculous with mirrors and white marble floors that sparkled and gleamed. Even with both of us in sneakers, our footfalls echoed as we crossed the lobby to the elevator.
“I’m surprised you don’t have a doorman,” I said as the elevator doors slid open.
“What’s that?”
“Are you serious?”
“What’s a doorman?” He turned the question on me, face colored with honest curiosity.
This was the problem with Wesley. If I wasn’t consumed with thinking about how young he was, I absolutely forgot how young he was. Apparently sheltered too.
“Fancy buildings like this have doormen sometimes,” I said. The elevator doors closed and I let my eyes follow behind. It was too dangerous to look at Wesley in the reflection of the doors. “They make sure non-residents don’t get in, take deliveries, mail, stuff like that.”
“That seems like a pretty cush job.”
His voice sounded louder, and I opened my eyes in time for the elevator to come to a stop on his floor.
“Maybe I’ll look for a job like that,” he said, stepping into the hallway.
I went after him, halting with a decent amount of space between us when he pulled his keys out of his pocket. The sound of a movie leaked out from beneath the door, and I knew that Grayson, the roommate, was home.
“Please tell me you’re decent,” Wesley called out into the apartment.
