Mitch’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry?”
“Look,” Hunter said with less confidence in his voice, but with a smile on his face. “I’m just going to put this out there, and you can tell me what you think. You’re hella cute, Mitch, and I’d love to go for coffee with you sometime.”
I chose then to interrupt, because I really shouldn’t have been in the middle of this moment. “Excuse me, Mitch,” I said, opening the door and slipping out. “I have the Post-Gazette to read. So I’m going to leave.”
“That wasn’t subtle at all!” Hunter cried out with a laugh to my back, and Mitch chuckled too.
I waved it off and trudged over the road as Mitch clambered into the front seat and shyly asked if they could do coffee right now. Hunter’s van rumbled to life, and a few moments later, they were off. I was left staring at the stretch of grass where the campus vigilante had saved me.
Chapter 6
Quinn showed up shortly past five, his hair still wet from showering. He toed off his shoes and dumped his sports bag at the front door, eyeing me with a look that made me think perhaps I wasn’t standing straight enough, that made me wonder if something was hanging out of my nose. Casually, I swiped my face and rolled my shoulders back into better posture.
Having a roommate makes all kinds of sense. I rarely used my study anyway, preferring to work on the couch or my bed, and, well . . . in case I did die in my apartment, someone would know about it. Someone who could scream a little louder than a cat, anyway.
I dug my hands into the pockets of my dark gray slacks and fiddled with my pen as Quinn strolled into the room toward me. The lump that rose in my throat took a few swallows to get down.
“This is the place.” I pointed toward the study Quinn had eyed the last time he was here.
For a moment it could have been that night all over again, with the way he charged over to the door and stuck his head inside.
“You’d really still want to live with me?” he asked, sneaking a look at me from the corner of his eye. “You’re not kidding?”
“Why would I joke?”
Snorting, he moved over an inch so we could both fit in the doorway. “Yes, why indeed.” Without warning, Quinn slung his arm over my shoulders and crushed me closer to his side. “So, roomies then? You going to be good with that?”
“If you cut down on the deodorant,” I said, prying myself free, “we’ll be great.”
Quinn laughed. “Can I get a glass of water? I’m still parched from class.”
“Class?” I asked as I headed for the kitchen. “On Saturday?”
“Shannon and I run self-defense classes at the rec center.”
I perked up at that. Since my unanticipated meeting with Freddy, I’d been thinking that maybe I should learn some self-defense. “Might be a good idea to take one of them,” I said, pulling out a fresh glass from the cupboard.
Quinn leaned against the opposite side of the kitchen island and flicked through the pile of party flyers I had collected over the weeks. “You should come along to one, then.”
“I’ll check my schedule, but yes, that would be good.”
As I turned on the tap and filled Quinn’s glass, he blurted, “You don’t mind I’m gay?”
I glanced at him over my shoulder and turned off the tap. Facing him, I leaned back against the sink. “Why should I?”
He looked at me, the frown on his brow slow to disappear. “All right. Just don’t want you freaking out when you see a guy leave from my room, that’s all.”
I swapped the hand holding his glass and wiped my wet palm over the leg of my pants. “If I were to ‘freak out’ as you call it, I’d probably be doing that while he’s in the room. The walls are thin. But, rest assured, Quinn Sullivan, I’m too busy to care about your shenanigans. As long as the wall stays up, you’re all good.”
“All good, huh?” For the confident guy he was, he sounded quite relieved. “How much do you want for the room?”
I lifted the glass and drank. By the time I remembered it was meant to be his, I’d already finished it, a few drops of water beading at the corners of my mouth.
Giving him a sheepish smile over the edge of the rim, I put the glass in the sink and filled up a fresh one. “Sorry. You’ll probably have to get used to that. I get sidetracked with a thought and, yes, well . . . I’m also a little on the clumsy side.”
“Yeah, you don’t say.”
A bizarre and irrational urge to poke my tongue out at him came over me, but I managed to keep my decorum. “I don’t pay rent on the place, so I don’t expect you to either.”