“He’s my boss,” she said.
“He’s also hot,” Mackenzie said. “There are worse people to spend your time with.”
She didn’t get a chance to make a comeback as Preston chose that moment to return. “Sorry about that.” They ate their food, and Eliza let the conversation just drift from topic to topic.
Her friends were right.
She hated failure and would always spend way too much time analyzing her thoughts and her approaches. It was the one thing she hated more than anything in the world.
After their lunch, she hugged Juliet and Mackenzie tightly.
Following Preston out of the restaurant. They waited for the car, and once it arrived, he held the door open for her.
She thanked him, sliding inside. She’d put the seatbelt on as he got behind the wheel. Giving him her address, he pulled the car away from the curb.
“Your friends are nice.”
“They’re the best. No doubt.” She loved them even as she hated them. They were both right though, and that was the pain in the ass she couldn’t deal with.
Why did they have to be right?
They arrived at her apartment. Clearly, the fates had decided Preston was supposed to be with her today as there was a parking space outside. She lived in a nice neighborhood. With her, Juliet, and Mackenzie banding together, they were able to save up enough rent for a good place.
She climbed out of the car, totally aware of Preston joining her as they made their way into the apartment block. After traveling up the few flights of steps, she got to her door. The stairs seemed less intimate than the elevator. Her thoughts quickly drifted back to the strange moment at the elevator. How close he’d been, and she couldn’t resist glancing at his lips, wondering how good they would feel brushing against her own.
She slid her key into the lock, flicked the door open, and stepped into her own world. The world she had away from the office. Her safe space. Her domain.
Invaded by her boss.
“Wow,” he said, stepping inside.
“It’s a nice apartment.”
“You’ve got a lot of pictures,” he said.
Over the years, Juliet, Mackenzie, and she had enjoyed a lot of time together. Making so many memories. They had pictures of reminders of the adventures they shared. On the far wall was a picture of the three of them together, arms across each other’s shoulders, smiling at the camera. It was taken during a camping trip. Mackenzie’s dad had donated the tent for them to take out into the woods.
They hadn’t lasted the whole night as they thought they heard wolves and bears. They ended up using their sleeping bags and flashlights in her own folks’ living room. After that night, they agreed to never go on a camping trip.
“We wanted to document everything. It seemed important to us.”
He lifted a picture. “And this?”
She moved toward him. “That was the day we moved into this apartment. We’d all gotten jobs, and we felt like was going to be a huge success.”
“You don’t think it is?”
“I’m fake engaged to my boss,” she said. “I think I’m doing well. I’m going to pack a few things. Make yourself at home.”
She rushed into her bedroom, not wanting Preston to get too comfortable with everything. Grabbing two bags, she went to her closet and looked at the ready-made clothes she’d purchased on the high street, and the few garments she made.
Her mother’s hobby was that of a dressmaker. She loved to sew and craft, and Eliza had picked it up, but she never talked about it. Her best friends encouraged her to make more, but between work and everything else, she didn’t have the time. Her sewing machine was wrapped up in the corner of her room.
Ignoring it, she packed her clothes, some lingerie, and some shoes. She didn’t bother to pack any books or to do anything else.
With her bags packed, she entered the main sitting room. Preston sat there, looking around the room. “Your place is … homely,” he said.
“I guess you can never take the town out of the girl,” she said. “I like to feel at home wherever I go. I’m ready.”
“You packed light?”
“Nope, I packed prepared.”
****
Entering his apartment, Preston became aware of how sterile his space looked in comparison to Eliza’s.
Her small apartment was lived in. It was alive with memories, of a family. They were three best friends, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt they were also a family. Just looking at the pictures alone, he knew they were a unit.
He’d witnessed it at lunch, but her apartment confirmed that.
His place had no real personal touch. This was just somewhere he used to crash away from work. No special pictures. No sign of a real person living here.
He held Eliza’s bags as he insisted on carrying them for her. “So, this is my place.”