Rocky Start (A Rocky Start)

“Oh. And you didn’t give it to him?” I ask her, wondering if he asked for it or not.

“You didn’t say we could.” Okay, so they respected me enough not to just give him my number despite the fact she knows I have feelings for him.

“Never mind. It’s not important. Anyway, let’s watch the Jungle Cruise because I need to have a good old-fashioned movie night with The Rock.”

“We can do it for sure.” We watch the movie in silence, but I can hardly concentrate on anything else.

“That movie was great,” Lydia says. I nod, agreeing without even thinking about what she’s saying.

I check my phone for the hundredth time, as if somehow I would have a text from Sean. It’s stupid because I turned him away and he doesn’t have my information, but I can’t get him out of my head. “I work tomorrow.”

“Okay. And?”

“I’m off to bed.” I don’t hear what she has to say because my mind is somewhere else. He’s been asking about me. What am I supposed to do about that? Is he just curious, or does that mean more?

I couldn’t focus on the movie at all because Sean was on my mind. Who was I kidding? He’s lived in my brain from the moment we met, and nothing in the past few days has changed that. Still, that’s not grounds for moving across the country to date a man.

****

I stare out the window mindlessly as I sit on the Orange Line train, exhausted, worn out after going back to Lakeland for a week. After our movie night, Lydia couldn’t get ahold of Whitaker. It took us until the next night to learn he’d been hurt. We rushed there and dealt with that situation and the crazy woman who attacked my sister. It’s been hell, and worse, I still haven’t been able to bring up the truth about the documents I found.

I’m just ready to sleep. I have to find a job now since I’ve been officially canned for calling in this last time, but thankfully since I don’t have to pay for the rent, I have plenty of money saved to live off for about two months without getting a job, three if I get frugal.

I was a little pissed that Sean didn’t show up. As Lydia’s agent, I thought maybe he’d care, but he only called her once or twice that I was aware of. Then again, I didn’t keep track of his calls. Maybe I expected him for my own benefit, but that’s stupid, of course.

It’s a warm day, so I tie my thin hoodie around my waist while I tug my suitcase down the street. Luckily it’s still early in the day because I hate walking around at night by myself when both my hands aren’t free. When I finally get to my apartment, there’s a moving van outside with Texas plates. Strange, Darcy hadn’t mentioned that the movers were coming this week for her things. Besides, wouldn’t the truck be from here, and not Texas? I climb the steps to my apartment, only to stop in my tracks. There are two large men bringing in a massive desk through my front door.

“Hey, be careful,” I hear. I know that voice. God, I remember that voice because it resonates in my brain every single night. What the hell is he doing in my apartment?

“Sean?” I call out as I approach the door.

“Hey, roomie,” he calls out as soon as I step through my front entrance.

“What?” I screech, tilting my head to the side.

He smiles widely, and I do my best to control the many emotions flowing through me. I can’t decide if I’m angry, happy, or most of all, horny. Yes, I’m most certainly all three at the moment. “Yeah, Lydia said I could have her old room to work in while I’m in Chicago for the next couple of months since she really doesn’t have the budget to afford me at the moment.” My mouth opens and closes several times, but no words find their way out.

I storm right past him and into my bedroom because I’m too tired to process all that he just said. Slamming the door shut, I leave my suitcase in the middle of the room and sit on my bed in silence, not moving, not thinking, just purely confounded.

This truly can’t be happening. Sean is quite literally in my apartment, moving in his belongings. I fall back onto the mattress and lie there, listening to the sounds of the movers until it suddenly goes quiet and the front door closes. Has he left?

The subtle but manly knock on my bedroom door answers that question. “Go away.”

“I was wondering if you were hungry,” he states. It isn’t a question, and I bet he won’t go away until I respond. My stomach picks the perfect time to rumble violently. “I don’t know the places around here, so maybe you could tell me which place is good to have delivered. I’ll get whatever you like.” I am hungry and he’s gonna pay for it, so I guess I’ll play nice.