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“She’d really kick him out for that?” I asked, aghast. I’d lost any illusions that Gran was a sweet little old lady the one time I’d come to visit with Vi and found her making prank calls to the bar downtown that had issued the twin insults of cutting her off and calling Drew to come cart her home. But turning out her own grandson?

Violet shrugged. “My folks are traveling for a few weeks. She may have seized her opportunity.”

“She wants to bring a man home that badly?” I asked. “She can’t just go to his place if she wants?”

Violet chuckled. “Honestly, I’m surprised Gran hasn’t been arrested for indecent exposure by now. I think she’s too much a free spirit to even need a bed. If I had to guess, this is about pushing Drew out of the nest while my mom is gone. They’d have a knock-down drag-out if she were home.”

“Huh.” I tried to imagine it and couldn’t. Gran was a character, but Vi’s mom had earned the nickname Hurricane Vanessa by rights. Both women scared me just a bit. The difference between them was that Gran didn’t hide what she was. She proudly announced that her field of fucks was barren at regular intervals. Vanessa still played the game, but I would never go against her given a choice. If anything, I was surprised Drew and his dad had survived as long as they had in a house they shared with two strong women.

“So… long story short, Drew’s crashing on the couch for a while. Bye!” Vi darted for the door.

“Wait, what?” I barely got the words out before the door swooshed shut behind her. She didn’t even pretend to care.

Back-to-back classes kept me busy the rest of the day. By the time I locked up the studio, I was pleasantly tired but dreading the night ahead.

Part of me was sympathetic to Drew’s plight. Not that long ago, I’d been the homeless urchin looking for a last-minute rental before the height of the season. But having him on our couch, even for a couple of days, was going to make ignoring him difficult. And I needed to keep my defenses up.

I could take myself out to dinner in town to avoid him, but that would be cowardly. Besides, Drew would probably work long hours and show up late. We’d barely see him.

My thoughts turned out to be more prophetic than I’d imagined. And somehow, that was so much worse. I kept looking at the clock, expecting Drew to show. Unable to focus on the K-drama Vi and I were bingeing.

“Relax. Drew texted me. He’s hanging out down at Harbor Brews. He asked me to leave extra bedding on the couch for him.”

I picked at the fringe on my blanket, avoiding Vi’s eyes. She already noticed too much.

He still hadn’t arrived by the time we turned off the TV. I frowned. Harbor Brews should have closed already.

“You can have the bathroom first. I’ll wait up for Drew.”

Why did I feel like a child being sent to bed early? My conflicting emotions were enough to make me feel foolish. I’d told him I wanted friendship. So why the urge to stay up, make sure he got home okay?

Shaking off the impulsive need to argue, I brushed my teeth. Not exactly dawdling, but not speeding through my bedtime routine either. When I couldn’t stall any longer, I called a quick goodnight to Vi and turned off my light.

So what if part of me listened for Drew, only relaxing when I heard his deep voice chatting with his sister in the living room?

***

Thursday morning, I popped out of bed, tiptoeing to the bathroom. Vi slept like the dead, but I didn’t want to wake Drew. Quietly, I got ready for work and slipped into the kitchen, peeking around the corner to the living room.

The couch was empty. The blankets neatly folded, a spare pillow resting on top. My palm slid over the pillow. Cool.

The pattern repeated itself all week. Under pain of death, I’d never admit I started setting my alarm five minutes earlier each day, trying to catch him. Somehow, he managed to appear for the night just after I went to bed and slip away before I awoke each day. Only the smell of his aftershave lingered in his wake.

It was maddening.

And confusing.

Because why was it irritating me so much?

We’d agreed to a simple friendship. I had no claim on his time. He should have been the perfect third roommate, more apparition than man. But it felt like he was avoiding me. And that hurt.

Thursday night, I’d just slipped beneath the covers when I heard him moving around in the living room. I could pop out for a glass of water. Say hi. But just as I talked myself into it, the noises stopped.

Dammit.

It’d be rude to wake him. And what was I doing, stalking him?

He’d gotten so far under my skin, it felt like a thorn pushing from beneath my soft flesh every time I missed seeing him. At the same time, I was sleeping better than I had in months. Even if I didn’t interact with Drew, his presence permeated the house without leaving any real trace of him behind. The toilet seat was always down. He tucked his stuff out of sight. The blankets were neatly folded each morning. He should have been easy to ignore.Maybe it was the way the kitchen trash and recycling were magically emptied every few days, or scent of fresh coffee when I woke up, but I felt cared for. Safe. Secure. Possibly for the first time ever.