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“Just until you get settled into your job,” he says in a reasonable tone. “After that, we can renegotiate the rent.”
I’m not convinced. “This is your room. You’ve been working on it for months,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t—”
Now he smiled. “See this?” he says, pointing toward the beautiful bay window I’d been admiring. “The light from this window is amazing. It’s the perfect place to set up your easel.”
My heart stuttered in my chest. He was willing to give up this amazing room so I can have the perfect place to paint. “It’s also the perfect place to set up a drafting table.”
He shrugs. “It’s worth giving up if I can use the air conditioner,” he says. “As it stands, I don’t want to turn it on because I don’t want to jack up the bar’s electric bill. An extra two-hundred bucks a month will cover the difference.”
What he’s saying makes sense. Hearing it makes me feel better about taking advantage of him. Because I’m not taking advantage of him. We’re helping each other out. I’ve almost managed to convince myself when he speaks up again.
“The only catch is that the bed stays.” He looks at the bed in the middle of the room, pulled away from the wall so he could paint. “It’s too big for my room and it took me, Con and Declan to get it up here,” he says with a laugh. “I don’t think I can talk them into another move.”
I look at the bed and think of my own pitiful super single. The same bed I’ve been sleeping in since I was fourteen years old. I’d gladly leave it on the curb.
I can feel myself caving. Who was I kidding? I knew I was going to say yes. I couldn’t say no to Patrick if I tried. “Only if you’re sure.”
Knowing he’s worn me down, Patrick gives me a satisfied smile. “We’re friends—this is what friends do for each other, right?”
Friends. Right.
“Right.” I swallow the lump in my throat and nod my head. “So, when can I move in?”