Page 4

Chapter Four

It's crazy how fast someone can pack up an entire apartment when they're threatened with eviction. It's all very motivating.

"Thanks again for helping me move," I say the next day, carrying one end of my mattress while Dad carries the other up the stairs.

"Any time, sweetheart, you know that," he grunts.

"Maybe next time give us a little more notice?" asks Mom, lugging a box up behind us. "If you'd told us earlier this week when you found out, we could have gotten a few more people to help us."

"Sorry, with all the planning and packing, it completely slipped my mind.

" I hate lying to my parents, but I don't want them to know how bad my situation is.

If they knew, they'd try to convince me to move home and give college a go.

Most of my friends went that route, but it's not for me. I want to be a writer.

Or they would try to give me money. Which they definitely don't have.

"Our daughter has a lot on her mind, love," says Dad, always willing to protect and defend me. I can do no wrong in his eyes. "She has all of her stories and business things, and then the day-to-day stuff too. I'm sure it's a lot to keep track of."

His words are sweet, but they cut even deeper than if he'd agreed with Mom. They can't find out that I'm broke or about to move in with five guys I met because of a flyer. It'd break their hearts.

"All I'm saying is, then we could have picked a day that her new roommates would be home to help, is all," rebuts Mom. To her the world is black and white and it's everyone's duty to help everyone else. And she is not okay with anyone shirking their portion of the heavy lifting of life.

"They have a weird work schedule." Please don't ask what they do for a job , I think. That would not impress my parents. "And I had to work around when my critique group meets."

"Well, I hope we at least get to meet them some day," says Dad, lugging more boxes up the steps to stack them carefully in one corner of my new room.

It's a bit of a disaster area, but Dad's trying to keep it as organized as possible so we can still move around in the small space.

Chicago is not known for its spacious bedrooms.

"I'd like that." I smile at my parents. We're all sweaty from the heavy lifting, and because it's the last nice day between summer and fall, but they came through for me when asked and I love them all the more for it.

I even mean what I say. I've always been close to my parents and would love for them to know my roommates.

But only as roommates, and I'm not ready for them to meet before these gamers know that I'm keeping my parents in the dark about this single small aspect of my life.

I don't want them to let anything slip in front of them.

Okay, maybe two aspects of my life, since I'm not going to tell them about my slight genre shift, either.

They're already weirded out that I write romance books with fade-to-black love scenes.

To tell them I'm going to switch to high-heat romances with all the spice might give them an aneurysm.

There are just some things we don't talk about in our family, and my sex life or sex fantasy life are definitely on that list.

"Do you need help setting up anything else? Or unpacking?" asks Mom, eyeing the towering stacks of boxes along the wall.

"No, I'm good. Thanks though," I assure them. "We already have the bed set up and I'm not sure exactly how I'm going to arrange the rest of the room yet. There's no rush though, I can do a little bit every day as I make those decisions."

It's starting to get late and I'm not sure how long this ARAM my new roommates mentioned takes because I don't know exactly what it is. My parents need to be out the door and on the road before they finish and come out of their computer room, though.

"We have a long drive, then," says Dad, pulling me into a hug. He's sweaty and so am I, but there's so much love in these arms. "We love you, sweetheart. You call us if you need anything."

"Thanks, Dad." I completely believe him. My parents would rescue me the way they think I need rescuing, but I want to do this on my own. Prove to myself that I'm an adult and can stand on my own two feet.

Well, with the help of my five new boyfriends.

"Take care of yourself, Clarissa." Mom pulls me into the quickest hug imaginable. She turns away to head downstairs, but I swear I catch her wiping her eyes behind her glasses, even if she is trying to be discreet about it.

I follow my parents to the front door and wave goodbye from the top of the stoop as they drive away. As soon as they turn a corner and are out of sight, I close the door and slump against it. I'm absolutely exhausted from rushing around and doing an entire move in one day.

Trudging back up the stairs, I dig through the boxes labeled “bathroom” until I find my shower things. Right now, I'm really grateful for having my own en suite so I don't have to worry about interacting with any of my roommates or being caught unprepared.

As I wash the sweat from my body, I think that this house might be a little run down, but at least it has amazing water pressure.

Once I'm clean, I feel better. I have a place to live and a path forward. However, because my packing was so chaotic, I can only find a hand towel to dry myself off. Unpacking is definitely moving up on my list of priorities.

Walking out into my bedroom to look for one of the boxes with my clothes, I am met with a sight that has me scrambling to cover as much of myself with my tiny towel as possible.

Ethan is standing in the middle of the room looking around as if it's a museum and not my bedroom.

I guess their whatever-it-is is over then.

"Can I help you?" I try to remember if I'd closed my door or not. I'm so tired though, I can't remember. Either way, my door is standing wide open now. And I don't want to tell him off for not knocking if I'd left the door open in invitation to anyone passing by.

"So, are you our girlfriend now?" Ethan has a soft voice. I realize this is the first time I'm hearing it. He looks even more uncertain than I am about this situation.

"I … guess so?" I dig a little through the nearest box for anything I can use to cover myself up while glancing back at the bathroom. Which option would hide me quicker?

"I pentakilled today," says Ethan, fisting the ends of his sleeves over his hands.

He says it so simply, I can't help but stop my search and look up. "Is that good or bad? Because I don't know what that means."

"It's good." Ethan nods, more to himself than to me since he's still not looking at me. "Can I kiss you then?"

Clearly we're starting right away with all the benefits of being in the middle of a relationship. None of the get-to-know-each-other first dates. Just right into the deep end.

Unless Ethan really means he only wants a kiss, and nothing more.

Part of me wants to say no. I've had a rough day, making a big, life-changing decision and moving my entire life into this room. But this is the agreement. I'm their girlfriend and I need to make myself available as they requested.

"… Okay." I suppose there's no better time to hold up my end of the bargain and start my own research. I can do this. I just need to pull on my big girl pants and kiss this stranger I just moved in with.

Except I guess I can't pull up my big girl pants, because I can't find any of the boxes with my clothing in it, but the point still stands.

"Okay," repeats Ethan as he shuffles over to where I'm standing, still shielding myself with the hand towel.

Ethan places his hands on my bare shoulders.

It's a little bit shocking—I knew it was coming, his touching my bare skin, but it's still a surprise.

He's focused on my lips, and I can't help but stare at his own.

At the way he bites his bottom lip a little in anticipation, so when he moves closer there's the tiniest markings where his teeth were a moment ago.

He's moving so slowly, it's making me more anxious, and I just want to get this first time out of the way. Thinking about something and prepping for it is painful. Let's rip the BandAid right off this entire situation so I am no longer freaking out, and can no longer back out.

Leaning forward ever so slightly, I meet Ethan's lips with my own.

I capture his mouth in a kiss that's both tentative and warm.

His lips are plush and the perfect amount of moist, with a slight hint of mint.

It makes me wonder if he made the effort of a special trip to the bathroom to use mouthwash and rolled on a sheen of lip balm.

He's not a bad kisser.

I slip my tongue along his lips and Ethan eagerly joins, taking this kiss deeper.

I thought I wouldn't like it, that I'd have to treat this as a job.

But if one of the very few first dates I've gone on gave me a goodnight kiss like this, I would have agreed to a second date so fast. It only feels natural to wrap my arms around his neck, letting my fingers delve into the back of his blond, wavy hair.

Gasping a little, I realize I've dropped my towel to my feet and am completely naked before this man whom I've essentially just met.

Ethan slips his tongue past my lips and the student becomes the master as he explores the possibilities of our kiss.

He's either a quick learner or has plenty of experience.

Initially, I'd been cataloging feelings for my writing, but now I'm just experiencing it.

There's so much more to explore, to research.

How deep into this situation am I willing to go, and how fast?

Am I going to hold my new supposed boyfriends off for as long as possible, thereby denying me access to hands on research?

Or am I fully committing to this new path that I've chosen, starting right now?

My hands run down the front of Ethan's shirt until they land on the drawstring of his pants.