Page 4 of The Sunday Brothers Novellas

John froze in his crouch by the sofa. “You’re on the third floor?”

“I didn’t say? Yes, third floor. I just got the keys a few hours ago from the guy who was moving out.

” The words came tumbling from my mouth with a combination of nerves and excitement.

“These old buildings are full of charming details, but I can’t lie, an elevator would’ve been nice.

I carted a bunch of boxes up here earlier, and it was a workout , let me just tell you. Ready? One, two?—”

John lifted the sofa a beat late but managed to steady it. “Wait, hang on. Which apartment did you?—?”

But I kept going. “You know that expression beggars can’t be choosers?

Well, that was me. This place opened exactly when I needed it, for exactly the price I could afford—I told you my friend knew a guy who was leaving Boston midsemester and needed someone to take over his half of a lease, right?

I mean, what are the chances? Finland , for goodness’ sake. ”

“The chances are slim,” John whispered. “I would have said impossibly slim. But the probability of improbability is…” He shook his head as if to clear it.

“Well. That’s a subject for another day.

Suffice it to say, I couldn’t have calculated it.

Hey, lift your end high? We need to tilt it over the… yeah. Nicely done.”

I successfully maneuvered my end of the sofa over the banister on the second floor, despite my muscles burning. But his comment reminded me of something he’d told Martin. “You couldn’t calculate it… despite your many graduate degrees?”

“What? Oh.” John’s blush from earlier came back with a vengeance. “Yeah, that was kinda braggy, huh? Sorry you heard that.”

God, this man was too pure to live, and I felt a sudden pang at the idea that he was just going to walk out of my life once we dropped off the sofa.

But what if you’re wrong, Teagan?

What if you’re wrong?

What if you’re wrong?

I was getting tired of the Fern-voice already. I hated not trusting myself. But now that it was in my head, I also didn’t know how to make it stop.

“Um. I don’t suppose you drink coffee ever?” I asked as we hiked up the second staircase and around the landing. “It’s just, I work at Campus Connections when I’m not TAing, and I thought maybe you could stop by and we could…”

I broke off when I realized John was looking at me strangely. Like I was missing something. Like maybe I’d misread things.

I swallowed hard. “…grab a cup of coffee in a friendly way,” I backtracked. “Just a pair of acquaintances who are acquainted. Very platonic friends, obvi. Not in a remotely date-like way, since I’m, you know…”

“A desiccated husk?” John volunteered.

My face flamed. “Yes. Exactly.” I cleared my throat. “Well, here we are. Three-oh-eight. If you can just help me get it inside, I’m sure that when my new roommate gets home, he can help me arrange?—”

“You should back up a little further,” John interrupted. “Let me head in first. The living room’s not that wide, and we won’t have much room to turn it once we’re in there. ”

“Oh.” I frowned at the exterior wall of the apartment, reluctantly impressed. “That’s some serious spatial awareness. I wish I had a math brain.”

John huffed out a laugh and set down his end of the couch, and I followed suit. “No, you don’t. It’s a bunch of hamsters running in wheels, night and day. Yours seems exponentially more fun.”

I highly doubted that. Especially when it was replaying Fern’s voice at double speed, like a chipmunk on helium.

You’re gonna fall for this guy, because you won’t be able to help yourself, and you’re gonna convince yourself it’s love when it’s not, and one of you will end up with your heart broken…

Damn it, Fern.

“Hang on. Let me get out my keys.” I reached into the pocket of my tight jeans.

Once again, John looked at me a little strangely, but then he smiled, reached into his pocket, produced his own keys, and inserted them into the lock.

“So, um… you were mentioning slim odds?” He shrugged offhandedly. “It looks like I’m your new roommate.”

“Nope,” I responded immediately and, it must be said, irrationally, given the whole key-in-the-lock evidence. “That can’t be. Ben said his roommate is impossible to talk to, and you’re…”

John blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean. Ben’s not entirely wrong. I, ah… I definitely didn’t get the memo that he was going back to Finland this week, so…”

I laughed a little bit hysterically and rubbed both hands over my face. This was terrible. This was impossible. How the hell was I going to stay away from this guy—this incredibly attractive, incredibly wonderful guy—if we were living together?

“So you’re not my brother Jace’s friend,” I said, stating the obvious .

John shook his head and braced the door open with a stopper. “But I’m sure he’s a great guy. You ready?”

I sighed but bent obediently to pick up my end of the couch. “He’s really not. He’s kind of a dick. Which honestly should have been my first clue that you weren’t his friend.”

We walked the couch into the room, where Ben’s missing sofa had left a vacant spot that was the perfect size for mine, and set it down one final time.

John dusted his hands in a satisfied way and stood back to look at the setup. “It looks great. The green looks awesome with the hardwood floor.”

It really did. But I still had so many questions.

“John, you didn’t even know I was your roommate. Why in the world did you help a perfect stranger move a sofa?” Who the heck did that?

“Well…” He darted an almost nervous glance at my face. “Because you seemed like an interesting person? Like a guy who needed a friend? And I was available.” He shrugged.

“That simple?”

“Sure. It doesn’t have to be complicated, T.” He took a seat, then slid back with a delighted groan and ran his hand over the green tufted armrest. “Holy shit, is this hand-tooled leather?”

“It… yes. It is.”

“Mmmm.” He closed his eyes and smiled sleepily. “This really is the best couch ever.”

I snorted. This whole situation was… it was beyond ridiculous. Still, I felt my mouth curl up in a smile I couldn’t have stopped even if I wanted to.

“So you want us to be… friends?” I clarified, testing the word on my tongue.

John’s eyes opened, and he frowned a little, like he was looking for the catch. “Uh… yes? Why not?”

All the reasons why not—six feet and several glorious inches of why not—were splayed out right there on my sofa with his feet propped up on the coffee table. His sturdy legs, his killer smile, his big hands that had made my body warm all over the one and only time he’d touched me through my shirt .

Could I really go a whole year without twisting friendship into something it wasn’t?

But what was the alternative? Having this sweet man walk out of my life entirely?

And maybe it would be easier than I thought. Heck, maybe the man wasn’t even gay.

Pick one, Teagan Donahue: friendship or nothing.

“Why not,” I agreed, plunking myself down on the opposite end of the sofa and propping my feet on the coffee table, too. “Let’s be super-platonic roommate friends.”

John’s bright smile sent ripples of warmth through my stomach, chasing away my doubts… at least for the moment.

“We know your thoughts on sourdough,” I said pensively. “But how do you feel about karaoke with mediocre but enthusiastic singers?”

“Well. Back in Vermont, I once dated a guy who was an award-winning pig caller…”

Fuck. So, not straight, then.

But also… weirdly fascinating.

“I can learn to love it,” John promised solemnly.

Then I would try my very best not to fall in love with him .

I leaned across the space between us and rested a hand on his shoulder, one bro to another. “John Curran,” I vowed, “I am going to be the very best friend you’ve ever had.”

And I kept the hell out of that promise…

Until the day I fucked it all up.