Taking care of Jory was one of the most fulfilling parts of my life. It was a purpose and a calling unlike any other I'd experienced. I wanted to be the one to tend to his needs and provide him a quiet place to feel safe and settled because he needed that more than anything else.
I was the one who listened while he unpacked his worries, and I was the one who reminded him to eat, sleep, breathe when the world was too much. I was there when he needed to vent about his mother and sister, politics, and everything else that chafed at him. I did that. I was the one. If he thought someone else could do all that for him, he'd have to tell that to my face.
And my bare feet too.
And he'd do it just as soon as I landed at his front door.
The annoying part of living at Mallori's house west of the city was having to hop on the highway and drive thirty minutes in order to reach Jory's apartment in Quincy. It would've been a million times easier if he lived down the damn street because I was losing my steam with each minute.
Jory lived in a big, fancy house from some historical era, and it had been subdivided (and re-subdivided) into a lot of small apartments over time. It sounded like a nice idea but the whole thing was a pain in the ass. The parking sucked, for one, and the halls were comically narrow and dark. I lived in a basement—if I thought it was dark, it was fuckin' dark. On top of all that, the so-called apartments were a janky mess of chopped-up bedrooms and parlors and shit. The fuses were always blowing and the ventilation was horrible and there was never enough hot water.
Jory should've been living in a decent place with reliable parking and hallways that didn't look like the set of a horror movie. He needed a roommate who wasn't some obnoxious jack-off, someone who didn't make his life ten times more complicated with a load of rules and restrictions.
Now that I thought about it, Jory needed to live with me, not in some shoebox with scary halls. If he wasn't cheating on me, I was going to tell him exactly what I thought about this situation and demand some immediate changes.
Yeah. That was a mood. If someone handed me a dish of chocolate ice cream with chocolate jimmies right now, I'd argue about that too.
Because the universe was fucking with me today, I found a parking spot directly outside Jory's building. And since I was dead to rights about this place being totally unacceptable for him, the main door was wedged open with a brick.
It wasn't until I started jogging up the stairs that I realized I'd forgotten my shoes—again.
"Oh, fuck it all," I murmured as I rounded the next landing.
When I reached the third floor, I didn't bother stopping to catch my breath. I banged on the second to last door and rested my hands on my hips.
The door opened, and Claude, Jory's roommate, stood there, glowering at me. "Can I help you?"
"I'm here to see Jory and before you go to the trouble of telling me it's past visiting hours, I'll remind you he pays his rent on time, every time, and does more than his share of the communal chores. One late visitor isn't going to kill you and you know it."
Claude blinked rapidly as his lips parted. "Pardon me but—"
I stepped around him and headed toward Jory's room. I could hear him speaking as I approached but I was running on too much adrenaline to make sense of his words. I knocked once and reached for the doorknob. "Jory. It's me." I hesitated. Then, "I'm coming in."
From the other side of the door, I heard him saying, "Can you hold on a minute?"
I pushed the door open and found him holding a sheaf of papers, his phone pressed to his ear.
"Max, what—where are your shoes?"
"Fuck the shoes," I said, waving off that issue. "You—" For all my fuming on the ride over here, I couldn't remember what I'd meant to say. "You didn't text me back."
He held up a finger, saying into the phone, "I'll call you back. Okay? Yeah. Tonight. I will. Thanks so much." With that, he turned, set the phone and papers on a small desk tucked into the corner. "I was going to text you back, right after I wrapped up a few things. I was working on something." He pivoted, his hands loose at his sides as he considered me. "I promise, Max. It's not like I can forget about you."
I held out my hands and reached for him but couldn't leave the threshold. "What were you working on?"
Jory dipped his hands into his pockets. He was still dressed in the steel gray khakis and white button-down with tiny blue diamonds from school today. He'd abandoned his tie at some point and the buttons were open at his collar.
I wanted to lean in and lick my way up his throat to his sweet lips. Even when I didn't know what to believe, I still wanted him—and maybe that was what was wrong with me. Maybe I didn't know how to turn off my desire to love someone who I believed to be mine and listen to common sense.
"If I told you," Jory started, "it wouldn't be a surprise."
"Babe, I can't stand any more surprises." I pressed my palms to my eyes then blew out a huge breath as I raked my fingers through my hair. It was standing in a hundred different directions but that didn't matter. "I saw you. This afternoon."
He pushed his glasses up his nose, crinkled his forehead.
