Besides, he was getting really, really tired of sleeping in his car seat all night—it fucked with his back. He missed sleeping in an actual bed, he missed poaching eggs and frying steaks and just... having his own kitchen.
And this house promised a large kitchen, space he could really work with. He could install his own exercise machines instead of using the ones at the gym. He wouldn’t get gym regulars recognizing him, and asking him to spot for them when all he wanted was to get some water and go back to bed.
The only drawback was that he’d have O’Neil as his roommate.
O’Neil, who had been struggling with the barbell last night. O’Neil, who had fought with Gage at the park, and that fight had somehow aroused him. O’Neil, who, despite those awful insults that day, had not offended Gage any more.
Gage didn’t understand that man. But O’Neil got on his nerves for a reason he couldn’t explain. He’d been wondering why the hell O’Neil had been doing bench presses with more weights than he could handle. He’d wondered if O’Neil had still been working on the bike machines. He seemed to have lost a bit of weight since Gage last saw him.
We’ll give it a try, Gage told himself. A week. He could get a bed moved in, he could get out just as quickly if he needed.
He left his car and crossed the wide driveway, pressing the doorbell.
It took so long for O’Neil to answer that Gage almost thought he’d fallen asleep.
“Hi?” O’Neil opened the front door, looking flustered. He was barefoot, dressed in a worn T-shirt and shorts. “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d show up.”
Gage shrugged. He didn’t have much choice. “Mind if I move in today?”
O’Neil’s eyes widened. He stepped back, waving Gage into the house. “Sure. Go ahead. Here, I’ll show you your room.”
Gage followed him upstairs. There were about three regular-sized bedrooms on that level, not including the master bedroom. That particular room had its door ajar, and it smelled like honey oak in there. Next to it was the study. Two empty rooms sat on the other side of the hallway.
“Pick one. Or both.” O’Neil shrugged. “Do you need help moving your stuff?”
Gage shook his head. “I’ve got it. Thanks.”
O’Neil shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at the empty bedrooms. Then he looked at Gage for a second, before tearing his gaze away. Was it Gage, or had O’Neil’s entire face turned pink?
This didn’t have anything to do with his getting hard... did it?
“I’m heading out to make you a set of keys,” O’Neil said, turning away. “Text me if you need anything. You know my number.”
“Thanks.”
O’Neil hurried into his bedroom. Then he shut his door, and Gage breathed in the honey oak scent lingering throughout the house. He made his way downstairs, glancing around the spacious living room—just one couch in front of a big TV—and then the kitchen. That was fully-equipped; Gage didn’t even need to unpack his cooking appliances, maybe.
O’Neil hurried out of his room a few minutes later. Except he wasn’t dressed in the way Gage expected. O’Neil had brushed his hair and styled it, he’d put on a button-down shirt that fitted him pretty well, and... It felt like he’d dressed up for a semi-formal event.
He cleaned up well, actually. He looked different.
Gage had a bit of trouble tearing his eyes away. “I thought you were going to make some keys.”
“Uh. Yeah. I’ve got a couple more places to go.” O’Neil straightened his shirt collar, looking uncomfortable. Then he strode out of the house and drove off.
Gage unloaded his car, picking the room across from O’Neil’s study. He put away what little he had, took a quick shower, and then checked the fridge to see how much space he’d have for his own groceries.
An hour later, O’Neil returned with bags of stuff. He set them down in the kitchen and handed Gage a set of keys. “That’s for the front and back doors. I also got some food—I hope you’re okay with steaks and spinach.”
Gage blinked. Those steaks were expensive. Did O’Neil expect Gage to pay him back for them? “No, I’m fine. I can get my own food.”
O’Neil winced. “Are you a vegetarian?”
Gage didn’t want to say I can’t afford to eat entire steaks every day, but he wasn’t sure how he could put it across in a way that wasn’t awkward. “I prefer chicken.”
“Oh.” O’Neil looked sheepish. “I’ll get some chicken—”
“No, it’s fine. I can do it myself.”
A frown creased O’Neil’s forehead. “I can—”
“I don’t need you to wait on me,” Gage growled.
O’Neil stiffened, his face turning red. “Oh. Yeah. Okay. I’ll just—just put this away. You’re welcome to it, if you want.”
He fumbled a little, shoving the food haphazardly into the fridge. Then he took the last box with him—it was a clear package with what looked to be two slices of cake, along with a Ben’s Buns logo. O’Neil grabbed a fork and hurried out of the kitchen, retreating upstairs.
Guilt crept into Gage’s chest. He hadn’t meant to make O’Neil feel guilty. The guy was being nice. Why the hell had he dressed up, though? If he was just coming back home to eat some cake?
A thought struck Gage, one he’d briefly entertained but shoved aside: Maybe Ulric O’Neil... liked him.
It explained the erections. It explained the red faces. And the offer to let Gage be his roommate.
He insulted you. He could pull that crap again. You can’t trust him. Except Gage couldn’t help trusting that flusteredness, a little bit. You didn’t get flustered around people you didn’t like.
Gage left the house, heading to his self-storage place to pick up his mattress. He tied the mattress to his car, grabbed a few more things, and made it back to Meadow Street.
Halfway through maneuvering the mattress through the front door, O’Neil came down the stairs, frowning when he saw Gage. “You need help?”
“Actually, yeah.” Especially when it was something bulky like this.
They
