Elliot
She’s only lived here for a few weeks, but there’s already a palpable air of comfort and familiarity in our house. We’ve grown to really like each other’s company, probably a little too much—the relationship we’ve established is unlike any I’ve had with previous roommates, and I’ve had plenty in my four years at Iowa.
We’re both private, preferring to be home where it’s quiet.
We both laugh at dumb comedies.
Since she moved in, we’ve made dinner together more nights than not—spaghetti, soup, pasta, hamburgers on the charcoal grill I have on the back stoop.
We like each other.
A lot.
And we agree that maintaining our older friendships is more important than forcing ourselves to make new ones. I’m about to graduate, and I’m applying for master’s programs. Anabelle is a second semester junior transfer with a bunch of friends from Massachusetts. My friends might have graduated, but they’re still in the area and still in contact.
Partying isn’t my scene, and it isn’t Anabelle’s either.
So, it’s a surprise that one evening when we’re both getting ready to park our asses on the couch and watch TV, there’s a knock on the front door.
A loud, masculine knock.
“Hey!” Anabelle calls out, sticking her head out from behind the bathroom door. “I just got out of the shower—did you hear that knocking, or am I imagining things?”
“No, I heard it too,” I call out from the desk I hauled back into my room when she moved in. Setting down my pencil, I rise, starting for the door. “Don’t come out until you’ve got clothes on.”
“Yes, Dad.”
She couldn’t have said anything more ironic.
Because standing on the front porch when I pull open the door is Coach Donnelly.
I recognize him immediately—I’ve seen him numerous times in the course of Oz and Zeke’s wrestling careers, having attended many of their home meets and seen his face on the television during live broadcasts.
“Sir.”
I push open the glass storm door so he can step inside.
And he does, wasting no time, stepping into the living room, onto the welcome mat Anabelle laid out the weekend she moved in.
It’s round and blue and says Hello, You Look Nice Today!
Her father steps in the center of it, his presence filling the doorway, not looking nice at all.
“Who the hell are you?” He wastes no time with pleasantries.
“I’m Elliot, sir. You must be Anabelle’s father. I’m a friend of Zeke Daniels and Sebastian Osborne—their old roommate, actually.”
“What are you doing in my daughter’s house? Are you dating her?”
“Uh, no. Not exactly.”
“Where is Anabelle? I only have a little bit of time.” He jingles a set of car keys in his hand. “The bus pulls out for Ohio in an hour.”
“She’s just getting out of the shower.”
Shit. Wrong thing to say.
Coach’s lips pucker, bushy brows dipping into an unpleased glower.
He squints at me. “What did you say your name was?”
I open my mouth to respond when my roommate breezes into the room—thank fucking God—to rescue me from her father, throwing her arms around him, looking fresh and clean and smelling even better.
Her hair is wrapped in a bright white towel, turban-style on her head, slender body swathed in her gray, silky bathrobe.
Coach’s glower gets darker.
Jesus, is she trying to get me killed by wearing that damn thing? Coach looks murderous.
“Dad! Why didn’t you tell me you were stopping by?”
“I didn’t realize I had to.” He shoots me an icy glare, glancing between Anabelle and me. “Where is your roommate? Are the two of you here alone?”
“Well, funny story about that…” She stares down at her narwhal slippers, giving them a wiggle.
I’d think it was a totally cute move if her father wasn’t standing in our doorway hating on me.
“Funny story about what, young lady? Cut to the chase.”
“Dad, you didn’t stop by to yell at me, did you? I think we still have some leftovers from dinner if you’re hungry?”
“Answer me, Anabelle. Who is this kid? That’s the bullshit I’m trying to wade through here.”
“Should we go into the kitchen to talk?”
“No. I’m not moving from this spot until you start talking.”
There’s an awkward stretch of silence before I excuse myself, taking a few cautious steps toward my bedroom. “Okay, well, I’ll just go make myself scarce so you two can have some privacy. You won’t even know I’m here.”
“You stand right there, son. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Dad, how do you know this isn’t my boyfriend?”
“Is it?”
“Well, no…”
“Then explain to me, if this isn’t your boyfriend, why he’s in this house and you’re wearing a bathrobe.” Coach crosses his meaty arms across a brawny chest. “Go on. I’ve got thirty minutes.” He raises his forearm, staring down at his watch. “Go.”
“See, the thing is—remember that night I didn’t come home and stayed with a friend?”
Her dad gives a jerky nod.
“This is that friend.”
When she moves to stand next to me, I back away slowly, afraid to get too close, not wanting to set Coach Donnelly off. She’s wearing a sexy robe for fuck’s sake. The last thing I want is him getting the wrong idea.
Her hands move, gesturing as she explains. “And he was living here all on his own, with a spare room he’d turned into an office. When I saw it, I thought it would be perfect converted into a bedroom.”
Her old man glares at me as if it was my evil intention to lure his daughter into my den of sin from the beginning. “How convenient.”
“I know, right?” Anabelle, bless her heart, doesn’t hear the sarcasm in her father’s voice, too relieved that she’s finally able to tell him the truth. “So I asked him if I could move in. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Daddy, but I thought you’d freak out.”
“Freak out,” he deadpans, looking me up and down as only a father can. “So you lied, because I specifically remember you saying your roommate’s name was Ellie.”
“I might have?” She chews on her thumbnail.
“I guess with a name like Ellie, I didn’t realize you came with a penis. I assumed you’d have a vagina.”
“Oh my god, Dad!”
“Well, I’ve heard very little about him, what did you expect?” Coach shrugs his solid shoulders, studying the living room.
“Now would be a good time to say something, son.”
“I honestly had no idea you didn’t know she was living with a guy, sir. We never talked about it.”
“Is that so.”
Anabelle lays a hand on her dad’s arm. “I swear, he didn’t know. I never told him about our discussion. I was just so excited, and Elliot—that’s his name—has been so great. It’s like living with a girl.”
Awesome.
“He’s been the best.”
Once again, Coach Donnelly trails his eyes up and down my body, scoping me out, shoulders relaxing with a sigh of relief. “So you’re saying he’s gay.”
Anabelle’s laugh is light and twinkling. “No, I didn’t say that.”
“This is lying by omission. You led me to believe you were living with another young lady. How many times did you call him Ellie during our conversations?”
My brows go up.
She did?
“Dad, he’s the best roommate I’ve ever had. Please just give it a chance, okay? I’m not moving out. Elliot is my friend, and I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”
“Not even when you were in Mass?”
“No, not even then. I don’t want you to be mad, okay? I want you to trust me.”
“Even though you lied, you want me to trust you.”
“Dad, it was one little white lie—I never actually said I was living with a girl.”
“Young lady,” he warns, tone low.
“All right, all right, I was wrong. I’m sorry.” She sidles up to her dad, putting an arm around his waist, squeezing. “Dad, this is my roommate Elliot. Elliot, this is my dad.”
Jesus, could this be any more fucking awkward?
There’s a knock on my door and before I can respond, a set of delicate hands are easing it open, Anabelle sticking her head through the crack, pert nose playing peekaboo.
“Are you decent? Is it safe to come in?”
I laugh. “Yeah, it’s safe.”
She pushes it all the way open. “Thank God—I’d die if I ever walked in on you. That’s like, breaking roommate code, right?”
“Uh, that must be a girl thing, cause I wouldn’t really give a shit. I’ve showered with a room full of guys.”
“Oh, good point.”
I swivel toward her in my chair, tossing my pencil on the flat surface of my desk. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to come in and apologize again for what happened earlier with my dad. I know it was a real shitty situation to put you in.”
“Not gonna lie, Anabelle, it was fucking awkward. I felt like a ten-year-old being scolded, and I didn’t even do anything wrong.”
“I know.”
I look at her now, standing near the door, her long hair dry, hanging in loose waves. Eyes bright and alert and lined in black. Concerned—for me. She inches closer, dressed in jeans and an Iowa sweatshirt, feet bare. I can’t help fixating on her toes, the long length of her legs, the pretty sight of her pink glossy lips.
Guilty, I glance away, staring up at the trophies lining my wall on a shelf my dad helped me build at the beginning of the year when I moved all my shit into this dump.
Anabelle closes the space between us, inviting herself farther into my room, perching on the edge of my bed, making herself comfortable like we’re familiar, like we’ve chatted like this a million times before.
“Are you going somewhere tonight?” I ask curiously, changing the subject.
“Yes, just for a little bit.” She leans back, resting with her elbows on my quilt, swinging her legs off the end of my bed. “I met this girl in one of my classes and we really hit it off. She just texted me and thought we could meet up and have a coffee or something.”
Coffee at night? Anabelle is going to be flying off the walls later.
She reads my mind. “Don’t worry, I’ll drink hot chocolate or something. She just wants to talk—I don’t think she has many friends, either.”
“Which class?”
“It’s one of the science classes I needed to fulfill a gen-ed requirement—biology. She’s actually one of the TAs.”
“This isn’t going to be a repeat of the night I brought you home that first time, is it?”
Anabelle groans. “I can’t believe you’re bringing that up, and no, it’s not going to be a repeat because we are just going to sit and talk at a coffee shop.”
“Whatever, it’s none of my business.”
My roommate leans over, patting my leg. “Yeah, sure it isn’t.”
“For real. It’s none of my business.”
“Oh come on—you don’t take an active interest in what I do? Don’t lie, we spend all our time together.”
That’s true. We have been spending a lot of time together. “Fine. Maybe I do give a shit about what you do, but only because I care and want you to be safe.”
“Right, only because you want me to be safe.”
Anabelle stares me down, blue eyes boring into me at the end of the bed, biting back a smile, wanting to say something else. I can see it in the way she’s worrying her bottom lip, in her eyes—the twinkle in them.
But she doesn’t just blurt out whatever she’s thinking.
I admire that about her, the fact that she doesn’t just say what’s on her mind, that she knows when and how much to say. She’s not nosy and she’s not overly tenacious; that in itself makes me want to tell her things I wouldn’t share with anyone else.
“Anyway, I should go. I just wanted to pop in and tell you again how sorry I am for what happened when my dad was here, but you understand why I didn’t tell him, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“I really wanted to live here and I didn’t want him to try to stop me. He would have had no problem with a female, which is dumb because living with girls has been nothing but drama. This has been like a vacation.” She pauses. “Well, except for tonight. That was embarrassing.”
“It’s fine. It’s over.” And hopefully he won’t be back to give us a hard time, because I really don’t want her moving out, either.
I like having her here.
The house wouldn’t be the same without her.
It certainly wouldn’t smell as good.
“No more drama, I promise.”