* * *
Late that afternoon, I leave the room and enter the kitchen in search of something to eat. The food had already been bought and will spoil as time goes by, so I might as well eat it. When I open the refrigerator, I gaze at the shelves filled with an assortment of foods. Before today, I’d had to scour dumpsters. Having this much in a refrigerator, just waiting to be eaten, is disconcerting. I’m not hungry enough for a full meal, so I decide on an orange and a bottle of water.
There isn’t a table, so I walk to the counter and set down the items. An unopened roll of paper towel is waiting to be used, and I unwrap the plastic. After I pull a sheet from the roll, I peel the fruit and discard the peelings on the paper towel.
I look around the kitchen curiously. I’d been in here once before when I’d looked around the apartment in search of unwanted surprises. This time, I take my time inspecting it.
The kitchen is spotless, but all the white sets the tone as impersonal. Sure, the stainless-steel appliances give it a sleek, modern look, but it doesn’t give the room a welcoming vibe. There’s just too much space and not enough character. I can’t help but wonder why the apartment hadn’t been furnished. The bed had been bought for me, but nothing else. I suppose that’s what the cash was for, and I find it odd. Devlin Kade has already taken it upon himself to make numerous decisions for me, so why not fill the apartment with ridiculous furniture? Either way, I have no intention of using the money to turn this into a place that I could call home.
When I take the first bite of the juicy orange, my eyes flutter closed as I savor it. It’s impossible to recall the last time I’d eaten an orange, but my enjoyment is overshadowed by the fact that it’d been bought by another—by someone that pities me and assumes I can’t care for myself. My eyes open and a frown tugs on my lips. All my life people have misjudged me, and I so badly want to prove him and everyone else wrong.
Movement draws my attention.
Carter’s standing by the French door, and he motions that he’d like me to follow him into the main room.
Has the roommate arrived? I’ve been waiting for this moment all morning and afternoon. Whoever he is, he’s the last piece to this bizarre puzzle.
I grab two orange slices and follow Carter into the other room. There’s a man in his early to mid-twenties standing there with three, large duffle bags at his feet. What the hell is up with all the attractive men around here? He’s about Carter’s height and looks like he belongs lounging on a beach somewhere. His hair is a light blond, and warm blue eyes gaze back at me from a very attractive face. When he smiles, dimples appear in both cheeks.
Well, shit.
This guy is supposed to be my babysitter? My eyes drop to take in his muscular frame encased in jeans and a vintage tee.
When my eyes lift back to his, he begins to sign to me in ASL. Hi Charli, I’m Keagan. It’s nice to meet you.
As odd as it sounds, the fact that he knows ASL has my earlier indignation fading—just a smidgen. I raise my hands to sign back, but I still have the two orange slices in my hands. I give him a polite smile before turning to Carter as I pop one of the slices into my mouth. My brow arches as if asking, “Are you going to leave now?”
He gives me a deliberate look, and I know it’s a warning to be careful with how much I reveal to Keagan. He then turns to Keagan and says something, shaking his hand. A second later, he’s walking to the door and leaving.
Now, I’m alone with the new stranger.
Keagan returns his attention to me and signs, Nice place you have.
Wanting to free up my hands, I slip the last slice of fruit into my mouth and begin signing back. You’ll have to tell Devlin Kade you like it. It’s his, not mine.
His blue eyes study mine intently before he responds. I was told that you’re a little…prickly over the situation.
Prickly? He doesn’t know the half of it. I didn’t ask for his help. Nor do I want a babysitter, I sign. I’d like him to know where I stand with this entire companion situation.
Keagan nods, looking unfazed by my unwelcoming attitude. Got it. I will try to remain respectful to your wishes, but you will have to keep in mind that I have a job to do and bills to pay, he reminds.
Are you deaf? I inquire, my eyebrows lifting with the question.
He signs, No. I have a Bachelors in Deaf Studies from LaGuardia Community College.
Of course, he’s not deaf. If he were, he wouldn’t be babysitting me. Look, I don’t really want to be here. This is all Kade’s idea, and as appealing as it might seem to someone else, I want nothing to do with this setup. Do you understand?
He regards me a moment before responding. I do, but I also understand you were living on the streets before this.
I was doing just fine! I sign with frustration.
Keagan slants me a look that states he disagrees. I think we should agree to disagree on that point, he signs.
I think this is a bad idea. You’re a complete stranger, and I’m supposed to trust you because Devlin Kade tells me to? You could be a serial rapist.
Keagan’s eyebrows shoot upwards, and he looks genuinely stunned by my comment. His hands quickly begin signing, Do I look like a serial rapist to you?
I scan him from head to toe and shrug. Rapists can come in all sorts of packages, even appealing ones. I know I’m being a bit of a bitch right now, but I think I have a right to be a tad grouchy.
I’m gay, Charli. I’m very happy with my longtime boyfriend, he signs with a firm look.
He’s gay. My eyebrows pull together. I don’t have a problem with his sexuality, and I’m relieved that I won’t have to worry about unwanted advances. What does bother me is Devlin Kade had thought of every possible detail when it comes to controlling my life.
Keagan’s waiting to see how I respond, and I sign, I don’t have a problem with your interest in men. Make yourself at home.
Keagan looks around, his brow crinkling. You have an aversion to furniture?
I give him a feral smile. I have an aversion to anything that I haven’t paid for myself. We’ll talk more later, I add. After I’ve relayed to him my thoughts on the topic, I leave the room and head for my own, firmly closing the door. This is my reality from here on out, and I don’t know how I’m going to handle it.
The rest of the evening, I avoid Keagan like he has the plague. I know it’s not fair, and it’s not his fault that he’d applied for a job that consists of basically babysitting me. Still, I just can’t bring myself to be a willing participant.
It’s late when I finally climb into the bed wearing just the panties and bra that’d been bought for me yesterday. I am in desperate need of spare clothing, but it hadn’t been a priority earlier. Tomorrow, I’ll buy a secondary set and look for a job. As much as I hate to admit it, and I won’t to anyone, but at least now I have a place of residence when I fill out applications. Leaving it blank has probably worked against me, so maybe the illusion will help me gain employment.
For a while, I toss and turn, but I can’t fall asleep. The conversation with Devlin keeps playing over and over in my mind, and it’s preventing me from relaxing. I’m bothered that I hadn’t had a chance to share my opinion about anything he’d decided for me.
I shift and sit up, pulling the phone out from beneath the pillow. Earlier, I’d figured out how to set the alarm so that the vibration will hopefully wake me in the morning. I turn on the phone and swipe the screen. After I find my very short contacts list, I click on Devlin’s name. I’m supposed to text Carter first if I need anything, and I smirk. Too bad. I type, I don’t like Keagan. I want to see his reply. So far, Keagan seems like a nice guy, and I like that he’d given me space and had left me alone after our first and only conversation. Devlin doesn’t need to know that, though. I press ‘send’ and wait.
He probably won’t respond.
A minute goes by, and I scowl. I wonder if calling him names would draw his attention.
When the phone vibrates in my hand, I jump slightly. He’d responded, and I read his text. You just met him, it’s too soon to form an opinion.
I roll my eyes and send back, I formed my opinion of you the second I laid eyes on you, and so far, that opinion stands correct.
Text me when you have something important to say. This conversation is inconsequential.
My lips flatten. You don’t own me, and you can’t control my feeling and actions.
His response is almost immediate. I do own you, Charli. The second I decided your life should be spared is the very moment I chose to keep you.
My mouth falls open with indignation, and my fingers fly across the small keyboard. You can’t just decide to own a person.
Good night, Charli.
I send, Asshole! with an emoji of a middle finger. When I’d set the phone’s alarm, I’d been bored and had skimmed through all the emojis that came with it.
When the phone doesn’t vibrate in my hand with his reply, I restrain the urge to throw it at the wall. As much as I don’t want anything from him, I can’t deny that the text messaging is useful.
I expel a frustrated breath and drop back onto the pillow, glaring up into the darkness of the room.