Jonah’s pillow smells like sexy and unrequited teenage love. Mine. I literally and metaphorically release my hold on it. If he's going to be my roommate, I can't let his appeal affect me. How did I even get here? I knew I shouldn't have had those shots. But, I was so nervous being around Jonah, I needed something. I push back the thick, navy comforter and climb out of his big, comfy bed. No hangover and fully clothed, thank God.

Jonah’s very neat, I notice as I leave his room and walk down the short hallway into the living room. His place isn't cluttered or littered with junk, and it has personality. High vaulted ceilings, hardwoods, and an open floor plan.

I tiptoe into the kitchen and try not to disturb a sleeping Jonah on the couch. Poor guy. I don’t even remember kicking him out of his bed last night. Hopefully he doesn't take last night as an indication of what type of roommate I'll be.

I’ll make up for it by cooking him a great breakfast. I cross the tile and open the stainless fridge to see what he's got. Judging by the contents, he's not a health nut, another pro in the roomie department. It feels a little weird to be rifling through his fridge, but I grab eggs and bacon and slide them on the granite countertop, then quietly go through cabinets locating a skillet. By the time breakfast is almost ready, I have everything set up on the island. Juice is poured, coffee is brewing, plates are waiting to be filled, I just need Jonah.

“What's all this?” his gruff morning voice asks.

I turn from the stove. Ok, I can do this. Morning Jonah, barefoot with rumpled hair, glasses, tee and basketball shorts that hang on his lean hips just right, is a little overwhelming.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” I greet him.

“Great, a morning person,” he mumbles, grabbing a coffee mug with cute, little cameras all over it.

I take it from him and fill it. “You look like you want to shoot someone.” I hold the mug out. “Get it?”

“Oh Lord.” He takes the mug from me. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Are you working today?”

“Yeah. In a little bit.” He takes a seat at the island. “You?”

“I have today off, so I was thinking I could pack up my stuff from my place.” I hesitate, because what if he changed his mind. “It’s still ok I move in, right?” Please say yes. I hold my breath waiting for his answer.

“Yeah, of course. I like waking up to breakfast every morning.” He raises his hand and gives me a thumb up. “You stay. Get it?”

What is he doing? “Um,” I tilt my head, “was that a joke?”

His hand drops. “Gladiator. The movie. He lives, he dies. Never mind.” I dish out some scrambled eggs and bacon onto his plate. “I just figured your wanting to be a movie star and all.”

“Well, I’ve seen it, but it was boring.”

“Oh my God,” He gives me a thumb down. “She leaves.”

I laugh. “Come on. The movie is boring. Everyone knows that.”

“You’re twisting my heart and driving a wooden spatula through it.” He clutches his chest.

“Now quote a good movie, and I can play along.”

“That was a good movie,” he deadpans.

I smile, glancing over his head into the living room and point the spatula at the far-hanging framed picture of rusted, weathered tracks, with no end point in sight. “I really like that.”

He turns on the stool and points to the photo over the couch. “That one? I took it.”

Wow. It's not an ordinary photo. Haze lingers on the well-worn tracks, like laughter drifting from the passengers on their way to their destination. “Really? It’s great. Makes me think of all the places I want to go,” I muse.

“It’s the old railroad tracks.”

“Jonah, it really is amazing. Do you sell them?”

He shrugs. “Nah. Maybe someday.”

He digs into the eggs and gives a little ‘Mmm.’ They’re really good, if I do say so myself.

“If you cook like this all the time, I might like having you around,” he says with a wink.

We finish off breakfast, and he drops me off at my car. After giving me explicit instructions not to touch his office, he passes me the key so I can move my things in. It's official, we’re roommates.

* * *

“I’m moving in with Jonah,” I text Gidget, unable to believe it myself.

I wait for the call I know is coming. She doesn't disappoint, and I answer on the first ring.

“Jo-who?” she asks. “Why don't I know about this person?”

“You do. The photographer at Bunny Hunnies,” I remind her. “Declan’s best friend. Let me mention, gorgeous best friend,” I add, pulling into the driveway of my cottage.

“Ohhhh. Fill me in. How did that happen?”

“Well, last night when you ditched me,” I tease, “it just sort of came up.”

Stepping into my place is like stepping in to controlled chaos. I survey all the things strewn about the living room.

“First, I didn’t ditch you. I was sick,” she says. “Second, I’m pissed because I missed meeting him.”

“Well, there’s more. Want to come over and help me move? I’ll buy you lunch. Are you feeling better?”

“Much better. I have to run in to work later. There's a crisis with one of the Skittle Skattle Doo’s choreography,” she says. “Apparently, I have to make it easier. As if.”

I laugh. “Well, let them try your moves in a dog costume.”

“Truth,” she says, laughing. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

While I wait for her, I gather a few things and stuff it into trash bags. Fancy mover, I know. I can't believe I'm really doing this. Did I say that already? Because I really can't believe I'm doing this. Part of me wanted to turn down the offer, because, although he may have been my crush, I don’t know the man. But, the other part knows things will be easier because he lives so much closer to work and auditions. Pros and Cons.

I shower and get ready in record time just before Gidget knocks on the door. Her petite, dark haired frame breezes past me in black leggings and a ‘Dance Or We Can’t Be Friends’ t-shirt.

“Did you sleep with him?” she asks.

I lead her into the living room. “Well…technically, we did sleep in the same bed.”

Her hazel eyes grow to epic proportions. “Chelsea,” she exclaims.

I shake my head. “It wasn’t like that. I had too much to drink, and he brought me to his place. But, his couch was awful. Ever sleep on leather?” I snicker a little, but it really wasn't funny. “So, I guess I moved to his bed.”

She perches on the arm of the recliner. “What did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything. Not that I wanted him to anyway.”

“Hm.” She stands, grabs a shirt off the couch and stuffs it into the large, black bag.

“What?”

She shakes her head, and a few long curls escape from the messy bun on top of her head. “No, it’s a good thing nothing happened. First, you’re living with him now.” She picks up a sandal and tosses it into the sack.

“And second?” I ask, grabbing the other sandal.

“Well, there is no second. He’s your roommate should be big enough.”

“You’re right.” Hopefully my body heeds this wisdom. “And his place is so nice,” I continue with the pros of ignoring any attraction to him. “Plus, we work together.”

“Exactly. Look but don't touch.”

She’s right. I have one mission. Working on a major production is my dream. Bunny Hunnies is a stepping stone onto the road of that dream. I can’t screw things up by banging the photographer at work. No, that will never help my reputation. Besides, he would never see me that way.

So, I put all thoughts of Jonah away. All the sexual thoughts of how sensual he is. All late-night fantasies I still hold onto from my teenage years when he would stay the night, and I’d imagine him and I together.

Hey, I was young. No judging.

We finish grabbing my things, load everything into my car, and drive across town to Jonah’s. Well, I guess now it’s my place, too.

Gidget helps me unload the car, and together we bring everything inside.

“Wow, this place is great.” She looks around. “How cool is this?” she says, pointing to the coffee table inset with movie covers from magazines. She picks up the red throw pillow that says “Ticket” in bright yellow letters from the recliner. “Um,” she raises a brow, “he might be your soulmate.”

“What? No. He liked Gladiator.”

She drops the pillow and steps closer to the couch, studying the photos on the wall.

“He took those,” I tell her, feeling an unwarranted sense of pride.

“They’re great. He’s got a great eye.” She turns back to me. “Let's go find your room.”

We drag my stuff down the hallway, and it isn't hard to figure out which room is mine—he put my picture from the beach on the door.

“Damn, look at your boobies,” Gidget says. “Something tells me you better lock your door at night or one of you is gonna be sneaking across the hall.”

“Would you stop?” I say, dropping my bag on the queen size bed.

A bed. A big bed, not a twin, like I’ve been sleeping on. With a fluffy white comforter and millions of throw pillows in blues and yellows. I’m so happy, I could cry. I’m going to get to stretch out as far as I want. I may sleep sideways, just because I can. This room is perfect. I love everything about it: the dark furniture, the padded armchair, and my favorite—the window seat filled with more bright pillows. Maybe my karma is changing because all this feels a lot like good luck.

“We’ll see,” she says, pulling out clothes from the bag.

Although Jonah should probably lock his door. Because if anyone is sneaking, it would probably be me.