❁ Junie❁

Mallory and I stand outside the doorway of my apartment, staring in where painters cover my furniture with protective plastic. Couch Potato is next door in Mallory’s place, trying to find a spot to sleep. I wish my mood was as easily sidetracked as my cat’s, but I’m depressed over losing a part of me.

“We should leave them to work,” Mallory says, wanting to enjoy her day off rather than staring at my red walls turn white.

After saying a silent farewell to the paint color I’ve loved for seven years, I follow Mallory down the short hallway to her apartment.

CP camps out near the window while Mallory’s cat, Chastity, sleeps a few feet away from where I sit on the couch.

“What would you give up for me?” Mallory asks, sitting next to me.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re giving up your apartment’s coolness for Asher, so I’d like you to give up something big for me.”

“This is just in theory, right?”

“I don’t know,” she says, shrugging. “Hey, I want you to give up sandwiches for me.”

I give her a nasty glare. “Why?”

“That would prove your love.”

“How are you affected by my eating sandwiches? The red walls make Asher squirrelly.”

“Don’t distract from my question. If I asked you to give up sandwiches, would you do it to keep me in your life?”

“Yes, I would give them up for you,” I say, accepting how I’m a pushover when it comes to those I love.

“But you’d resent me for it, wouldn’t you?”

“More than you’d ever know.”

Mallory snorts. “I’d give up meat if you went vegan.”

“Never going to be a problem.”

“I’d still do it.”

“You’re an honest to goodness saint.”

“So very true,” she says, bumping my foot on the coffee table where we rest our feet. “I’m curious if you’ll resent Asher for needing you to paint your walls white?”

“No. Well, maybe. Like if he won’t change things for me then I’ll be ticked off. Despite all my whining about having to paint, it’s a small thing if it’ll make him more comfortable.”

“Isn’t it possible he’s incapable of having a normal relationship?”

“Who says I want normal? Wouldn’t I have to change so much more to fit into a normal relationship than I will to fit with a very finicky Asher?”

“You’re not wrong. I’ve always wondered how you planned to build a relationship with a man when you’re pretty particular yourself.”

Sipping my coffee, I imagine Asher enjoying my no longer red apartment. Will changing the walls be enough? From the cabinets and tile floors to my couch and chairs, the place shouts BOLD when he prefers it to whisper calming phrases.

“You know if this guy is really into you, he’ll pay for you to get new stuff that won’t freak him out. That means shopping.”

“I like my stuff,” I grumble.

“But think of the challenge. You’ll need to find eclectic stuff that fits his blah gray tastes mixed with fun colors you like. We had a lot of fun shopping for our apartments. Now we can get creative again.”

“We?”

“You can’t do it alone, and Asher doesn’t strike me as the shopping type.”

Smiling, I try to imagine new accessories in the apartment. “The shrink wants us to decorate the guest apartment in a way that suits us both. If you help me, I can look at the entire thing as an adventure rather than a chore.”

“Once you find things he likes, Asher will trust your judgment. Show him that you’re capable of compromise. From watching HGTV, I get the impression good relationships are based on negotiation.”

“So, we’ll view this change as a quest,” I say.

“Are you sure Asher doesn’t want to choose stuff?”

“He can’t deal with that. Though possibly if we prove to him that my decorating taste doesn’t equal a crayon box explosion, he’ll want to help choose things in the future.”

“I’ll keep you reined in if necessary.”

Mallory’s never hidden her distrust of Asher or disinterest in my dating life. However, she just turned my bad mood into excitement over the upcoming changes. As if I needed a reminder of why she’s my best friend, today provided one.

‧:❉:‧ ♂ ♀ ‧:❉:‧

❁ Asher ❁

No matter what Junie’s apartment looks like I plan to make a big deal out of the white walls. I owe her for trusting in me enough to take the first step—second if I count going to see Disher.

A lot of women would do the same if they wanted my money. They’d deal with my crap to have what I have, but not necessarily to have me. Junie is the only woman I’ve ever met who would love me if I were to lose my money tomorrow. For that, I’ll applaud the white walls of her overpoweringly colorful apartment.

Junie shuffles to the outer door looking as if she woke up very recently. Her hair is wavier than when she puts effort into styling it. I smile at her sleepy eyes and bedhead. Her old-world beauty hits me hard every time I see her.

“Hello, sexy,” she mumbles once I enter the inner walkway. “Did you miss me?”

Wrapping my arms around her, I wish I was the kind of guy to emote wildly about how much I love and miss her. Instead, all I say is, “I didn’t sleep at all last night. I need you if I want to relax.”

Junie hints at a smile before lifting her lips to meet mine. She tastes like barbecue sauce, and I wonder if I interrupted her eating rather than sleeping. Or does she possess the talent to do both simultaneously?

Once our lips part, she steps back and sizes me up. I know she’s nervous about my reaction to the apartment. What surprises me is how small—fragile even—she appears without her skates. A protective edge awakens in me when I look down at her wearing baggy gray shorts and a white T-shirt. She’s mine to guard against the world’s trials including my—at times—oppressive needs.

“I’m sorry I needed you to paint your apartment.”

“You remember that guilty feeling,” she says, patting my chest, “when I do something stupid or need something from you in the future.”

“Deal. Can I see?” I ask, gesturing toward her apartment.

Junie sighs dramatically and spins on her bare heel. I follow her into the apartment. I’m instantly struck by how different the apartment is without the red walls. The colorful décor has become mere tasteful flavoring in the now chic apartment.

“I can’t believe how great it looks. Like something out of a magazine.”

“Stop,” she mumbles and dips her head as if embarrassed. “You have to say nice stuff, now don’t you?”

“Yes, and I planned on lying no matter what the apartment looked like, but I’m not lying now.”

Junie shakes her head and smiles. “You’ll never be a good liar.”

“I wish you lied as poorly.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Walking to her bedroom door, I mentally remark on how stylish her tastes are without the red walls to distract me.

“I want something in return for painting the walls. The guest apartment is nice and all, but we’re both playing house in that situation.”

“Tell me what you want, and I promise to agree.”

“I wish I knew that earlier because I’d ask for something wilder. Instead, I’ll stick to my original request,” she says and inhales sharply. “Come to the Farmer’s Market with me.”

“Why?” I ask, hiding how much I’d hate to spend time surrounded by people searching for food outside when they could easily find the same produce in a grocery store.

“I want to prove I’ll protect you in situations that make you uncomfortable. The Farmer’s Market is crowded with people, but I can keep you safe.”

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

“You don’t want to go because it’ll stress you out. I can help you through the experience,” she says, hugging me.

“This is important to you.”

“I look forward to a day when you and I can do something mundane without you worrying.”

“I said I would agree, so I’m agreeing.”

“Poor sweet baby,” she teases. “Mallory is coming along too, and it’s well past time for my two favorite people to meet.”

Despite being a grown man, I give her a goofy smile at the thought of sharing the mantle of favored person with Mallory. After all, Junie doesn’t casually hand out spots in her heart, yet I now own a part.