The Meeting （4）

"So, this will cover both of us, the other tenant Ryan and me, until January. I am gonna need that in writing from you though," Amara said, adjusting her glasses as she signed the lease paperwork for the apartment and cut a check for almost $11,000.

"Of course. Give me just a moment." The building clerk took the check and left to grab some paperwork from the printer.

Nick nudged her. "Are you sure? That's like, a ridiculous chunk of change, Mar."

"Yes. And it's fine. It's from my car anyway. I've still got a good amount from the house, not to mention that I'm gonna have alimony rolling in for two years. It's the least I can do for the poor kid since he's getting stuck living with some decrepit old lady." She shrugged. "Honestly, it's cool that he's cool with this. We'll call it compensation for the fact that he's about to have random pairs of reading glasses stashed in every crevice of his apartment."

Amara was far from a decrepit old lady; she knew that. Though 41, she didn't feel it and was probably in the best shape of her life. Having your entire world ripped out from under your feet and your heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces, as it turned out, was pretty dope motivation to work out.

It took her a while to get there, though. The crippling depression and anxiety that followed her ex-husband's cheating almost a year ago and their divorce five months ago wasn't pretty. There had been days-long stretches when she literally didn't get out of bed, shower, or even eat.

It was exacerbated by the fact that all her friends were also his friends and thus disappeared quickly after everything went down between them. Pair that with the fact that she didn't talk to almost anyone in her family: the loneliness had been downright unbearable at times, and she surprised even herself that she'd made it out alive.

Nick had been her rock. Her cousin on her late father's side, he was the only person related to her that she kept in contact with. He would constantly check up on her, even though in Connecticut, he was on the opposite side of the country from where she was living just outside of Seattle. He'd spent countless hours on the phone with her, sometimes just listening to her cry, scream, or whatever she needed to do.

When she told him about a week ago that she felt like she was suffocating and needed a fresh start, he offered to help her figure things out and invited her to move to Connecticut, where she'd at least be close to him and his fiancée, Mark. She'd have been welcome to stay with them, but their place was a studio, and there was literally nowhere for her to go.

"I promise you, Mar, I will hook you up with something amazing."

Now, bags in hand, she and Nick were in the elevator headed there.

"Hey. It's all good. He's very easy to get along with. Honestly? He's kind of a dork."

"I can't help it. I haven't lived with another human being besides my ex since my parents, Nick. And even when I was married, I was alone most of the time. I don't know how the hell to be someone's roommate, let alone a 23-year-old kid. What if I constantly get in his way? What if I'm like," she gasped, "an unintentional cockblock? Girls are probably gonna think he lives with his mother! Or, what if he gets a girlfriend and she's weirded out by all this? You know, I didn't think this through. This might be a bad idea."

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to the sixth floor. "Welp, it's a little too late now, bitch. Now grab your bags and let's go." She did as Nick instructed, and it felt like the longest walk of her life. She literally had no idea what she was doing or why she'd thought this was a good idea. As they approached the door, she put her bags down and went to knock, but Nick stopped her.

"Get your key. This is your place, too. You don't need to knock."

"Right," she said, as she fumbled with the lock. She finally got it and pushed the door open into the kitchen, which was beautifully upgraded with all newer, stainless-steel appliances, mahogany cabinetry, and white marble countertops. "Nick. Oh my God," she whispered.

"What'd you think, I was gonna put you up in some slum? I got you, girl."

"This is unbelievable," she gasped, rounding the corner to the living room, which was just as beautiful. She set her bags down and looked around, taking it all in. It even had a gray leather sectional with a chaise; she'd always wanted a chaise. She envisioned herself curled up with a blanket while writing and watching the Connecticut snowfall through the sliding glass balcony doors. "This is just…"

"Really nice, isn't it?" An unfamiliar voice startled her, causing her to jump and spin around. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"No, it's...fine," she managed to get out as her eyes immediately locked with his. They were blue with the slightest hint of gray, and they were guarded by a curious sadness. The feeling she got throughout her body served as a warning that they were a place in which she could get into trouble if she wasn't careful.

She lowered her gaze just enough to see that he had on a pair of black sweatpants and a gray undershirt that clung to his body for dear life, revealing part of a large chest tattoo that spilled over into a half-sleeved upper right arm, all of it done entirely in jet black ink. His blonde hair was a wet, matted-down mess, and she could smell that he'd just gotten out of the shower, picking up on a mixture of fresh cologne and deodorant.

She gulped.

"Baylor, what's up?" Nick said, patting him on the shoulder with one hand and reaching in for a handshake with the other.

Ryan shook Nick's hand, but his eyes stayed right with Amara's. "Good seeing you, Nick."

"So, I found this lady on the way over here and she looked like she needed a home. Ryan Baylor, meet your new roommate..."

"Amara," Ryan cut him off, his eyes still locked with hers. "That's a beautiful name."

"I...yeah," she stuttered, physically unable to pull her eyes away from his, let alone make words. "Yeah. Thanks."

Boy, this is going well.

He pulled his hand away from Nick's and extended both arms out, inviting her in for a hug.

Oh, OK. We're doing this.

She tentatively approached him and reached out; due to their height difference, her arms ended up around his waist as his closed tightly around her upper back.

"Wow," she said aloud, as they pulled away from each other after a few seconds. "You are hard. I mean, not hard like, you...your abs. I mean..."

"You'll have to excuse my cousin. Apparently, this is her first time seeing an actual man live and in person," Nick teased. She watched a huge smile creep over Ryan's face as he blushed.

"I just…"

She looked at Ryan, then back at Nick, who gave her a look that she's pretty sure translated to, "What the actual fuck is wrong with you?"

"Shut it, Nicholas."

"Well listen, as much as I hate to miss the rest of this shit show, Mark and I have to go for food tasting at the venue. Just how I want to spend my Saturday, sitting in traffic on the Belt Parkway. I swear, I'll be so happy when all of this wedding crap is over. He's driving me bonkers. Like, can we just go to the courthouse?"

"When's the wedding again?" Ryan asked.

"November, right at the week-long break. So about two months. Not soon enough." He made his way over to Amara and leaned in, hugging her and kissing the top of her head. "Have fun getting settled in, and try not to embarrass yourself any further in front of this stud, OK?" He laughed, shaking his head. "You are hard! Loser."

She punched his arm as she walked him over to the door. "You are an ass."

"Love you too! And I'll see you at our first practice Monday, Baylor. Have fun with," he opened the door with one hand and made a circular motion toward Amara with the other, "all of that." He left the apartment, closing the door behind him and leaving just the two of them standing in the kitchen, where an awkward silence ensued.

"Oh, um, so these flowers are yours," he finally said, pointing to the bouquet that he'd half-assedly crammed into a plastic pitcher. "I didn't know what to put them in, obviously. But I was told to tell you that they're not from the dusty rook. They're from the two hotties on the fourth floor."

Amara shook her head and shrugged. "I can honestly say that I don't understand a single word you just said."

They both laughed. "A couple of my teammates live two floors down. They came to visit last night and brought those for you. Nick filled them in on…you know, this whole situation."

"Of course he did," she said, rolling her eyes. "Quite the gossip, that one. If you have any secrets, keep them far from my cousin, OK?" She peered into the pitcher and smirked, looking over at him.

Holy shit, could he be more beautiful?

"Nice attempt at a vase though. I'm surprised they're not sticking out of the toilet tank."

"Give me some credit. At least I knew to put them in water."

She rooted around in the cabinets, finally locating a vase and transferring them into it, as another awkward silence came over them.

"OK," she finally said, slapping her hands against the countertop. "Here it is. So, this is a little weird for me. I haven't lived with anyone besides my ex-husband, like ever. I am gonna try my best not to get in your way or make this any weirder for you than it probably already is. I'm sorry, but do you have any idea how gorgeous you are? Wow, I just said that out loud, didn't I? And I'm rambling. I do that when I'm nervous. Oh my God," she said, burying her face in her hands and leaning onto her elbows on the kitchen countertop. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's fine. Really. I've been living with random strange people since I was 15, so I'm basically a pro. It's just part of the game. I mean, not that you're strange. Honestly, I'm glad it's a pretty woman and not some psychopath. That's, you know, assuming that you're not also a psychopath." He shrugged, and as she lifted her head, he smiled at her. "Seriously, it's not that weird for me. Just another living situation. Anyway, wanna see your room?" He motioned for her to come with him, so she did. "I thought you should have the room with the bathroom in it. I'll just use the spare one in the hallway. It's not a big deal."

"Thanks," she said, as he pointed towards her door. "You didn't have to. That's sweet."

"I try. But don't get it twisted. I'm a monumental pain in the ass. I mean it. I look all cute and innocent, but give it a week and you'll wanna murder me."

"Mmm, I doubt that," she said, tucking her long, dark hair behind her ear and taking another inventory of his body. He was seriously perfection. "I mean it though, Ryan, I won't be in your way, OK? Do your thing, whatever that looks like, and don't worry about me. You won't even know I'm here," she said, as she cracked open the door to her room. "Oh, side note: the apartment's been paid up through January, so you don't need to worry about rent until then. We can talk about splitting up the other bills later."

He looked at her, utterly confused. "Wow. Um, why? I mean, thanks. But why would you do that?"

"It's just a small way for me to say thank you for letting me live here. I was…I really needed to get away from where I was, and it's cool of you to agree to this is all. Anyway, I guess I should start unpacking my stuff," she said, as she turned to walk back down the hall to retrieve her bags from the living room.

He reached his hand out and grabbed her arm lightly, stopping her. "Can I at least, I don't know, take you to dinner as a thank you?"

She smirked and shook her head. "I don't think so."

He sighed. "You're gonna be difficult, aren't you?"

"You have no idea."

"Well, I'm persistent, annoying, whatever you wanna call it. And you're not just gonna hide out in your room all the time. We're gonna get to know each other. I'm telling you, soon, you won't even remember what your life was like before you met me."

"Is that right?" she asked, though she didn't doubt it for a moment.

"Yup, you'll see. I'm a good time, girl," he said, flashing her the cheesiest grin. "Anyway, I'm heading out in a little bit, but some of the guys are having a get-together at their place tonight, and they asked me to bring you. That is if you wanna come."

"Would this by any chance be the fourth-floor hotties?"

"Yeah. I mean, you should at least come by and say thanks for the flowers." He shrugged. "It's only polite."

"I'll consider it," she said, as she realized his hand was still touching her arm. She pulled away gently and continued her way into the living room.

"Good," she heard him say, followed by the sound of his bedroom door closing a few seconds later.

She couldn't explain it, but Nick had been right about him; he was very easy to talk to. In the short amount of time they'd spent together, she felt comfortable, something she hadn't felt in a very long time.