4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Avery

W hile I had no clue what to expect out of Myles from the phone conversation yesterday, I liked that his house was in a reputable part of town. My practice wasn't far from Randy's, in South End, and the room for rent would be within walking distance of both. Talk about a total win. The guy I'd spoken to on the phone had seemed a little odd, but that had been evident from the "roommate wanted" flyers in the first place.

Odd I could deal with. Normal was where I had problems.

I hiked my messenger bag over my shoulder, since the strap had slid to the edge as I skimmed the row of houses, all well maintained. My heart thumped in excitement. If I could land this room, I could move out of my craptastic apartment.

The Rubber Duck Wars would finally end, and my shitty landlord could go fuck himself lovingly with a rusted pipe.

The red-bricked row houses were pure New England with the crawling ivy, and the ones in this area had charming on speed dial. I checked my phone again to make sure I'd gotten the address right. The house should be only a few down. Chloe had sent me sadness texts every day since she broke the news she was moving in six months, and I'd be lying if I said I'd come to terms with it. The shakeup had me feeling a bit lonelier, a bit more off-kilter.

As much as I made friends easily, finding people who saw all of me was rare.

I stopped in front of a house with a black door close to the end of the row. My throat dried, but I mustered up my courage. I talked to people all day for my job and could pull off a simple room-share walkthrough. As long as the guy wasn't a serial killer or a collector of exotic spiders, we were golden.

My messenger bag slapped against my side as I strode up the steps. Once I reached the top, I didn't hesitate to knock on the front door.

The thump of footsteps pounded from inside, and the door swung open.

In the frame was the guy I'd seen last time I was at the diner.

Up close, he was hotter than from a distance—which had still been real damn hot. He was wearing a baggy shirt and black sweats, but the black tattoos against his pale skin that poked out on his arms had me curious. The neatly trimmed beard accented his broad lips, and his thick lashes made his blue eyes stand out. His dark brown hair was combed to the side, a little longer on the top but shaved at the base, and goddamn, I was officially staring.

"Hey, I'm Avery." I thrust out a hand. "Here to check out the room for rent?"

He stared at me, not saying anything, and nerves prickled along my neck. Had I gone to the wrong house?

"Uh," I took a step back, ready to make a hasty retreat.

"Sorry," he said as if snapping out of a trance. "I was just surprised."

My brows drew together. "About what?"

"You're here." He scratched his nape. "Obviously. We had an appointment. Let me show you the place."

With that, he whipped around and headed into the house. I blinked a few times. What had happened? So maybe more than a little odd. I closed the door behind me, the quiet click echoing through the place. The living room and kitchen were on clear display from the entrance, and to the left lay the stairs, which guaranteed led to the bedrooms.

Myles shoved his hands into his pockets, a slight hunch to his shoulders as he stood in the center of the living room. "So, this is all shared space, half bath down here. Oh, shit." He paused and then crossed the room toward me, hand extended. "I'm Myles, he/him. I should've led with that."

The introduction might've been backward, but it was welcome. I'd figured Myles would be queer-friendly, given his frequency at Randy's, and that fact set me at ease. "Avery, as I mentioned before, he/she."

We shook hands, and the moment we touched, electricity arced through my veins. His palm was warm and his grip firm, and hell, I liked the way it looked against mine. Down, girl. Damn, I really was a horny bitch.

"Should I do a pronoun check?" he asked, and my heart warmed at his consideration.

I shrugged. "Not necessary. If I'm in femme mode or in masc mode, I'm usually leaning toward corresponding pronouns, but I'm in flux so much that what you use isn't going to bother me either way. Today I'm leaning more femme"—I gestured to my cute checkered blouse and slacks with my matching black nail polish—"but again, either is fine."

Myles carded his fingers through his hair, drawing my attention to his hands again. They were sexy, all long fingers and elegant, and a pulse of heat shot through me. "Right, so I tend to be oblivious. If I'm doing anything that pisses you off roommate-wise, just tell me. I mean, if you decide to take the room, of course. God, I'm getting this all backward."

"Don't worry. The timeline's already fucked anyway," I said, smoothing over his rambling.

He snorted and gestured around the living room. "Have any questions?"

I took the time to soak in what could potentially be my new place. The walls were a cream color, but the dark granite countertops in the kitchen, as well as the black cabinetry, were fun touches. A large TV sat on a stand in front of a cozy-looking rust-red sofa, which was about the amount of space this section of Boston would afford. But stacks of books were piled everywhere—on the coffee table, along the side of the sofa, and dominating the bookshelves on either side of the TV. I wasn't an avid reader, but I enjoyed the occasional jaunt into a fictional realm. My hobbies were club dancing, flirting with strangers in French, and morbid macramé.

"What sorts of genres?" I tipped my head toward the laden bookshelves.

Myles's cheeks turned bright red. "Books."

"Why, yes, I managed to piece that together." I winked. He turned away from me, and I studied him, not sure if I'd offended or not. It always took a bit to gauge with new people if they were fluent in sarcasm, which truthfully was my third language. I stepped closer to the bookshelf, curiosity creeping in the way it always did. Snooping was a terrible habit of mine, but I could halt it as much as I could halt the inevitable network domination of reality television.

"Let me show you the upstairs." Myles strode to the steps. I pivoted and followed, even though I itched to go back and see whatever he'd been trying to hide on the bookshelf. Not much would faze me. The only shit I got judgmental about was extreme right-wingers, cat haters, and people who didn't clean their fingernails. Look, dirt didn't need to take up real estate there.

The steps creaked as I ascended, soaking in the state of the place. A bit of clutter lay scattered around and some dust but no food mess or rotting smells, which was a good sign. My current apartment had a mold problem the landlord refused to fix, one of the many items on the list of why the place should be condemned.

"How soon are you looking for a roommate?" I asked, which should've been my first question. I'd remembered to ask about monthly rent, utilities, and the other basics, but not the when.

"Yesterday?" Myles said.

My lips quirked with a grin. "So, not desperate for a roommate at all. Got to admit I'm curious how you ended up in this place. It's a gorgeous house."

"Grandma Nelson decided to fight a losing battle with a raccoon," Myles said, reaching the top of the steps.

I paused midstride. "You mean she…got murdered by a raccoon?"

Myles shrugged, turning around to face me. "Nah, died peacefully in her sleep, but she did have a vendetta against a raccoon she'd named Betty in her final years."

My lips twitched as amusement flooded through me. "You're weird as shit."

Myles froze, his blue eyes widening. Oh, crap, he must've thought I was being an asshole.

"In the good way," I reassured him, reaching the second floor. "I only get along with weirdos."

"Well, you'll find plenty of that here," Myles mumbled, a flush on his cheeks as he glanced away. He couldn't seem to make eye contact with me, which had me more curious than ever. He gave his beard a quick stroke and strode down the hall. "So, bedrooms. Mine's the first one on the right." He rapped at the door and continued farther down the hall. "The one at the end is yours if you want it."

He gestured me forward, and I took the cue, stepping into the room. A queen-sized bed with a frame was already there and a bit of a lace and roses vibe that didn't fit with the bookworm and burrower rest of the house.

"Was this your dead grandmother's room?" I asked. A cat portrait hung beside framed cross-stitched roses.

Myles wrinkled his nose. "Well, she died like two years ago. In her will, she wanted the place to remain in the family, so I bought it for a steal."

"Okay, but is this a shrine or something?" I scratched my nape. "Like…is your grandmother going to haunt me?"

I wasn't getting cold sweeps or the heavy feel of spectral presences, but the rose-covered doily on the bedside table was giving me the eye.

"Oh, no. She haunts the Lutheran church up the street," Myles said, straight-faced.

I squinted at him. "Are you just fucking with me now?"

His lips quirked, but he didn't respond. Warmth filled my chest filled at how easy conversation between us had become already. Quiet and quirky I could deal with.

"So, do I need to keep this room a shrine if I move in?" I asked. "Because I'm not a huge fan of grandmother chic."

"Oh fuck no. Paint the walls, change whatever. Just don't like…shit on the walls or set the house on fire."

"The bar's so low," I murmured, casting him a look. His gaze snagged on mine, and I couldn't help but notice the pretty blue of his eyes, how something charmed me about him, even with his oddities. The fact that he was cute as fuck didn't hurt. He licked his lip, and I followed the movement. The faint scent of patchouli drifted my way, and damn, it sent prickles of awareness across my skin. I smoothed down my slacks.

"Ah, there's one bathroom up here, so we'll have to share if that's okay." He walked out of the bedroom.

"If I can't share a bathroom, I'm pretty sure I'm not in the space to be renting a room from someone."

Myles stepped into the bathroom, which lay on the opposite side of the hall, between the two rooms, and halted. I slammed into his back, not prepared for the sudden stop. My hand shot out, landing on his shoulder, and the contact sent a sizzle up my arm. Every time we'd touched in this short span, it had been pure electricity. Whether that would be trouble or not was Future Avery's problem. Future Avery was a punk.

My gaze landed on what had stopped Myles cold.

One of his dildos air-dried on the bathroom counter.

The rainbow-colored cock was impressive, so it seemed Myles could handle a bit of girth. I chewed on my lower lip, trying to restrain the giggle bubbling up. But seriously. I left my hand on his shoulder, and I wasn't in a rush to pull it back. Myles still stood frozen—probably in horror.

"If you get fucked in the mouth with that, does it mean you can taste the rainbow?" I asked.

The second the stupid-ass joke left my mouth, laughter exploded out of me. I dropped my hand from his shoulder and clasped my gut, which spasmed with the force of my laughs. I couldn't stop myself though. Oh my lord. This was by far the weirdest rental viewing I'd ever been on in my life, and I loved how comfortable I felt. My shoulders shook as the laughs poured out of me, my eyes stinging as tears welled.

Myles crossed his arms, his back still turned to me.

I sucked in a big breath, trying to get my laughter under control. Hopefully, I hadn't blown my best chance of getting a room with a…well, blow job joke. "Hey." I struggled to settle down to normal. "I was just trying to lighten the tension. I've got a collection too."

"Oh god," Myles groaned, scrubbing his face with his palms.

"Seriously, it's not a big deal," I said, glancing toward the dildo. "Well, maybe it is—that's got some decent girth."

"I'm going to dissolve into the floor now," Myles said, his hands still plastered over his face. "Is it working yet?"

I snorted. "Sweets, if humankind had that ability, we'd be abusing it by now. We're going to be roommates, right? So this sort of thing was bound to happen."

Myles peeked through a gap between his fingers. "So my cock on the sink hasn't scared you off?"

"Please, that's like rolling out the welcome mat for me."

Myles pulled his palms from his face, which had turned pink from embarrassment. And hell, the blush was cute as shit too. He probably flushed up like that when he came. Unf. Horny Avery was clearly out to play again.

"Okay, let's at least get out of the bathroom. It's staring at us." Myles all but bolted for the steps. I didn't need to question what "it" was, since the dildo provided a vibrant splash of color in the tan-and-white space. The clattering sounds as he descended echoed my way. I took my time, feeling lighter than I had in a while. Not only had I found a room in a beautiful place, but it seemed like Myles would be fun. So far, he was like a puzzle, and I itched to solve him.

When I reached the bottom of the staircase, Myles was waiting for me, his eyes wide, expectant. His defined brows and high cheekbones gave him an intelligent look.

"So, did I pass the test?" I asked. "Can I rent the room?"

"Yeah, uh. Just let me know when you need the key. Feel free to move in whenever."

I flashed him a grin. "You're going to regret that when I show up at three in the morning. My lunch break's almost over, so I've got to head back to my clinic. See you soon, Myles."

With that, I tossed him a wave and walked out the door, excitement bubbling through my veins.

Whatever lay in store for me next, it promised to be interesting .