When he held out ten hundred-dollar bills, all I could do was gape at it. I’d never seen that much money in one person’s hand at one time. Not once. Here he was, holding it out for me to take.
“Of course not, this is an expensive city.” He pulled some more bills from his clip to add to the pile. “Here. A two thousand-dollar advance on your first check. If you need more, you know my number.” When I didn’t move to take the money, he reached for my hand and placed it on my palm.
“Mr. Lawson—”
“It’s Ellis, and yes, you can take it.” He put his money clip away again—it still looked just as thick. “Might I suggest you make a stop by a cell phone store as soon as you leave here? Text me your number right after.”
My eyesight was going blurry, which meant I was getting close to crying, but I wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of my agent. “Mr. Lawson—” I tried again. “Ellis, I think I’ll be giving you my next ten paychecks to pay this back to you.”
He was grinning at me, almost smirking. “Believe me, your first one will more than cover this little cash advance.”
It was impossible to conceive of that kind of money—the kind that could change the course of my family’s lives and my own.
“You’re going to be big. I’ve never been wrong before, and I won’t be wrong with you. Just do what I tell you, and this city will be chanting your name by this time next year.”
Wandering the streets of New York with two grand in my purse made me feel like I was trying to make it through Sherwood Forest without running into the Merry Men. I swore everyone who passed me could read on my face how much money I had on me. On the subway, I clung to my purse like the mothers clinging to their toddler’s hands.
After stopping at a cell phone store, I made a quick stop at a pizza take-out place. Exchanging money for something felt so good. It was the first thing I’d been able to pay for with my own money as an official resident of the city.
By the time I reached the fourth floor of our building, I could smell the scent of cleaners. It became stronger with every stair I took, until I realized where it was coming from. Juggling the giant pizza box in one hand, I unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The smell inside was intense. A combo of fake lemon, Windex, and vinegar. Still, it was better than eau de dirty underwear.
“Soren?”
I heard him talking, but I didn’t realize he was actually singing until I moved a few steps far enough inside to peek into the kitchen. With a pair of headphones covering his ears, he was humming along to some song and moving his body in ways that had me close to blushing. In one hand he held a bottle of cleaner. In the other was what looked like an old shirt he’d turned into a rag.
The sink was spilling over with suds and dishes soaking, and the old food and boxes had been tossed into the garbage. He was scrubbing the stove right now as he started to belt out some lyrics. At the same time, he moved against the stove like it was a dance partner who liked to get freaky.
So my roommate knew how to move his body. So he knew how to dance. Why was I feeling that fluttery stomach sensation from watching him grinding against an outdated appliance? I didn’t really want to answer that question, so I dropped the pizza on the table and stepped into the kitchen to help. He was singing again, twirling his shirt-rag in the air.
When he finally noticed me, he didn’t jolt or seem surprised to see me.
“Nice dancing,” I said, loud enough I thought I was speaking over his headphones. “And singing.”
Soren slid his headphones behind his neck, continuing to dance. “I’m a double threat.”
“Not a triple?” I asked doubtfully.
His head shook once. “I can’t act for shit.”
“Really?”
“Do I seem like the type of guy who’s good at pretending?”
Moving toward the sink, I pushed up my sleeves. “Double threat it is.”
He chuckled and got back to scrubbing a crusty spot in one of the burners. When he saw me dip my hands into the sink to start washing, he moved up beside me and tried to hip-check me out of the way.
“I got this,” he said, bumping his hip against mine again when I refused to budge. “You were right last night. This mess is all on me. Pretty sure this is the first time you’ve stepped foot in the kitchen.”
“No, you were right actually. You cooked your food for me. The least I could do in return is clean the kitchen after.” I started scrubbing the first dish my fingers touched.
When he accepted I wasn’t going anywhere, he stationed himself as the rinse-and-dry guy. “I’m not going to tell my mom you just said that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I just spent two hours this afternoon being lectured by her on things a guy can and can’t say to a girl, and according to her, I committed one of the great offenses of all time last night when I suggested it was your responsibility to clean the kitchen.” He winced like he was remembering the conversation. “Apparently it’s very not okay for a guy to suggest it’s a woman’s job to clean a kitchen. Even if he didn’t mean it in any antiquated, gender-profiling way.”
I smiled into the sink as I handed him a clean dish. “But you didn’t say it was my job to clean it. You merely suggested I might be willing to do it since you’d cooked the meal. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“According to my mom, there’s everything wrong with that.” He dried the dish and tucked it away in the cabinet. “And I’m also supposed to tell you that it won’t happen again. She said that was important. Oh, and to apologize. Which I think I already did, right?” He paused, his forehead creasing. “Just in case, I’m sorry for being a prehistoric asshole last night, Hayden. It won’t happen again.” His head shook as he rinsed the next dish. “Actually, I can’t guarantee that one hundred percent because I’m not the actor type. I say what I think. I express how I feel. I’m not good at playing a role or pretending. So if I fall into that asshole mode again, just throw one of those heels of yours at my face or something.”
When he nudged me, his arm running down mine, my hands stopped scrubbing the pan I was working at. I’d brushed up or passed thousands of people in my life, but this was the one instance where I felt an odd, buzzing warmth exchanging between us. I slid just enough aside so our arms weren’t touching.
“You weren’t the only asshole last night. I was too. Let’s just file it away as roommate growing pains and move on.” I finally managed to get the last of the crust off the pan, then I handed it to him. “Tonight, I made dinner and guess what? No dishes to fight over who should do them.” When I glanced at the dining table, Soren noticed the pizza box.
“How did you know I was craving pizza?”
“I didn’t. I just knew I was and figured you wouldn’t argue if I shared.”
As he dried the pan, his brows came together. “How did you manage to pay for the pizza?”