“I look up criminal records, involvement in any police reports—such as you being a witness to a crime or whatnot. Financial records, but all I’ll really see is what shows up on a credit check. Like I said, it’s just to protect myself.”
She licked her lips and stared at our hands, reminding me that I was still touching her. I backed away, but I wasn’t sure if it was more for her benefit or mine.
“Are you looking for an answer today? Is that what this lunch is for?”
My chest tightened at the thought of her changing her mind. Quickly, I grabbed the papers I’d brought with me off the seat and set them on the table. “Before you make a decision about moving forward or not, I thought maybe we should go over this.”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to make me sign a lease?” She watched me with concerned eyes from across the booth.
“This isn’t a lease. It’s just some rules and things I felt we needed in writing. Like an agreement of sorts. It helps keep things from getting murky in the event I do something you don’t like, or vice versa; no one can say they weren’t aware.”
“A roommate agreement?” She giggled before adding, “Okay, Sheldon Cooper.”
“I’m far cooler than that nerd.” I wagged my brows, pulling more laughter from her and causing her to snort. “Anyway, I’ve laid out my thoughts, expectations, things I’ll ask of you while you’re staying with me. I figured we’d go over it together, so when you do make a decision, you’ll be completely informed. You can add anything you deem necessary, and we can keep it updated as we maneuver around living together. I’m sure more will come up as we learn new things about each other.”
“Expectations?” she asked, her voice filled with skepticism and an undertone of trepidation. Out of everything I’d said, that had to be the one word she stopped on.
I ran my hand down my face, fighting my need to smile. I didn’t want her thinking I was making fun of her, but…well, I kind of was. It was cute how she constantly reverted back to assuming I was the next Ted Bundy.
“Let’s just go through it. You’ll see.” I placed the printed agreement on the table between us, a pen clipped to the front to hold the papers together. “First are my expectations.”
Her posture stiffened, and as I glanced at her profile, I watched her clench and unclench her jaw. For a second, I wondered what had happened to her to cause this kind of reaction, but then quickly dismissed it, figuring she wouldn’t tell me anyway. So I turned my attention back to the list in front of us and carried on.
“I have no problem with you inviting people over. All I ask is that they respect my things. I’m trusting you to protect my house while I’m away, which means I have to trust the decisions you make. I obviously haven’t met your friends, so I’m leaving it up to you to make the best judgment call. With that being said, I fully understand that accidents happen. If something breaks, and you can’t fix it, either shoot me a text or wait until I get home to tell me. Please don’t try to cover it up or lie to me about it.”
“Are you sure you’re not a father? Because you certainly sound like one.”
I hung my head in shame. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Jade. I don’t have a clue what the hell I’m doing here. I just thought if we were both on the same page, it would eliminate unnecessary arguments or hiccups, so I added anything and everything I could think of. Here”—I slid the paper in front of her—“finish reading it, and if you have any questions, just ask. If you need to amend something, you have the pen.”
She cleared her throat and took the paper. I observed the way her lips moved as she went through the list and mouthed each word to herself. Her eyes narrowed from time to time, and it made me wonder if she needed glasses.
The only thing that made me stop analyzing her every move was when she pointed to a line on the list, and without glancing up at me, asked, “No sex?”
“Not with each other,” I clarified, and showed her where that part was stated.
She flipped her dark curls over her shoulder and flashed expressive eyes my way. “So we can kiss, make out, touch each other, and play show and tell with our baby makers, but we can’t have sex? Is that just vaginal penetration with your penis? What about oral? Anal? I mean, what do we categorize as ‘sex’?”
My eyebrows rose, leaving behind an ache in my strained forehead. “Um…all of the above?” When she rolled her eyes and went back to the list, I decided to speak up. Screw it if I sounded like a parent going over house rules while they went away for the weekend. “I’ve said this a hundred times—I’m not interested in anything romantic. I want—”
“I was just giving you a hard time, Cash.” She moved her finger up the list and said, “You literally have bullet points for everything on here…except the no-sex policy. Like here, when you mentioned the mail. You have a line about what to do with bills, another line about junk mail, another in regard to the rest of what comes from the post office. Then there’s a bullet point for UPS and FedEx. The financial section is broken down, as well as your expectations. Yet down here”—she moved her neatly trimmed nail about three-quarters of the way down—“all you say is no sex with each other.”
“If you would feel more comfortable adding in clearer details, feel free. Just make sure you put on there: No anal sex.” I watched the crimson creep up her neck and settle into her cheek, adding a natural glow of embarrassment.
“That’s okay, just as long as we’re both on the same page.”
“Don’t try to sneak into my room at night, and we’ll be okay.”
“I don’t see anywhere on here that I can’t watch you sleep.”
I snatched the paper from her hand, grabbed the pen from the table, and scribbled next to the “no sex” line: No watching me while I sleep. As soon as I finished, she regained control of the paper, and just below what I had added, she included: No falling in love.
“That’s for you,” she said, tapping the pen over her words. But before I could respond, she turned her glacier-colored gaze my way, and with the straightest face, added, “I’m completely unclear as to your intentions. For all I know, you’re looking for a new wife, and I’m not interested in being tied down at my age. This needs to stay strictly platonic.”
My mouth opened, ready to ask what she meant by that, but the smirk playing on her lips gave her away. “I guess I’ve beaten that into the ground, huh? I’m sorry. I’m not accusing you of having ideas, nor do I believe you’ll get your hopes up. That’s not it. I guess I just needed to say it—repeatedly—so it was out there.”
“No worries.” She turned her attention back to the list. “That’s why I included it.”