Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
It’s because I liked him so much. And because for the short time we spent together at the party, I had allowed myself to hope I’d found something—someone—special.
“Let’s not drink to our engagement,” he says. “Within the walls of this apartment, we should be honest. Let’s drink to being roommates.” He eyes me from under eyelashes that wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of Vogue. I take a breath, trying to give off vibes that say his intense stare doesn’t do anything to me. “And to becoming friends,” he says.
A shiver passes down my spine.
Friends? With Leo Hart?
Maybe I can drink to that.
TWELVE
Leo
Jules is much better company than I expected. I thought she’d scuttle into her room as soon as I got home, and I wasn’t about to coax her out, but cooking with her? Chatting? Having a to-and-fro? It’s fun. And… not what I expected.
“That’s really nice tequila,” she says. “Get that imported too?”
“Ha, but no. I got it from Costco,” I lie.
“You did not,” she says. I like the fact that she calls me out. Most people, especially most people who work for me, would never dare. “I bet you’ve never been to Costco in your life.”
I chuckle at all her assumptions. She’s trying to put me in a very defined box and that never works. Not for anyone, in my experience. “You’d be surprised.”
She mixes the pasta into the sauce and I pull out an oven dish. “Thanks,” she says, a note of surprise in her voice. Clearly an oven dish is “off-brand” as far as she’s concerned.
She pours in the mac and cheese and my stomach rumbles. Proper comfort food. There’s nothing like it.
“So surprise me,” she says.
I frown, confused. What’s she wanting? Me to dress up in a Spiderman costume for dinner? Or maybe Wolverine.
“You said I’d be surprised. You a Costco regular?” She sprinkles some grated cheese onto the top of the dish and slides it into the oven.
“Oh, right. Honestly? Not recently. But as a kid I would go with my dad all the time. He had a bakery in Brooklyn and we’d go a lot.”
A grin explodes on her face. She’s really fucking beautiful. I’ve always been vaguely aware that if you stripped off the thick-framed glasses and made her smile, Jules would be pretty, but I don’t think I realized just how gorgeous she is. Maybe I’m just a sucker for a girl in sweatpants who can cook mac and cheese.
I pick up the tequila bottle and pour out two more shots.
“So that’s why you know your way around a kitchen? It’s in the family. You said before that you didn’t come from money.”
“Not at all.”
She looks at me for a long beat and I swallow under her gaze. It’s like she’s seeing right through to the heart of me. Like she’s been looking at me through fog until now and it’s finally cleared. “That’s nice, I think.”
“It’s nice that I grew up poor?” I ask on a laugh.
“I think it makes you more… interesting,” she says.
“Less on-brand?”
She laughs. “Yeah, maybe.”
I pick up both shot glasses and hand her one. She looks a little panicked.
“You don’t have to have another,” I reassure her.
“That’s the problem,” she replies. “I want one.”
I freeze. Does she have a drinking problem? Have I just enabled her addiction or something? Shit.
She laughs. “You look worried. Don’t worry, I won’t start playing air guitar and flashing you my boobs if I have another. It’s just, you know, even though I’m not your assistant anymore, you’re still my boss.”
“That’s another thing to drink to,” I reply. “You have another job. If you don’t want the shot, don’t take the shot, but can we agree on one thing?”
Her eyes widen slightly and I really want to know what she thinks I’m going to suggest. Her imagination is likely far more potent than the reality. “This is my apartment and my home. I don’t want to be a boss here. As soon as I step outside those doors, the only time I’m not… I’m always someone’s boss or a developer, someone people want something from. When I’m here… When I’m with my friends, I’m just Leo. And I’d like to be just Leo when you’re around, if that’s okay?”
Her eyes soften. I can tell she’s not going to try to negotiate with me.
She takes the shot glass from the counter and raises it. “Just Leo.”
Our gazes lock, and I’m sure she’s holding herself back from saying something else. But I want to hear it. She’s funny and interesting and I want her to feel comfortable around me.
She tips back the shot and, when she recovers, says, “We need a salad.”
I smile. Maybe I’ll hear what she really wanted to say later. “I have nothing salad-like in the apartment. Want me to order something?”