THE SUN’S BARELY PEEKING ABOVE THE TREES IN NASHVILLE WHEN I text my dad after breakfast, but he still responds right away.
Dad: Hang tight. I’ll video call you.
I’m not sure how well I can carry off the lie face-to-face, so I dodge.
Me: Knee-deep in unpacking. Just wanted to check in and let you know I’m good.
Dad: The flight okay? How’s the house?
Nice as the pictures? You’ve got your own room, right?
With hours to obsess since we last talked, he’s worked himself into a frenzy. As usual.
Me: Yep, it’s all good.
Dad: How are the new roommates? Nice girls?
I hate this. It puts a pit in my stomach knowing what I’m about to do.
Me: Yeah, great. We all had breakfast this morning. I think I’m going to like it here.
Not one of my proudest moments. Lying does cast a pall over what is otherwise an extraordinary opportunity, the chance for me to expand my horizons while furthering my education.
But knowing the truth now would only compound his already heightened state of separation anxiety. A few weeks, though. A month or two. He’ll have adjusted by then, come to terms with the empty nest. I’ll tell him then. At which point, I’m sure he’ll understand why I had to fudge a few facts.
Dad: Well, don’t like it too much. Counting the days till you come home.
He’s such a softy.
Me: Christmas will be here before you know it. Don’t decorate the tree without me.
Dad: Deal. Call me later. Any time. Never too late or early.
Maybe I should look into an emotional support rabbit or something for him.
Me: Will do. Love you. Bye.
There’s a quick knock at my door, and then Lee cracks it open to inform me there’s a house meeting in ten minutes. That gives me enough time to reply to Eliza, who’d sent a few texts last night.
Me: Guess who ended up in a house with three dudes?
To my total astonishment, she’s awake.
Eliza: Are they hot?
Me: I think one is gay, but yeah.
Eliza: Slut.
Me: This one, Jack, he’s Australian and plays rugby.
Eliza: And you want to have like 10,000 of his rugby babies.
Me: I’m pretty sure he could bench-press my horse.
Eliza: Super slut.
Me: I haven’t told my dad. He still thinks they’re girls. So keep this on the DL, k?
Eliza: Lol. Yeah, don’t tell him. At least not before you insert-suggestive-rugby-reference-here with Hot Jack.
I really need to learn something about rugby.
Downstairs in the living room, I find Lee in an armchair beside the fireplace. Jack and Jamie sit on either end of the sofa, Jamie’s finger compulsively swiping across his phone’s screen.
When I enter, Lee not so subtly nods for me to take my place between the two. I sit down and tell myself I’m not disappointed that Jack has put on a shirt.
“Right,” Lee says, glancing at his watch. “I’ve called this meeting to reiterate a few house rules.”
“Could we hurry this up?” Jack grumbles. “I was about to go work out.”
Jamie groans. “You’re always working out.”
“Exactly. You should try it. Put some muscle on those puny pencil arms.”
“Why?” Jamie scoffs. “I look like this without even trying.”
“Yes, I know. That’s the point.”
Pinching his nose, Lee lets out a long sigh. “Are you both done, or do you require that Abbey and I validate your respective masculinities and tell you how devastatingly hot you both are?”
“Nah,” Jack says, flashing that cocky grin. “I know I am.”
Damn right he is. I’m liable to self-combust sitting this close to him.
“As do I,” Jamie says with the haughty tip of his chin.
Jamie does have a certain metropolitan chicness about him. Attractive, definitely. But he’s not my type. I’m not into guys who spend more time on their hair than I do.
“As I was saying,” Lee tries again. “The house rule.”
Oh, okay. Apparently we’ve whittled down our list of “a few house rules” to just one.
He then looks directly at me as though wrapping his fingers around my very soul. “There is absolutely no fraternizing among housemates.”
Oh.
“Otherwise known as the Jamie rule,” Jack says helpfully.
Jamie doesn’t choose to respond, still swiping at his phone and looking deliberately uninterested.
Lee rolls his eyes. “Thank you, Jack.”
“Why the Jamie rule?” I ask when they don’t elaborate.
Crossing his legs, Lee cocks his head at the chastised Jamie. “Care to explain, Lord Kent?”
Jamie prefaces his explanation with a weary sigh. “Well, you see, Abbey, some would have you believe our previous living situation became untenable following a brief and not at all remarkable liaison between two cohabiting, consenting adults.”
I bite back a laugh. “What did you do to her?”
“See?” Beside me, Jack bites back nothing. His deep laughter makes my heart skip. “She gets it.”
“Why does everyone assume I’m the guilty party?” demands Jamie.
Lee grins at him. “Babe, during your last row, that girl broke my flat iron and two of the good plates.”
“Your flat iron?” I echo.
“For my wigs,” he says like it should be obvious. “Anyway, I don’t entirely blame her.”
“You mugged her off good, mate,” Jack agrees.
“It could have been handled better on all sides,” Jamie concedes. “Let’s leave it at that.”
Lee, however, is more willing to expound on the topic. He’s quick to tell me how the two of them hooking up got complicated when Jamie’s tendency toward polyamory came as an unwelcome surprise to her.
“He’s a tricky rat bastard,” Jack says to sum up. “Sneaking girls in and smashing two doors down from her bedroom.”
“So in your mind, once I’ve slept with a girl, I’m to be exclusively bound to her for the rest of my existence then. Is that it?” Exasperated, Jamie now employs a full-throated defense. “I wasn’t aware I’d married her.”
“I’m sensing it got ugly.” I direct this to Lee, whose answering expression suggests that’s a gross understatement.
“Toxic,” he declares. “This one was a little shit about it. Not even an apology to keep the peace. So once they stopped talking, she started throwing things. Couldn’t get her out fast enough.”
“To be clear,” Jack interjects, “I’d have chosen Fiona to stay.”
Jamie throws up his middle finger. “Cheers, mate.”
“She wasn’t an unpleasant girl,” Lee says in her defense. “Jamie just has that effect on people.”
“Right.” Jamie gets to his feet, clearly over this roast of his character. “If my presence is no longer required for this, I’ll be going.”
“Darling,” Lee calls after him, “don’t be angry with us.”
Then it’s just Jack and me on the sofa, still squished together, looking more conspicuous with the space vacated by Jamie. Lee’s full attention is now trained on me, as though he’s heard my pulse racing.
Or maybe that’s my guilty, lustful conscience talking. Which is nuts, because it’s not like I’ve done anything, nor would I. In fact, I’m totally jumping the gun here to assume Jack would take any interest in a somewhat awkward younger woman.
“Good,” Lee says once I’ve been tucked inside my own mind spiral so long I don’t know if either of them has noticed. “Glad we got that sorted.”
At that, Jack pats my head as he stands, like I’m a Labrador. “Dodged that bullet, eh?”
Stupidly, I smile and nod. But what does that mean?
Was Jamie the bullet? Was I?
Is Jack talking about himself?
I’m more anxious now than when this talk began. But Lee’s right. The secretive circumstances of this living situation are fraught enough without the added messiness of feelings. Better to banish any notions right out of my mind. Box ’em up and shove them in the attic with my childhood crushes.
This never would have been a problem if Jack had just been a girl like he was supposed to be.
