Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
It was hard enough having to see Griffin at work after what we did, but now I’m seeing him nearly all my waking hours, and I’m also spending all that time with his two housemates, who can’t know what he and I did together.
The universe hates me.
It’s a small relief when Griffin changes the subject and talks about his afternoon client during the short ride home. Once inside the men’s home, I disappear into the bedroom they insisted I take, with the convenient excuse that I have to study.
I should ask Griffin if he’d like help in the kitchen, but I need some time away from him. Not because he’s irritating, but because I can’t stop thinking about what we did together, and wanting to do it again.
I don’t trust myself to be alone with him in the kitchen. Or anywhere else.
Fortunately, my schoolwork is interesting, and I’m actually absorbed in an entrepreneurship case study when there’s a knock at my door.
“Dinner’s ready.” It’s Frank. I didn’t even hear him come home.
When I go out to the dining room, I find a cluster of department store shopping bags piled on my chair, and Frank and Zeb looking pleased with themselves. “What’s this?”
“Just a few clothing items,” Frank says. “We know you don’t want to wear the same outfits every three days.”
“You bought all this?”
Zeb, who’s standing behind his chair, folds his arms in front of his chest. “Before you protest, we need to tell you that all of this was on clearance. It’s non-refundable, though we can change sizes or styles if we need to.”
I give him a look. I may not be a big spender, but I know that’s not how shopping works at these stores.
“We’d have given you a gift card so you could pick out what you like, but we figured you wouldn’t accept it,” Frank says, and he’s exactly right.
“I can’t accept any of this, either.”
“You’re going to have to,” Zeb says. “None of it fits us.”
I shake my head and start to move the bags onto the floor, not sure how to deal with them right now.
“Why don’t you open them, Ember?” Griffin asks.
It seems that accepting the clothing is going to be the path of least resistance.
I pull things out of the bags, one item at a time. There are several blouses, a few skirts, and multiple pairs of pants, most of it more casual and colorful than the clothing I typically wear, but still appropriate for work.
Another bag has outfits that would be more suitable for days off or for lounging around the house. There’s a black t-shirt and joggers that look so soft and cozy I’m tempted to change into them right now.
“I’ll pay you back after my next paycheck,” I tell them.
“That’s not happening,” Zeb says.
“Think of it as our contribution to everything continuing to go well at the new location,” Frank adds.
It’s a ridiculous excuse for buying me all this, but it’s incredibly thoughtful and sweet.
“Well, thank you. I really appreciate this.”
“Try things on later, and let us know if we need to exchange anything,” Frank says.
There’s one more bag, but the logo tells me it’s from a popular lingerie company, and I’m definitely not opening that here in front of all of them. As I move it off the chair, I catch a glimpse of pink lace, and even that makes my cheeks heat.
The thought of Frank and Zeb buying underwear for me is more than I can handle at the moment.
As soon as we’re all seated, Griffin serves out helpings from a big bowl of cheesy-looking pasta and ground beef. It’s going to take me a while to get used to eating with these men. Sharing snacks at work is one thing, but being in their home, all of us eating together like we’re some sort of family, feels really strange.
Several minutes into the meal, after Griffin finishes up a story about a rowdy audience member during one of his last gigs at a bar, I pose a question that I’ve been curious about for quite a while. “How did the three of you end up living here together?”
Zeb aims a thumb in Frank’s direction. “Frank and I knew each other from another shop we worked at before Beasts Ink. I had a shitty roommate at the time, so Frank and I started talking, and we found this place.”
I nod. Zeb and Frank are definitely the closer of the three, so that makes sense.
“We took Griffin in after he started working at Beasts Ink and needed a place,” Frank says, and I feel certain that the invitation was probably his idea, since Zeb and Griffin often seem to clash. Sometimes I get the sense that Zeb’s just tolerating Griffin, so it always surprised me that they lived together.
“Guess you all really liked this recipe,” Griffin says, looking around at Zeb’s and Frank’s nearly empty plates as he helps himself to about a quarter of the pasta that’s left in the bowl.