Just Roommates

Chapter 9

No, I tell myself. If I was able to jump to the wrong conclusions regarding Ian and Michelle, then there is a very real possibility that I'm doing the same right now.

Or... am I? He's polite, a good cook, his house is immaculate and well decorated, and he dresses great. I suppose it wasn't too unbelievable.

Michelle said goodbye, and I think I answered her, but I've got so many things rushing through my poor, overworked brain that I really can't be sure.

Did she say something about Ian booking a trip?

“Stephanie?”

Taking a breath, I raise my gaze from the counter top, my blurred vision clearing the minute we lock eyes. “Hmm?”

“You all right?” Turning the burner on the stove top off, he crosses the kitchen and leans on the counter, facing me. “You seem... I don't know... off?”

I smile, deciding that I don’t know him quite well enough yet to blatantly question his sexuality. Plus, I'm probably wrong. “I'm fine. I just thought you and Michelle were an item. It kind of came as a shock.”

Ian smiles widely. “No. I love her, don't get me wrong, but there's no way that could ever work out.”Pushing himself off the counter, He claps his hands together. “You hungry?”His eyes fall to my still-wrapped protein bar, and he laughs.

“Starved actually,” I confess.

Ian heads to the cupboard, grabs two plates, and dishes up whatever he was working on. When he sets them down on the island counter where I'm sitting, I notice he's made spaghetti.

He takes the seat next to me and hands me a fork while I look down at my dinner, inhaling deeply an letting the marinara sauce permeate my senses, “This looks amazing,” I say, picking up my fork and twirling some of the pasta around the tines.

“Thank you.” I can feel him watching me as I push my food around my plate for a minute. Then he nudges my arm with his elbow. “It's not just for looking, you know,” He teases.

Smiling, I glance over at him. “Sorry.”

Ian's eyebrows pull together with what looks like concern, and he sets his fork down next to him plate. “Okay, what's wrong?”

I don't even think I can speak; the words just spill out of my mouth. “You're leaving already.” I can't help but feel sad about this. Even though I knew this about him before moving in, it sucks that we won't be spending any time together right off the bat.

“Only for a couple of days,” He promises, turning his body to face me. There's something sweet and apologetic the was he's looking at me. Sure, we've only known each other for a week—and I'm not even totally sure how to go about asking him about his availability since I've only just moved in—but I think I see something deep in the pools of his green eyes. “There's this baseball player in Houston that the agency has had an eye on or a few months. He's young and can do well under the right representation.”

I say noting. Do nothing.

“Look,” he continues softly, reaching out and grazing the skin on the outside of my knee before quickly drawing back as though the contact was out of line in some way. The fire of  his touch still lingers, though, and I find myself wanting him to do it again. “I know you're still getting settled, and I honestly didn't think I'd be leaving this soon. I was hoping this trip would wait another couple weeks, but if we don't get him now, someone else will.”

“I understand.” I don't really—he might as well be speaking another language—but its his job, and I know he was to do it to pay the bills. “Maybe I can invite Ali over?”