A New Place 2

"So, hear me out."

Carrie scowled at him across the breakfast table. He had to admit that even in her current state, wrapped in a blanket, her hair a mess, she was still as beautiful as she had been the first night they met. Even wearing a sour look on her non-made up face, there was something about her that made him want to plant a kiss right on her cute little lips. He doubted she would be pleased, though, and he kept his distance, taking a sip of coffee and waiting for her response.

"I'm listening," she said finally. "Why, of all the apartments in this city, should the one I move into be shared with your new girlfriend?"

"Ok, first," John responded, "she's not my girlfriend. She's just a friend. A friend of a friend, really. I just went to help her move to the city. She said she needed a roommate, you need a place to stay that's cheap, which means

you

need a roommate... I have to say, it seems very reasonable to me."

"Ok, first," Carrie responded, "when you start a sentence with 'first', it's expected you have more than one point. Second, 'girlfriend', 'fuckbuddy', whatever, I'm not going to get into the exact semantics of who you're putting your dick in. And third, you didn't answer my question. Why there and not somewhere else? Why her?"

"Well, second," John said, "you've been here, what, three, four weeks, and it seems you haven't found a single one of these other apartments you mentioned. It seems like maybe you should at least consider it." Her expression remained unchanged so he sighed and sat back. "Or just keep not looking and hope something falls into your lap..."

"Hey, I'm looking," she snapped back, then after a few seconds of considering her coffee mug, "Well, I was looking. It's hard. Everything's expensive unless you want to live in a complete shit hole."

"Yeah, well," John said, getting up, "I feel for you. But whatever, it was just an idea. I'm sure she'll find somebody, anyway. And you can, you know, stay here as long as you want." He put his now empty mug in the sink. "If you can stand the company, that is."

"Ok," Carrie responded.

"Ok, what? Ok you're going to stay here indefinitely...?" John asked as he leaned against the counter.

She rolled her eyes. "Ok you can tell her I'm interested. I'm sure your new girlfriend is going to

love

the idea of living with your ex."

"Not my girlfriend," John answered on his way out the kitchen door, "but I'll let her know."

...

hey

did you get home ok?

thanks for last night

I mean last night was fun

wow I'm a dork over texts too

John smiled as he read the texts from Chloe that had apparently accumulated over the morning while he worked. Sitting down to eat at the little coffee shop he'd found near his latest assignment had been the first opportunity he'd had to glance at his phone since leaving Carrie, still wrapped in a blanket, but having moved to the couch, at home and heading off to work.

He texted back

Hey

I got back. Sorry I had to run out this morning.

then went back to his sandwich, trying to distract himself from the giddy feeling in his stomach by looking around the place at the other customers, though none were doing a particularly good job of holding his attention. Fortunately, she responded quickly:

it's cool.

you gotta work

sorry I kept you so late

John had to smile at Chloe apologizing for the best night he'd had in weeks.

I would have stayed later if I could have

She again responded immediately:

hey can I call you

is that weird?

I swear I'm not being clingy I'm just bad at texting

John laughed, then quickly realized he had done so far too loudly, texted back

sure just a minute

, shoved the small remainder of his sandwich into his mouth, and began cleaning up. A minute later he was outside. He figured out how to call someone, an act he hadn't actually performed in a while, and, waited in front of the cafe for Chloe to pick up.

"Hey," she answered. "Sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting."

"No need to apologize," John said. "The only thing you're interrupting is me eating alone."

"Aww," she said. "You don't have a lunch buddy at work?"

"I kind of just started a new job," John said. "Anyway I don't make a lot of buddies in my line of work. How about you?"

"Oh, I don't start till next week," she answered. "So no lunch buddies for me, either."

"Ah, well, you'll make friends fast. Liam seemed to at that place, anyway," John said. "So, what's up?"

"Huh?" Chloe said.

"Uh...what did you want to talk about?" John said.

Chloe laughed. "Oh, uh, nothing. I just...actually, about buddies and eating and maybe...uh, do you want to come over for dinner? I never got to thank you properly for driving and everything and..."

"You did plenty to thank me, I think," John said. Try as he might, he could not hide the goofy smile from passersby.

"That wasn't...I didn't do that to thank you," Chloe said. "I mean, I did...I did

that

because I wanted to. It wasn't like because I felt like I had to. I don't want you to think, like..."

"Relax, sweetheart, I don't think that," John said. "I was just...anyway, dinner?"

"Yeah," she answered. "I mean, nothing fancy but I was going to make dinner for you. I mean, if that's alright. I would take you out to thank you but you know temp's salary and all..."

"It's cool," John answered. "A home-cooked meal from a beautiful girl sounds amazing. What should I bring?"

"Around seven ok?" she said, then quickly, "Oh, I mean, nothing, you don't have to bring anything. For some reason I thought you were going to ask what time you should come and then I answered that instead. I'm a, just, I guess I'm not any better on the phone."

John laughed. "No, you're great. I love..." he caught himself, "...the way you are on the phone. It's adorable."

Chloe stifled a cute little laugh. "Oh, ok," she said. "So, seven-ish is ok? Don't bring anything, you don't have to bring anything but yourself, ok?"

"Ok," John said. "I'll see you then. I'm going to bring something, by the way."

She responded with a cute little faux harrumph. "Ok, see you then."

He put the phone in his pocket and considered the street, taking a second to recall which direction he had come from. While he was still thinking, he felt the phone vibrate.

Ah, we're back to texting, I guess.

He pulled out the phone to find it had, as expected, one new text message, but was surprised to see it came not from Chloe but, rather, Riley. He hesitated to even read it for a second, then resigned himself to it.

I can always just ignore it, right?

hey do you want a nintendo?

John felt his face twist up into a puzzled expression involuntarily. He considered in that moment what she could possibly mean, then having decided he could not be sure, texted back

Is that a code word?

A second later she replied, messages coming in quickly, one after another

no

sorry

I mean do you want my nintendo

n64 actually

I'm getting rid of it

I thought you could use it

He checked the time, which showed he still had fifteen minutes to get back to the office.

You don't need some old piece of shit console and you know it,

a voice in his head told him.

And she knows it, too. Nothing good is going to come of you seeing her again.

Yeah sure

Should I come get it some time?

He texted back over the objections of the annoying little voice. Riley responded quickly:

yeah can you come over Saturday?

afternoon

Nick won't be here

A few seconds passed before her next text:

so it won't be weird

"Sure it won't..." John said out loud to nobody, then realizing he had vocalized it, responded back with

ok

and headed back to the office.

...

The remainder of John's work day proved to be no more eventful than the morning had been, which had left him a bit fidgety, full of nervous excitement for the night, which he was having difficulty suppressing by the usual workday activities of pretending to do anything of value. As this had not worked, he had ended up spending an inordinate amount of time considering what he should bring to Chloe's place.

The initial thought was wine; this seemed like the obvious go-to for a gift when accepting a dinner at someone's home. Of course, this necessitated considering what type of wine to get. This was the puzzle that faced John as he stood, facing a wall of bottles in a liquor store. He tried to remember what he had last done when faced with a similar decision, but once he recalled that it had been occasioned by he and Riley interrupting Carrie's television viewing he frowned and tried to push the memory from his mind. That seemed, despite the reality of it only being a few weeks prior, a different lifetime; he had at the time been regularly fucking Riley and irregularly fucking Carrie to boot. Now Carrie was more accurately described as "platonic houseguest" or, if John was in one of his less charitable moods, "irritable mooch," and Riley was...well, Riley. He had to cut off his own train of thought forcefully by focusing on the little flags showing the national origin of each of the bottles.

Which one is Germany and which Belgium?

he thought.

What's the best possible outcome of going to see Riley, realistically?

his subconscious answered.

Please do me a favor and shut up,

John thought back at himself.

I don't want to have to drown you out with one of these bottles tonight.

This did not work, as the little voice in his head continued,

You're going to go over there and one of two things will happen: either you will fuck her and feel terrible about it or you won't fuck her and feel terrible because you really wanted to. There's no secret third option, unless you count her boyfriend walking in on you again and probably kicking the shit out of you as an option.

John picked up a bottle of red and tried to focus on the label.

Really, really need you to shut up right now. I'm trying to think about an entirely different girl at the moment. One who most certainly isn't hiding a fucking fiance from me. So please shut up.

This time, John was saved from further internal argumentation by his phone ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out, hoping it would be Chloe, but instead saw it was from Carrie:

what's for dinner, roomie?

Oddly chummy tonight,

John mused. It was not unusual for Carrie to assume he would provide dinner; had had been doing so irregularly over the last few weeks.

If I don't she'd probably starve,

he thought to himself

or worse, eat all of my cereal while hunched over on the couch under a blanket.

Really?

the voice popped up once again, no less annoyingly for having changed targets.

Or is it just that you like having her around? Maybe that it reminds you of when you shared a bed and not just a house?

I thought you were going to shut up,

he thought back. He silenced the voice by texting back:

sorry, plans tonight

John had grown tired of thinking about girls other than the one he was planning on meeting shortly, so he gave up and decided to go with the bottle in hand. His phone indicated another text while he was waiting to check out and then, shortly after, another, but he ignored them both until he had returned to his car. When he checked, he found that they had, as expected, come from Carrie:

with my new roommate?

whatever enjoy the 🐱

He smiled, wondering how much sarcasm was included in the second message, but decided not to worry about it too much in any case, and started the car towards Chloe's. When he arrived, he called up to let her know.

"Hey," she responded.

"Hey," he said, "I'm here," finding it difficult to wipe the goofy smile off of his face that had appeared at the sound of her voice.

"Oh crap!" she exclaimed.

"Uh...?" he responded.

"Oh, uh, sorry, that wasn't...I didn't mean about you. I'll buzz you up."

A few minutes later, when he finally arrived at her door, on which he knocked before entering, he immediately understood the reason for her earlier sudden exclamation: she was standing in the little kitchen, frantically rubbing a wad of paper towels on the front of her dress, a sexy little blue affair that probably would have been even better looking sans a large spot of what John guessed was marinara sauce adorning it.

"Uh, hey?" he greeted her.

"Oh, hi," she looked up and returned his greeting with a smile. She let her arms flop to her sides, evidently abandoning the attempt at cleaning up.

"So I guess tonight's menu includes you, then?" John said, approaching her.

"Yeah," she said, rolling her eyes, "I'm sure you're going to love eating me." Then, quickly understanding what she had just said, "I mean, uh, hey, you weren't supposed to bring anything!"

"Hey, if I didn't bring anything, I'm not sure there would be anything left for me to eat. You know the sauce is supposed to go on the pasta, right?" The wine bottle in one hand, he placed the other on her arm and drew her in close for a kiss.

She returned the kiss happily for a second, pressing herself up against him, and then quickly stepped back. "Oh, crap!" she said.

"I'm sorry," John said, "I know I'm not the best kisser..."

"No, it's not that," Chloe replied. "I got you all saucy."

John looked down to confirm that the red mess she had failed to remove from her own clothes had now metastasized to his shirt. "Ah," he said, "my bad."

"No, I shouldn't have..." she said. "Bleh, it's my fault, I got too close. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I will happily trade a shirt for a kiss from you," John replied, adding, "Needed to get a new shirt, anyway."

"Oh, well, in that case," Chloe said with a little smile. She pulled in close to him and kissed him again, this time her tongue quickly finding its way into his mouth. Her arms wrapped around him and one moved down his back and onto his ass. A second later, he felt a wetness where her hand was and pulled away, much to her surprise.

"I know I'm not the best kisser, but..." she said in a cute little imitation of him.

"No, no" he said, twisting his neck around to try and get a view of his own butt. "I think you may have gotten me with some of that sauce again is all." Indeed, she had, in her effort to clean herself up, evidently gotten some on her hand and from there to transmitted it to him.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" she squeaked, rushing to take a look. "I swear I'm so sorry. I'm just ruining everything tonight and we haven't even done anything yet."

"Done anything?" John asked with a smile.

"I mean..." Chloe froze up. "I didn't mean

that.

I mean, I didn't not mean that. But like, we didn't even eat yet and already you're going to have to change."

"You know," John said, chuckling, "if you're trying to get me out of my clothes, there are easier ways."

Chloe blushed. "I'm not..." She put her hands on her hips and squinted her eyes. "I know you're just joking with me. I know I don't have to try to get you out of your clothes."

John shrugged, trying to suppress a smile.

Her expression, a scowl as unconvincing as any John had ever seen, started to shift. "Right?"

"Well, I am pretty easy..." John shrugged.

The faux scowl returned.

"I think you're getting more sauce on your dress," he said, indicating with a nod her hand, which was dripping onto her hip.

"Oh, crap!"

...

"It's very good," John said as he had just finished his last bite of the pasta that Chloe had prepared. His shirt was, he conceded, probably ruined, but it had done an adequate job catching any stray sauce, so at least it functioned well enough in that respect. Chloe, meanwhile, had opted to change into something more suitable: a big hooded sweatshirt and some pants that he guessed were probably designed for yoga.

"It's spaghetti," Chloe replied, rolling her eyes. "Sorry it's not much. Mostly I got through college on junk like this and I never really learned how to cook anything more impressive."

"It's very good spaghetti," John said. "And I sympathize. I think when I first graduated my diet was like 90% PB&J and instant ramen."

"So what's your diet now?" Chloe asked. She twirled her fork around on her by now largely empty plate. "Foie gras and caviar?"

"Oh, I think I got it down to about 80% PB&J at this point," John replied with a smile.

"So what's the other 20%?" she asked, smiling right back at him.

"Foie gras and caviar, mostly," John replied. "Nah, I don't know. At some point I think I picked up a couple recipes or just learned you could ask the internet how to make stuff. It's mostly about having the time and a reason to bother."

"Like what?" she asked, and then on John's reply of a confused look, "I mean, what kind of reason?"

"Oh, you know, girls. Or I guess boys in your case. The key to a woman's heart is through her stomach. Same for a man. I don't know, probably the same for NB people."

She gave him a look of playful disbelief.

"You don't think so?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Is that the key to your heart?"

He chuckled. "I don't know. I feel like probably I shouldn't tell you even if I did know."

She cocked her head to the side. "Why not?"

"Why not tell you the key to my heart?" John asked, and seeing Chloe nod in response, continued, "Just seems like an awful lot of power to give a girl."

She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess a little fast for that on the second date. Or...I mean...not a date. IS this a date?"

John found himself simultaneously amused and unable to answer properly. "Uh...I guess...it could be? Are we dating? Should we call this a date?"

"Um, do you want to?" Chloe asked. She was trying to keep a casual tone, but her eyes betrayed that she was very interested in the answer.

"Do I want to be on a date with a beautiful girl who's way too young for me?" John said. "Yes, I would love that."

She relaxed before his eyes. "I'm not that...I mean, thank you, but I'm not that pretty...Hey, also I'm not too young for you! You're like, what, thirty? Thirty five?"

"Something like that," John said.

She really is too young for me. But on the other hand...

"Yeah, see, my dad is like, way older than that." On seeing John's confused reaction she quickly continued. "I mean, he's like way older than my mom. Like, way more older than my mom than you are than me. Does that make sense? Not that like, we're getting married or anything. Just like dating. Like casual. It's fine, right?"

"You mean the age gap is not 'problematic'?" John asked with finger quotes.

"Yeah, exactly. Not 'problematic'," she agreed. She surveyed the table. "These dishes are going to be, though, if I don't get to them." She got up and began clearing the table, so John followed suit. "You don't have to help. You're the guest, just relax."

"I want to," John said. "Besides, what am I going to do, play with my phone while you wash dishes? Come on, you wash, I'll dry."

So they set about doing just that. For the first minute or so, this occupied them enough that nobody spoke, but then Chloe spoke up. "So...your ex really wants to move in?"

"I don't know if I would characterize it as 'really wants to'," John responded. "But maybe if we rephrased it as 'really wants to get away from me' it might be more accurate."

She smiled a little smile as she washed. "I doubt that." She paused, focusing on the dish for a few seconds before continuing, "So, she's like, normal, right?"

"Never been committed, as far as I know," John said, eliciting a sideways look. "Nah, she's normal. Other than the dating me bit."