Page 47 of The Boyfriend Goal

For a hot second, his smile turns a little dangerous, but then it’s like he thinks the better of it and points to the stairs, resigned. “I’ll put a shirt on.”

I want to tell him please don’t. But instead I let him bound up the steps. While he’s gone I pour a glass of water, and do my best to think unsexy thoughts as I drink.

When he returns, he’s wearing a blue Sea Dogs shirt. He slides the charcuterie board toward me. “Eat,” he says.

“Can I at least contribute an apple?” I offer.

“You are really determined, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I say, lifting my chin. “Just like I was determined to make the best of my freshman year situation.”

“I promise I am nothing like your asshole college roomies,” he says, then wiggles a brow and shifts the broccoli, revealing a slither of red underneath. “Also, I did use your apples. Cosmic Crisps are fucking elite.”

“Dude! I know,” I say, then grab an apple slice and crunch into it. When I finish chewing, I grab another and point it at him, then gesture to the spread. “Is this on your meal plan?”

He brings a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

“Scofflaw,” I say in mock surprise.

But he just smiles. “Actually, it is. Under ‘acceptable snacks.’”

“So you work out, you eat clean, you watch hockey. I’m sensing a theme,” I tease.

His smile burns off, and his face goes stony for a minute. “I like other things besides hockey.” It’s said a little defensively.

I backpedal quickly with a bright, “Of course you do.”

“It’s just…the job keeps me busy.”

I’ve really put my foot in my mouth. “I totally get it.”

Dragging a hand through his hair, he sighs. “Sorry. Sore spot. You would have no way of knowing that.”

I feel a little better that he’s said that, but I’m still somewhat unsteady. “I’m sorry too,” I say, then shrug helplessly. “I just…I’m not sure how to do this roomie thing.”

“Honestly? I feel the same. I’ve never lived with anyone since my freshman year either.”

“So we’re in the same boat,” I say, even though I’m mentally filing away the detail that he’s never had a live-in girlfriend. Is he noting my romantic backstory too? That I haven’t lived with a man?

Get over yourself. Of course he’s not.

“But we’ll figure it out, okay?” he adds.

“Okay,” I say, focusing on food, and navigating our first night together sharing a meal in the house. I turn to the fridge to grab some cheese slices and make a sandwich.

“So…baking?” I ask, returning to my question from earlier today as I slice some bread.

“The ice cream was an exception. I have pretty good willpower in general, so I don’t mind you baking.”

And staying power, I think, remembering his stamina in bed. “But do you have the willpower to resist a cupcake?”

“Depends on how tempting it is,” he says.

I shouldn’t tempt him. Really, I shouldn’t. But as we eat dinner, standing at the counter, two very different people, I start to think about another item on the list and wonder if he might wind up helping me with that one too.

Number Three: Make a friend who’s nothing like you. You learn the most from them.

As we finish, he says, “By the way, whatever happened with your freshman year roommates? You made the most of it since that’s what you do, right?”

---