Page 67 of Love Me Not

No way he thought this was the work of a burglar. Since when did criminals break into a house only to clean the place from top to bottom? My shoes were gone; I assumed shoved into the closets. The used plate and cup from the end table were missing, pillows were fluffed, mail was neatly stacked on a corner of the coffee table, and the empty pizza box from two days before had magically disappeared along with everything else.

While Trey tiptoed through my living room, I marched down to the kitchen, and just as I suspected, the place was immaculate.

“I can’t believe they did this,” I mumbled.

Trey joined me at the counter. “I checked the bedroom and the bathroom. Nobody’s here but us.”

“Is the bathroom clean?”

“Spotless,” he replied. “Safe to guess that wasn’t the case when we left?”

“Very safe. I seriously cannot believe they did this.”

“You want to fill me in? Who would break into your apartment just to clean it? And are you sure there’s nothing missing?”

“The girls,” I said, shaking my head. “They either really like you, or they think you’re my last ditch hope to ever find a man and are determined to make you like me.”

“I already like you,” he said, leaning a hip against the counter. “So your friends came in here while we were eating and cleaned the whole apartment? Because of me?”

“They did, yeah.” I checked the dishwasher. “Must have done it all by hand, too, because there’s nothing in here.”

I only ran the dishwasher maybe once a week, if that. Living alone and not being much of a cook meant I didn’t dirty a lot of dishes. The silverware ran low now and then, but that’s why I went out and bought an extra pack of forks.

“On the plus side,” he said, “it looks great.”

He wasn’t wrong. The apartment probably hadn’t been this clean since I moved in. But Trey had already seen the mess. At least what he could see from the front entry space. What exactly did they think this was going to achieve?

“It’s false advertising though. You already know what it looked like before.” Grabbing the tea towel they hung over the oven handle, I tossed it on the counter next to the sink, where I usually left it. “They shouldn’t be trying to trick you into thinking I keep the place like this.”

“If you had a roommate, would you keep it more like this?”

I snorted. “Not like this, no. But I’ve had roommates in the past and I did my part to keep the common areas clean.”

“Okay, then.”

Why did it sound like we’d just agreed on something. “Okay, then what?”

“Nothing. Could we talk for a while or do you want me to head out?”

I checked the time on the microwave to find it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. Since the house was clean, it wasn’t as if I had anything pressing to do. And who knew when the couch would be completely cleaned off again. Might as well take advantage while the opportunity was here.

“You can stay.” I opened the fridge and slid my cheesecake onto the empty top shelf. “I have water and pop, unless you want me to make some coffee.”

“I’ll take a pop, thanks. Should we sit on the couch?”

“Have at it,” I said, reaching into the back of the fridge for a cold can of Pepsi. “Do you want a glass?”

“No, thanks.” Trey took the offered drink and strolled over to the couch.

It was sort of odd seeing the place this way. Not having to move clothes or blankets to sit down was a rare occurrence, and I had to admit, the whole apartment felt physically lighter with the mess gone. Maybe not gone, because everything was still here, but organized. The irony was not lost on me. Everything in my classroom had a home and I made sure the kids put supplies back where they found them.

Yet, at home, the opposite was true. Things landed where they landed, and though I knew exactly where everything went, I made almost no effort to put them back there. Which explained why I could never find anything when I wanted it.

Grabbing a can for myself, I took a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Trey, then saw a note on the coffee table. Leaning forward, I said, “This confirms it.”

“What’s that?” Trey leaned over the table and read the note aloud. “We love you signed the girls. They really care about you.”

“They do,” I agreed, “but they also desperately want me to pair up now that they’ve each found a man. Donna went so far as to ask if I feel bad about them all having someone while I’m still single.”

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