Page 10 of The Consequence of Loving Me

“It’s nice to meet you, Selma. I’m Veronica.” I give her a genuine smile, because she seems too nice to receive a fake one.

Aspen opens the patio door as he exchanges goodbyes with someone on the phone. He dodges a loveseat close to the patio door as he literally swaggers in our direction. “Welcome home, girl!” he exclaims.

Then, he wraps me up in a very unwanted hug that involves my feet leaving the floor. My duffle bag makes a loud thud on the hardwood floor as it falls from my grasp in the process.

“Let’s not scare our new roommate, Aspen.” Selma giggles as she smacks Aspen on the arm.

Her words influence him enough to put me safely back on the ground. His arm, however, stays around my shoulders as I listen to Selma tell me about the house.

As she explains the living area, I take the time to look around. After walking through the ugly green front door, I’m met with a decent sized living space. There’s a large gray sectional pushed up against the wall, decorated with throw pillows. That was my first cue that a female lived in my new humble abode. It’s apparent males live here, though, by the giant flat screen attached to the wall. An informercial about vacuums plays on the screen. Selma continues to ramble on—this time about groceries—as I scan the kitchen.

The kitchen is small, but it has updated appliances. In the corner sits a small white table with four teal chairs surrounding it. I make a mental note to find myself with other plans if they ever ask me to eat with them in the small space. There’s also a bar separating the living room from the kitchen. Three perfectly aligned barstools sit in front of it.

“Veronica?”

Hearing my name snaps me out of my thoughts, and I search for the speaker.

“Want to see your room now?” Maverick repeats.

Selma’s eyes ping pong between me and Maverick before she bends down and grabs my duffle bag from the ground.

I nod, muttering a quiet thank you to her as I pick up my purse.

Maverick’s body retreats down a set of stairs that open up to a basement. Aspen stands a little too close to me as I make my way down and look around.

A pool table sits in the middle of the room. It looks well loved, and apparently a game was cut short, because balls are still scattered around the table. Two pool cues lean against the table, haphazardly propped up. As we walk through the basement, we also walk by an old card table that looks like it’s seen better days.

Finally, we make it into what will now be my bedroom. I have to admit, it isn’t so bad. I’m used to a king-size bed, but considering I’m trying to get away from my parents and their money, a queen will do.

It’s pretty bare in the room. It seems that even though their last roommate ran away with her professor, she still took everything but the bed and a dresser. The dresser sits across from the bed and a full-length mirror is perched on a stool next to it.

Selma sets my duffle bag on the bed, saying there are extra sheets in the linen closet upstairs. The boxes Maverick brought in earlier sit next to what looks like the door to the closet.

“The bathroom is out there,” Selma explains, pointing to the living area in the basement. “I will warn you, the boys come down here a lot. I try to force them to use their own bathrooms upstairs, but they don’t listen.” Her green eyes burn right into both Aspen and Maverick.

Maverick shakes his head, giving her a sweet smile I hadn’t seen on his face until now.

“I’ll try and be on my best behavior for you, girl,” Aspen mutters. He gives me the biggest grin before he jumps up onto my bed—shoes and all.

That will not work for me. Not at all.

“Will you get off?” I ask, attempting for polite as I stare at his shoes against the white comforter.

Aspen doesn’t get off, though. Instead, he puts his hands behind his head and makes himself even more comfortable.

I repeat myself one more time—another time he decides not to listen.

I give him a few more seconds to respond appropriately before I slip one of my heels off. I raise it and smack Aspen in the arm with it. “Off my bed. Now.”

It takes one more hit on his arm, and a shriek from Aspen that is very high-pitched, to remove him from my bed.

“Jesus, Veronica!” Aspen howls, rubbing the red spot my heel left on his arm.

Selma tucks her head into Maverick’s neck, her body shaking with visible laughter. I even hear Maverick chuckle against her hair.

“You were on my bed. With shoes!” I reply in disgust. My hand sweeps the comforter clean where his dirty feet had been.

Aspen continues to rub the spot on his arm like I just impaled him with the heel. For someone whose muscles look like they belong in an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog, he’s acting like a child.

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