Page 27 of Falling for Them

“What was that?” I glanced in the rearview mirror to meet his eyes.

“It must be nice to call up your lawyers anytime you have a problem. Some of us can’t afford such luxuries.”

“I never said you had to pay them.” I looked back at the stoplight we were at, not knowing why the hell I’d offered to pay thousands of dollars on his behalf.

As I pulled up to the apartment building and surprisingly found a spot across the street, Ethan grew more anxious.

Libby reached into the back seat and gave his knee a supportive squeeze. “It’ll be okay. If I can handle a room full of kids the day before Christmas break, I can handle one unhinged adult.”

Ethan gave her a small smile, but I saw the worry in his eyes. “You say that now, but wait until he throws a wet sponge that was sitting in a bowl of rotting Cheerio milk at you.”

Gross.

After parking, we lugged the packing supplies to Ethan’s apartment. It was quiet when we got inside, and Ethan quickly led us to his room right off the living room. He unlocked the door and gestured for us to enter.

“I don’t think Eugene is here, so let’s pack fast. Maybe we can avoid him entirely.” Ethan immediately started putting together a box. “I’ll do my dresser. Everything else should be safe for you guys to touch.”

“What about your furniture?” I looked around the small room that was barely big enough for the three of us.

There was a lofted twin bed like a dorm room with storage underneath, a dresser next to it that acted as a nightstand, and asmall desk. It couldn’t have been more than sixty square feet. My shower was about the same size, give or take a few feet.

“If he doesn’t destroy it, I’ll have to get it later this week once I find movers. All of the stuff in the living room is mine too.” He was referring to the loveseat, two-person table, and small entertainment center.

“We can get you new stuff.” I opened a drawer of his desk and started placing everything into a box.

“I don’t need new stuff,” Ethan said between clenched teeth. What the hell was his problem?

We worked quickly and quietly, packing boxes and the suitcases Ethan had under his bed. Before long, we had almost everything packed and in the living room so there was a bit more space.

I kept glancing out into the living room, half expecting Eugene to burst in at any moment. Libby seemed to be thinking the same thing, her eyes darting in the same direction. Despite his earlier unease, Ethan appeared calm, methodically packing as if he’d done this a million times before.

We were nearly finished with the bedroom when the front door slamming announced Eugene’s presence. Ethan froze, a partially folded sweater in hand, his face draining of color.

My protective instincts surged, and I stepped in front of Libby and Ethan, ready to be the punching bag—literally or figuratively.

“What the actual fuck is this? Ethan!” No introduction was needed for the owner of the voice that sounded like a male version of a mean girl, but with a heavy Brooklyn accent.

“I’ll handle this.” I stepped into the doorway, my voice low but firm.

Surprisingly, Ethan didn’t protest. He probably wouldn’t have minded seeing his roommate throw a moldy sponge at my head.

Eugene stood by the front door, his hands on his hips. He was shorter than I’d expected, with wild eyes and disheveled hair that made him look like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, his nostrils flaring like an angry bull.

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “I’m the guy wondering why you’re interrupting our packing party.”

Eugene’s face turned an impressive shade of red. “Packing party? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought it was obvious.” I gestured to the boxes and luggage. “Ethan’s moving out.”

“He can’t move out!” Eugene came toward me at an impressive clip considering how short his legs were. “We have a lease!”

I pushed off the doorframe, blocking his path into Ethan’s room, and stuck out my arm, which he ran right into with his chest. “A lease that I’m sure, doesn’t include threats of violence. Tell me, Eugene, do you often threaten to stab people, or is Ethan special?”

Eugene’s eyes widened, darting between me and the others behind me. “That... that was a joke! Ethan knows I was joking! I didn’t threaten to actually stab him with a knife!”

“Hilarious,” I deadpanned. “Now, if you don’t mind, we’d like some peace and quiet while we finish packing. We’ll knock on your door once we’re finished.”

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