Page 10 of Capitally Engaged

Preston shrugged. “You know how rent prices are in DC. I’m barely ever here. Either living in the office or traveling back to Rhode Island with the senator, so it didn’t make sense to wastemoney on more space than what I needed for just me. Any extra money gets put away in savings for when...”

“For when you run for Congress.” I finished for him. This sound decision-making lined up with what I’d learned about Preston so far.

I glanced around more, noting the touches Preston had made to make the space feel homey and welcoming. The complete opposite of how his sterile office had been. There were books about politics and history on the shelves next to me with a few spy thrillers interspersed. Photos of a group of men, at various ages of life, lined the top of the shelves. I assumed these were the brothers Preston had mentioned. Photographs of DC hung on the walls, and I noticed the colorful carpet at my feet.

“You’re sure a partner never lived here?” I said, gesturing at the bright and personal touches. “Not that a man can’t have good decorating taste, but I’ve seen your office.”

Preston’s cheeks reddened. “My stepmother made me breathe some life into the place when it still looked like a sample unit after I’d been here a year. Or else, yeah, it’d look a lot like my office. It does make it more attractive to come home, I have to admit.”

Okay. Only one room. Only one bed. Definitely two humans. But, it’s a place to live and a job and maybe, just maybe, the opportunity to not feel so fucking alone for once. You can do this, J.

“Okay,” I said brightly. “This will work! Good thing I pack light.”

Preston laughed. “That does have its advantages. I made some room in the closet for you, and the bottom drawer of the dresser is empty. I also cleared some counter space in the bathroom. We can think of other options if you need more...”

I was touched he had taken the time to make space for me in his already cramped quarters. After slotting into other people’shomes and lives as a subletter for so long, I expected more of the same.

“I think that’ll be a great start. We can go from there.”

“Okay, cool. Do you need any help or...”

It was my turn to laugh.

“I’m pretty sure we’d trample each other if you tried to help. Do you need to go back to the office or...”

Preston shook his head. “No, I’m going to work from the couch for a little bit until we have to start getting ready for the gala. I’ll just put my headphones on and zone out. Leave you to it.”

I shrugged and turned to the cart to grab the first box off the top of my stack. I figured all my movement would be pretty distracting, but Preston was a big boy who could make his own decisions. I set to work layering my clothes into my new drawer, using hangers to hang what I could in the closet and lining my shoes next to Preston’s on the floor of the closet. My things had never shared space so intimately with someone else’s and it made me almost itchy. Keeping my guard up around Preston in these tight quarters would be tricky, but if he worked as much as he said he did, we should get some separation.

Except that you’re working with him now too, numbnuts. You better hope this doesn’t backfire.

I flitted around the apartment, finding space here and there for the few knickknacks and personal items I allowed myself to keep move after move. My shampoo bottles sat next to his in the shower, and I shoved tampons under the sink. I smiled to myself. Nothing said cohabiting like introducing feminine products into a man’s cabinet.

Soon all my stuff was squared away. Preston’s place embodied the minimalist lifestyle, which gave me room to squeeze in around the edges. A pile of things I kept on a bedside table was on the foot of the bed, including my grandmother’squilt. I paused looking at the stark white duvet covering the mattress. We could brighten the bed up with my quilt. Or it could become a couch blanket for a little while. Needing to sit on the couch to snuggle with my quilt could give me the incentive I needed to ever sit on the damn thing, as I remembered the lumps I felt earlier. What I really needed to know was which side of the bed would be mine.

I walked over to Preston and stood directly in front of him, expecting him to notice me and look up when he reached a stopping point. Preston’s eyes remained firmly on his screen, and after a few seconds, I said his name. No acknowledgment. I tried again, louder. “Preston?” Those headphones really put the cancel in noise canceling. I waved my arm, and still, he didn’t budge. Was he sleeping with his eyes open?

I stepped to the side around the small table he had swung off the couch arm and touched his shoulder. Preston jumped six inches in the air, scrambling to take his headphones off. “Shit, sorry,” he said, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. I put my arms in the air in the international gesture for I mean no harm.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been trying to get your attention for a minute.”

Preston drug his hand through his hair, looking almost embarrassed.

“Ah, yeah, I have thiswork zoneI get into where I’m pretty dead to the rest of the world. It’s really convenient for working in public places, but often results in jump scares like the one you just gave me. What’s up?”

I found myself unable to stop the small smile Preston inspired with his response. This guy was such an earnest nerd. It was endearing. And a little bit cute.

“I just wondered which side of the bed you slept on. I wanted to get some stuff situated on the other side.”

“Which side of the bed... you mean, we’re going to share?”

“I’m sure as hell not going to sleep on this abomination you call a couch. I have no idea how you’re sitting there that long to work.”

Preston reddened. “Itisan old couch. I’m never in danger of falling asleep while I work when I sit here. But I’m sure I can figure out how to make it workable to sleep on. You can have the bed.”

I almost felt bad, but there was no way in hell I’d survive on that couch for more than a night or two. Lack of sleep alone was terrible for my stomach, but it also made me crave bad foods that were certain to trigger my IBS.

“It’s your apartment. You’re definitely not sleeping on the couch. We’re two adults. We can’t share?”

---