Page 9 of The Last Person
Living next to Hardy is one—mostly manageable—thing. LivingwithHardy? That’s something else entirely.
“Hey, there are two master suites, so it’s practically two separate apartments. Let’s face it, I spend more time in your living room than I do my own, so we might as well share one.”
The elevator dings, and I don’t have time to respond to that before the doors open to reveal Mark standing there. He somehow convinced the building manager to let him be the one to show us the penthouse.
“Markie Mark coming in clutch to save our asses,” Hardy says as they fist bump.
“It’s mostly selfish. If you’re stressed, you’ll be playing like shit, and we have games to win.”
“Wow, so much love,” I say.
Mark claps me on the shoulder. “Trust me, once you see this place, you’ll know it’s all love. Plus, I’m suggesting it even though that means you can show up at my door anytime, and if that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”
I chuckle at that. “You mean Hardy could show up there anytime.”
“Heard that,” he says from in front of us as we walk the few steps from the elevator to the apartment door. There’s also a locked stairwell next to the elevator that’s only accessible to the residents of the two penthouses.
Mark steps up next to him and unlocks the door with a keycard.
It opens into a hallway lined with built-in benches with hooks and cubbies plus two closets. It’ll be a great place to store our gear.
We’re not even all the way inside yet, and I already know it will probably be awesome. I love Mark’s penthouse. It’s spacious with lots of natural light, and while I don’t love how dark the aesthetic vibe of his place is, it’s not that hard to lighten things up. What is less awesome is the prospect of sharing an apartment with Hardy. Not because I don’t want to be around him, but because sharing space with him all day every day might kill me.
Whatever I said about the beauty in unrequited love, usually you get some space to process the unrequitedness. To be away from that person. To exist outside it. When you’re forced to face it head-on all the time, it’s suffocating.
Light floods the space as we get to the end of the hall, and as Hardy’s eyes brighten with excitement, I know I’m fucked.
The kitchen and living room are centered in the space. The living room is long, with a brick gas fireplace at the end and a TV above it. It’s big enough for three couches. One in the center facing the fireplace and one on each side. The long kitchen islandwith eight stools divides the kitchen and living rooms while keeping them open to each other.
“This is it,” Mark says. “As you can see, even though the overall amount of space is the same as mine, the layout is different, with more defined spaces.” He points to the hallways on either side of the kitchen. “Those hallways lead to the two master suites. They’re mostly mirror images of each other, but the one on the right side of the kitchen has an extra window to let in the south-facing light.”
I side-eye him. “Were you a realtor in another life?”
Mark beams at that. “Nope. Frannie’s mom walked through it with me this morning.”
Frannie and Hallie’s parents are real estate agents who also own property in the city.
“Look at those windows!” Hardy exclaims. Then he turns to me. “Think of how many more babies you could adopt.”
Mark stifles a laugh, then follows Hardy over toward the far side of the apartment where a second living area is.
“This space here can be completely walled off with these folding glass doors. They’re frosted for privacy, but will still let the light through.”
“Did Cheyenne give you cue cards?” I joke.
“Uh, no. I have an excellent memory. How else would I retain all the important plays?”
“By being good at your job?” I suggest.
Hardy, oblivious to our conversation, bounds back over to us. “Can we see the bedrooms now? Please?”
Mark laughs and gestures toward the hallway. “Go ahead.”
“Race ya,” Hardy says to me.
“Sure,” I say.
“One, two, three… go!” He takes off running, and I lazily lumber behind him, putting in just enough effort so it’s not completely obvious I’m not participating.
