Page 34 of Run, Run, Roommates
We heel-toe to the bench seats and Brin sits down hard. “We’ll get you some caffeine,” I say as she yawns again. I get down on my knees and unlace her boots for her.
“I’ll be fine once I get to work.”
“Let’s hope so,” I mutter.
17
Brin
The amount of trust Marco has in me must be exorbitant, because he places my ice skate between his legs while he unlaces it. Any man that’s okay putting an eight-or-so-inch blade that close to his junk is brave.
Stepping onto the ice had been a little scary, but Marco oozes confidence and the way he matter-of-factly goes about things is addictive. I had joked about that dad watching the girl skate being an airport dad, but honestly, Marco gives me those vibes too.
Like how he held my hand while we skated, using it to carefully steer me or provide me support. And now, he’s kneeling on the floor, having not even taken off his own skates yet, and is putting my feet back into my unsexy black work sneakers.
It’s so hard for him to see himself as not an asshole, but I see it every day.
Done, he pivots to sit next to me on the bench, swapping his skates out while I wait. I have to admit, I am tired. Staying up late last night and then getting up so early to watch the sunrise has taken a toll on me.
“Marco? Wait, Brie?”
The voice jolts me upright, and the name—a nickname I only used on Sugary—makes my stomach sink like lead.
“Wow, I did not recognize you the other day.” Greg sits down next to Marco, ice skates in hand, but his eyes are on me.
Marco glances at me. “You two have met?”
Greg smiles, warm eyes twinkling. The devil in disguise. “You could say that. Went on a couple dates. You went by Brie on the app, though, right?”
My stomach dips. He could be talking about any app but he’s specifically not mentioning the name. Does he not want Marco to know he was on Sugary?
“Right,” I say, looking away and down to adjust the tongue of my sneakers.
Marco turns to Greg, and I don’t know if he does it to divert Greg’s attention away from me, but he asks how the scavenger hunt is going for his team.
“Good.” Greg says it smugly. “I won’t tell you how many points we have, because I don’t want you thinking there’s any hope for you to win our bet. We’ve been going hard for the creativity points, so it’ll all boil down to the judges’ scoring.”
I’m relieved to have Greg’s attention off me. I’m fine with letting the guys have their own little contest as long as I don’t have to be involved. If we win, I’ll have to figure out a way to not be around when Greg is playing Marco’s errand boy.
If we lose, though . . . maybe I’ll never have to see Greg again. I don’t think Marco and I have done well on our creativity points. We’ve mostly been trying to cross off as many items as we can. I mean, it’s hard to skate creatively when you’ve never skated before, but I’m getting worried. We’re already constrained by my work schedule, and the clock is ticking.
“We’ll see,” Marco says. He then stands, grabbing my hand to pull him up with me. “We’ve got to get going. Have fun skating.”
They fist-bump and Marco guides me out of the area, his hand on the small of my back. When we’re clear of the crowd and headed toward the subway, Marco leans in. “You dated?”
“A while ago, and it was one date. It’s not a big deal.”
Marco drops it and we get in line for coffee.
Why didn’t I say anything to him before? Because I am embarrassed by the whole Sugary thing? Or is it because Marco likes Greg, and I don’t want to risk him not believing me?
Or do I just want it all to go away? To not upset anyone and ignore the problem? Classic fawning move.
Great, now I’m psychoanalyzing myself.
The Sugary thing is embarrassing. Signing up for a “luxury dating app” that is actually full of women looking for a sugar daddy and men who are willing to “spoil” their dates is not something Brin two years ago would have done. My parents definitely would have had a lot of nasty things to say about me signing up for it, but I’m working really hard to not let them make me feel bad anymore.
When Marco had asked me what my type was, the first thing that came to mind was how much Greg and Marco are alike—tall, dark hair, lean and fit bodies, an affinity for suits, and an aura of Men Who Get Shit Done. Handsome.
