Page 69 of The Wild Card
He points to the kitchen island, where I can see a cutting board covered with cheese, crackers, and some other snacky items. Suddenly, I’m starving.
As I sit down, Collin hands me a little plate. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just put some things together.”
“I guess we don’t know much about each other, do we?”
“Not yet,” he says, and the way his eyes light up makes it seem like this is a challenge he’s looking forward to.
“Well, first of all, I don’t like pickles. They’re Satan’s cucumbers.”
Collin clears his throat, lips quirking up. “You don’t say.” He grabs a bowl of tiny pickles I didn’t notice and shoves it down the counter, leaning forward so his body hides them from my line of sight.
I laugh. “Otherwise, I’m not very picky. About food or most things.”
“How do you feel about roommates you barely know?” he asks, taking the stool next to mine.
Before answering, I bite into a cracker with a slice of cheese. The cheese has the slightest hint of smokiness and only makes my hunger roar to life. I reach for another.
“It seems a little backwards that I’m concerned about the living situation when we already agreed to pretend we’re in a relationship,” I say.
“Maybe,” Collin says slowly. “But being concerned is valid. I mean, I’ve never lived with a girlfriend, so this is new territory for me.”
I do my best not to show my surprise. I guess I just assumed he would have since he’s older. And, from the sound of it, has had more serious relationships than the few short-lived ones I’ve had.
“I’ve also never lived with a boyfriend,” I tell him. “Basically, I went from college dorms and apartments to home.”
This confession only highlights how young and inexperienced I feel. Collin is probably five to seven years older than I am. Not a huge gap, but he’s definitely had more time to live an adult life, where I still feel like a kid in many ways, just getting started on the adult portion of my life.
“This place has two bedrooms, so it’s not like we’re reallyliving togetherliving together,” I add quickly. “Not, you know, sharing a room or … a bed.”
It’s stupid that I’m blushing at the mention of bed-sharing. But again, Collin and I barely know each other. I definitely didn’t think we’d be talking aboutthis.
His mouth curls up into a smile, which is even sexier now that it’s not hidden by facial hair. “No bed sharing. Got it.”
My face flames hotter. “I can find somewhere else to stay,” I offer quickly, even though I’m not entirely sure this is true. There are some hotels on the newer side of town closer to the highway. I have no idea how much they cost, but I could probably afford it until my next payment comes in a few weeks.
“No.” Collin’s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument. “If anyone goes, it will be me.”
“No way. I’m not kicking you out. This is your family’s place. You have more right to it than I do.” I pause. “But just out of curiosity—don’t you actually live in Austin?”
“Normally, yes. I figured since we’re doing this whole thing, I should be here.” Collin blows out a breath and crunches on a cracker. “Also, I’ve been staying here a lot lately and just hadn’t brought a lot of my stuff. It’s nice to be away from there with the gym and … everything.”
I knoweverythingmeans his ex. Right before I left Austin, I finally searched up Liza’s videos and, of course, watched them. At double speed and while making snarky mental comments the whole time.
Collin’s ex is a piece of work.
Definitely gorgeous—the kind of woman who understands contouring and has eyelash extensions and probably hair extensions too. But she came across as whiny and narcissistic to me.
From the comments, I’m not the only one who picked up on that. But there were a fair number who took her side. Even though she didn’t name Collin, the clues she gave in her videos made it pretty easy for commenters: a famous family, former pro athlete, owns a gym in Austin—there can’t be more than one guy who fits the bill.
Collin doesn’t have a public account, but his name was mentioned over and over in her comments and his gym, which does have an account, was tagged.
When I looked at the gym’s public profiles, the comments were flooded with hate. Whoever handles their social media isn’t handling it very well. These should be deleted and the accounts blocked. Immediately.
I can see why potential buyers are becoming hesitant.
But hopefully, that will change soon. Maybe Collin will also let me help manage the gym’s profile, at least until he sells.
“Are you really okay sharing this place with me?” Collin asks, searching my face. “I’ll take my dad’s bedroom unless you want to switch. But if you don’t feel comfortable?—”
