Page 7 of Keeper
I bend over to shuffle a few toward him. He steps up close to me, brushing his arm against mine. “I’ll get these. If you can believe it, I’m even stronger now, Pop.” He winks and it makes me laugh.
“So I’ve noticed,” I murmur, grabbing a smaller box and following behind him as he weaves through the flat. I’m not even ashamed to admit I’m totally staring at his arse in those loose-fitting jeans. It’s like a peculiar time warp seeing him again, but now he’s a man instead of a boy.
He talks me through the flat as we walk, showing me the drawer my keys are in, which will get me into the building, the flat, and the gym on the top floor. The space is cosy, but not small. It’s quite perfect actually. The white-washed kitchen has a cute oak table and four white chairs that separate the space from the living room. The front room has a black leather sectional, a big screen, and modern double glazed windows that open up onto a large balcony.
I follow Booker down the hallway to the right of the living room. He points to the first door on the left that’s the bathroom where I’ll hopefully never have to poo, especially because it’s so pretty. It’s all glossy white tile with a funky modern sink that sits on top of the counter. And the glass walled shower tub…It’s sexy as fuck. I just hope and pray neither of us ever defiles it.
He stops off at the next door on the left and says it’s his room. All that sits in there amongst several boxes is a big bed, two nightstands, and two lamps. Halfway down the hall on the opposite side are bi-fold doors that contain a washer and dryer unit. Then, at the end of the hallway, he slides open a white pocket door.
“This is where you’ll be staying. It’s technically a den, so it’s a bit small. But it has its own balcony, so I thought you might prefer it.” He looks at me nervously and adds, “Of course if I’m wrong, just say the word and we’ll switch.”
I stride past him to the glass balcony door and swing it open, smiling as the smell of flowers breeze in like a dream. Fresh floral scent in the city of London. How in the world does one achieve that? It’s positively magical. It makes me think ofThe Sound of Music, running through a meadow with dancing children frolicking all around.
“…smells like flowers all the time.”
My head jerks at the sound of Booker’s voice. “What? What were you saying? I didn’t hear all that.”
His eyes crinkle with a grin as he watches me. “I said the Columbia Road Flower Market takes place near here, so that’s why it’s so fragrant.”
“It’s lovely,” I sigh. “This room is exquisite, Booker. Thank you.” I eye the daybed along the wall. “I told you I have an air mattress. You didn’t have to get me a bed.”
“Yes I did,” he murmurs and drops the boxes on the floor. “I wish it could be bigger, but—”
“It’s perfect. Everything is perfect.”
He smiles and looks around the room, stuffing his hands in his pockets and appearing a bit nervous all of the sudden. “Well, I’ve got unpacking to do as I’m sure you do, so I’ll…leave you to it.”
He slides the door closed as he leaves and I exhale heavily, not realising that I was holding my breath. This entire scenario may be more difficult than I thought. Sharing a bedroom wall with my best friend—whom I thought I was in love with—has the potential to be epically awesome…or epically awful.
It’ll be awesome. I’ve decided.
I’m not the same girl I was six years ago. I’ve grown and matured. I’ve had real relationships, not figments of my imagination. I’m notin lovewith Booker Harris anymore. He’s simply my best friend whom I’m excited to spend some time with again. This is great. We’ll be like brother and sister!
AFTER SEVERAL HOURS OF SOLITUDE, my room is finally a room. Clothes are in the wardrobe, toiletries are in the bathroom. I was able to fit all of my items on the vanity shelves behind the mirror, leaving the large cupboard beside it open for Poppy’s items.
It’ll be weird sharing a bathroom with a girl. Sure I grew up with a sister. But Vi had her own bathroom that we were never allowed to use, so I don’t know how many items Poppy will have to store in there. All I know is that I need to do my best to put the toilet seat down so she doesn’t fall in. Vi’s been bashing me over the head about that for the past week since I told her Poppy is staying with me for a couple months.
I can handle this.
When I come out of my room to toss the empty boxes, a strange noise stops me in my tracks. It sounded like a tiny yelp coming from Poppy’s room. I freeze to see if I hear it again and then the yelp morphs into a whimper. Alarmed, I eat up the small space between our bedroom doors. Without bothering to knock, I slide it open and look around quickly to see what’s wrong.
Amongst a sea of cardboard boxes, I catch sight of Poppy on her knees, arse in the air with the top half of her body beneath the bed. She lets out a cry of pain.
“Poppy, are you all right?” I drop to my knees beside her and hesitate with my hands, not knowing where to put them on her for comfort since it’s pretty much just her arse sticking out.
“No,” she moans.
“What’s happened?” I look under the bed and see her face red with pain and her hair tangled in the springs.
“My hair is stuck on the lovely bed you bought for me. I’ve been trying to free it for ages.” Her voice wobbles with emotion. “I think I might have to cut it off, and I don’t have that much hair left to begin with. I’m going to look like a boy.”
I sit up from my position and try to stifle my laugh. My eyes roam the swells of her arse beneath the tight white trousers she’s wearing. A nude lace thong peeks out the top. “You couldneverlook like a boy.”
“Well, are you going to sit there and feed me lies, or are you going to help me?” she exclaims.
Right. Help. She needs help. I flip over onto my back and pull myself under the bed beside her. Our eyes find each other in the dark. “You’ve really got a mess here, haven’t you?” I begin plucking small strands of hair out of the frame as gently as possible.
“Yes. And my arse muscles are screaming because this position is not comfortable. Remind me to stop skipping leg days.”
