Page 43 of The Inevitable Us

He grunts. “It’s a bitch to carry groceries across the street.”Yes, that’s reason enough for your thievery, Sawyer.

Pulling into the spot next to mine, he grabs Ranger’s leash and walks him inside the elevator. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he presses the floor we need to enter the lobby from the garage.

We’re given several startled looks when we walk past people in the lobby with Ranger. Maybe because of his size, maybe because he’s carrying a stuffed toy and nervously pressing down on the squeaker with his large mouth every few minutes.

Sawyer lets us into my place and flicks on the lights. I yawn and kick off my shoes in front of the door in a heap.

I walk into the bathroom to grab the kittens and carry them upstairs with me. “Going to change,” I sigh out.

“I’m coming too,” Sawyer yawns. “This suit is hot. I’m tempted to start meeting clients in a Polo.”

I unfasten my jacket as I go, discarding it and my pants in a messy heap on the floor that Sawyer scowls at. In just my bra and panties, I flop down onto the bed, flat on my belly. “I need a shower and a power nap.”

Sawyer lays his coat over the vanity stool and undresses, placing his shoes neatly together by the door. I watch his corded muscles ripple with movement as he strips off his navy dress shirt. “Me too. Only slept for a few hours total.”

He slides into bed on his side, pulling the comforter over us, then glides his hands over my back, draping it across my waist as we both fall asleep.

“Rosalie,Ihavetogo run Ranger. Wanna come with me?”

I answer with a groan of protest, half asleep.

“Rosalie,” he laughs, softly kissing me. “You’re exhausted; I’ll see you in a bit, Baby Girl.”

The sheet next to me is cold already when I throw back the blanket. Walking over to the dresser, I open the top drawer, half asleep.

I expect to see my under things. Instead, I find what appears to be a new package of men’s socks folded together neatly in the drawer. Sawyer’s style of boxers, carefully rolled and lined up, sit next to a neat square of carefully folded white t-shirts and a lone pair of navy pajama pants.

While the contents look new, they smell like my fabric softener. Apparently, he not only helped himself to a drawer, but he’d also purchased and washed the new items before carefully storing them inmyunderwear drawer.

I pull out the next drawer and find my panties now stored next to my socks. Grabbing a pair of panties, I close the drawer with an irritated flick of my wrist.Seriously, Sawyer?I would have given him a drawer if he’d asked. It’s the not asking that bothers me.

Despite the support of the fugly non-slip supportive clogs that are part of the culinary school’s uniform, my feet are aching as I walk down the stairs to shower.

He’s made changes to the bathroom as well. He might as well have peed a circle around the loft. A navy and white towel now hangs next to my tangerine and teal towel that perfectly coordinates my bathroom. When I open the curtain, a blue bottle of two-in-one body wash/shampoo is sitting on the edge of the tub, loudly declaringa man showers here.I lift it, testing its weight, and find it completely full. He’d purchased it when he bought the rest of his things today.

I’m grumpy and tired, but the towel irritates me. Helping himself to a drawer without asking? No. Washing the day off myself, I leave the shower smelling of vanilla bean body scrub and wrap my matching, pretty towel around my body, shooting an irritated look at Sawyer’s mismatched towel.

His razor, a wooden bowl, and shaving brush are on the counter, next to my mouthwash and floss. The scent of the bourbon and oak shaving soap fills my nostrils as I stare into the foggy mirror for a moment trying to think of precisely how I’m going to handle this, handlehim.We’ve shared certain intimacies the past few days, but I carefully packed my belongings and took them with me. Isn’t having a drawer at someone’s house a phase in a relationship?

Irritated, I reach for my toothbrush, pausing when I see two new matching toothbrushes sticking out of the holder. One pink, one black. I’d needed to replace mine and mentioned it. Sawyer must have remembered.

I freeze, staring at the simple intimacy of two toothbrushes, each half of a matching twin pack sitting next to one another. Sawyer’s toothbrush.

For years I’ve worked for the tiniest bit of his attention, his time. Sharing such a tiny intimacy with Sawyer had felt like a pipe dream.

Some girls would passive-aggressively pack each item and hand it back to Sawyer. Others would sit down and discuss it with him. Grinning at his toothbrush in the holder, I decide to enjoy the happiness of the tiniest intimacy with Sawyer and plot.

He’s still not getting away with this.

He’swaitingonthecurb to pick me up from class the next afternoon. I’d started to go on foot, saying it’s impossible to park on campus. He grabbed his keys and told me he’d drop me off.

I haven’t said anything about his invasion yet, even when he opened the drawer to find everything undisturbed and smiled smugly at me.

When we get back to the loft, I pack for a few days since “we don’t sleep apart” and throw in a few extra things I’ll need.

“What’s all this?” Sawyer asks, pulling a third bag over his shoulder.

“Oh, I thought since I’m going to spend so much time over there, I’d bring a few things with me to keep at your place.”

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