Page 12 of Sam (Eye Candy Ink)

“Alright,” I relent, reaching for my car door when he smiles at me. “You can meet me at my place.”

He nods, waiting until I’m inside my car with it started before he heads over to his. I see that it’s parked close by and I wait until he’s in before I pull out of the lot and make the short drive home. The whole way home I’m wondering how messy my apartment is. I’ve been working the last four days so I haven’t had much time to pick up or do chores. Maybe I can rush inside and upstairs before he gets here.

That thought was dashed when I park and look up to see Max already walking my way.How the hell did he find a parking spot so fast?He opens my door for me and I slide out.

“Thanks,” I say as I grab the bag with the shoes and hair dye.

He nods, taking the bag from me as I lead us inside the building and up to my apartment.

“It might be a little bit of a mess,” I warn as I unlock the door.

“I don’t mind messy.”

Something about the way he says it has me pausing. It sounds like he’s talking about more than my apartment and my heart clenches as I bite back a grin. I push the door open and usher him inside.

My place is nothing fancy. A studio apartment closer to the outskirts than downtown but it’s close to work and was all that I could afford if I didn’t want to have three roommates. Everything is out in the open except the bathroom and I wince when I see the dirty dishes piled in the sink and my hamper in the corner overflowing with clothes.

“I expected more color,” Max says as he turns in a circle in the center of the space.

“More color?”

“Yeah, on the walls and stuff. Everything is white and black. It kind of looks like my place.”

“Paint is expensive and I’m not here all that much. Maybe if I owned my own place I would paint and decorate more but I rent this.”

I look around, trying to see what he sees. The walls are all an off-white color and I never got around to hanging anything up so they’re all bare. My futon is black and off to one side, pulled out since I never bother making it. I have one end table next to that that’s also black and serves as a little kitchen table as well. The appliances in the kitchen are all white. The only color besides that is the carpet which is brown and I’m not sure if that really counts as color.

“Eat first?” He asks, holding up the brown paper bag.

“Sure,” I say, heading past him to grab two plates from the cabinet and some silverware.

He’s pulled everything out and set it on the little kitchen island and I pass him one of the plates and a fork before I start lifting the lids off the containers.

“Burgers and fries okay?” He asks and my stomach growls.

He grins and I nod, biting into my burger. We eat standing up at the little island. My kitchen light bulb burned out the other day so the only light is from the lamp in the living room. I suddenly feel self conscious. Max is some super successful dude. Is he going to take one look at all of this and never call me again?

I set the french fry I had been about to eat down and push my takeout container away from me, suddenly losing my appetite. When I look up, Max is watching me with a thoughtful look on his face.

“What?” I snap.

He smiles softly.

“I’m just waiting for the next test.”

“What? What test?”

“That’s how you get to trust people. You give them little tests. If they don’t pass, then you write them off as someone who doesn’t care about you in the long run.”

“No, I don’t,” I insist, my stomach tightening.

Do I really do that?

“You did it with Mischa at the club, wanting to see if I would fight for you. The piercing yesterday? To see if I was willing to go through whatever for you. I promise you, Samantha. I’m here for the long haul. I’d do anything for you.”

“Even live here? With my one lightbulb and sink full of dirty dishes?”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” The excitement and hope in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by me and I shift.

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