“Aiden?” I called out as I dragged my feet toward the door.
Sure enough, his dark facial hair greeted me through the peephole before I let him in with a yawn and a small frown.
The man who was apparently going to be my new roommate, amongst other things, strolled in, not muttering a good morning or anything. Instead, he waited until I locked the door before giving me a lazy look. “You aren’t dressed yet?”
I had to stifle another yawn, covering my mouth with my hand. “It’s seven thirty. What are you doing here?”
“Helping you move,” he said, like I was asking a dumb question.
“Oh.” He was? He’d said something about it only taking a few trips to move my things, but I’d assumed it would take me a few trips. Huh. “Okay. I was just about to make waffles… do you want some?”
Aiden eyed me for a moment before turning around and continuing on to the kitchen. His head turned from left to right in what I assumed was him either making sure that I had actually gotten some packing done, or taking inventory of what I had left to go. I’d bubble-wrapped all my artwork two days ago. My clothes were all in boxes the people at the grocery store were nice enough to let me have. My books and knickknacks were packed. My television and desktop computer were the only items that hadn’t been prepped, but I had almost every blanket and comforter I owned in the living room waiting to get put to good use.
“Which recipe?” he had the nerve to inquire.
“The cinnamon one.” Before he could ask, I added, “I’m not using eggs.”
He nodded and took a seat at the table, still not exactly subtle in his perusal. All my dishes, utensils, and pots were already out and stacked on the countertops, waiting for their new owners to come and take them. I’d been lugging them around since college, and I figured they’d gone above and beyond the call of duty.
I made more batter and then poured it into the hot waffle iron, keeping an eye on Aiden as he kept taking in my belongings. “What are you doing with the rest of your furniture?”
“My neighbor upstairs is taking the mattress, dining room table, and the dishes.” She was a single mom with five kids. I’d seen her mattress during the few occasions I’d babysat, and my things were definitely an improvement. The dining room table was also a nice addition to the empty space she had where one would have normally sat, even though there weren’t enough chairs for her and all the kids. “My next-door neighbor is taking the couch, the bed frame, dresser, and coffee table for his daughter.”
“They’re coming to get it today?”
“Yep, but my neighbor upstairs is a single mom, and I want to help her.”
“Did you pay the rest of your lease off already?”
I glanced at him from the other side of the kitchen. “Not yet. I was going to go to the business office before I leave.”
“How much do you owe?”
I might have muttered the amount.
There was a pregnant pause before Aiden asked, “For a month?”
I coughed. “No, that’s two months.”
Was he breathing louder than normal? “Did I really pay you that little?”
Again with a comment about my place. “No.” I fought the urge to scowl. I had other things to spend my money on. I didn’t need to explain myself to him.
Did he roll his eyes? “I brought enough cash.”
Was I supposed to say ‘No, don’t worry about it. I have it?’ or was it okay for me to accept it? Ideally, he was already doing more than enough for me for the next five years when I really didn’t have to do much more than sign some paperwork, and make sure I didn’t fall in love with someone…
Okay, that was guilt sweeping along the lining of my stomach, and I knew what it meant. “Don’t worry about it. I can pay for it.” I didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, or whatever it could be called.
Aiden just shrugged.
A few minutes later, the waffles were ready and we ate in silence at the table, both of us eating efficiently and quickly. I washed off our dishes and dried them, leaving them on the stack with the others.
“Let’s get the things your neighbors are taking out of here first, then pack up the cars,” Aiden suggested, his fingers dipping into the front of his shirt to pluck at the medallion hanging around his neck. He moved it so that it lay against the back of his neck, the chain it was on tight around the front of his throat. I’d always wondered where he’d got it from—especially since as far as I knew, he wasn’t a religious person—but it was another one of those things he’d never bothered sharing.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, eyeing the hint of gold one more time. Oh well.
Once on the floor above mine, the single mother opened the door on the second knock, accepting the box of glasses I’d carried up the stairs. “You’re leaving now?” she asked me in Spanish.
“Yes. Do you want to send some of the kids down with me to help carry some things?”
Mrs. Huerta nodded and called her three oldest children to help. The eleven, nine, and eight-year-old hugged my hips and then ran down the stairs ahead of me, already fully aware of what they were keeping. The three of them barged in and headed straight toward the kitchen, slowing down when they spotted the big man transferring boxes from my bedroom into the hallway.
One by one, they each grabbed cups, pots, pans, or utensils and headed back out. I grabbed two chairs from the dining room table and made my way toward the stairs, shooting Aiden a tight smile when our eyes met on the way out. I had just deposited them in my neighbor’s living room when a shadow appeared at the doorway, carrying the other two chairs under his arms effortlessly.
“Dios santo. Es tu novio?” the slightly older woman asked from her spot on the couch.
Boyfriend? I felt my eyes bulge but nodded, maybe a bit robotically. “Si.” What else was I going to call him? I was probably lucky enough that she didn’t have time to watch football, and had no idea who he was.
She glanced in Aiden’s direction once more, balancing her three-year-old on her lap, and gradually nodded, impressed. “He’s handsome,” she said in Spanish. “And those muscles.” Mrs. Huerta added a grin to the end of her comment that had me giving her a timid smile.
“Ya se,” I said in a mutter before darting back out of the apartment and heading downstairs. I knew? Well, it was the truth. I did know he had some guns. And a chest. And that ass. I could have done worse. Maybe he had little desire for social skills and maybe he didn’t really care about anyone but himself, but he could be worse. He could be a psychopath who did bad things to animals, I guess.
I found Aiden in my apartment with the table flipped on its back, unscrewing the top of it from the legs with a pocket multi-tool I wasn’t sure where he’d gotten. He glanced up when he sensed me standing there. “What else are they taking?”
“The mattress.”
He hummed and nodded.
Forty minutes later, I had sweat pouring down my face, but Aiden and I had managed to carry the mattress up the stairs. Weight-wise, he could have carried it up by himself without a huff or a puff, but apparently, it was too big to carry alone, and my puny muscles had struggled. We set the older mattress where my neighbor’s blow-up bed had been the last time I’d come over. I’d offered the bed frame to her but understood why she hadn’t wanted it—two mattresses would barely fit in the tiny one bedroom that was built for maybe two occupants but not six.
Luckily, by the time we were done, my next-door neighbor’s sons were waiting outside my door to help move the rest of the furniture into his place. Aiden and I sat across from each other in the bedroom, taking the bed apart so it could be easier to move. I caught him looking at the multiple night lights I hadn’t gotten a chance to pack away. He didn’t ask about them, and I was pretty grateful.