Everyone looked at me.

“Just … nobody say a word. Let me handle it.”

“I feel like this is a joke,” Hannah said. “Is she playing a joke on us?”

“No, but it’s still funny,” Chuck said, trying not to laugh.

I made my way to the front door, not at all in a hurry, stopping just shy of an arm’s length away. “What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to seem exasperated.

“Laundry day,” he said, grinning from one ear to the other.

“Okay. You still haven’t explained why you’re here.”

“Do you have a washer and dryer?”

“Yes.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Do people not know how to ask to borrow things where you’re from?”

“Illinois.”

“I know where you’re from!” I growled.

Taylor’s smile faded. “Can I borrow your washer and dryer?”

“No!”

He looked both ways, down each direction of the street, and then back at me. “Well … is there a Laundromat nearby?”

“On Platte Avenue. Just turn left on Platte, off Tejon. It’s just before you get to Institute Street. Right across from the supply store,” Phaedra called.

I spun around to see her pointing in the correct direction. I shot her a look, and she shrugged her shoulders.

“You wanna come?” he asked. “Laundromats are boring as fuck.”

I pressed my lips together and then pulled them to the side, trying not to smile. This is it. I reached over and turned the key that was already in the lock. “Come in.”

“You sure?”

“Oh, now, you’re worried about overstepping?”

“Not really,” he said, walking past me. “Up the stairs, right?”

It had to be fate. Taylor was like a stray puppy that I’d fed once, and now, he wouldn’t go away. He also happened to be from the exact town I’d been saving money to visit all this time.

I closed the door and cranked the key before facing four identical smirks from my coworkers.

“You coming?” Taylor asked from the bottom of the stairs, still hugging his full laundry basket.

“Well,” I said, blowing my bangs from my eyes, “why the hell not?”

Chapter Six

I opened the door for Taylor, watching with a glimmer of amusement while he made a show of glancing around. His shorts sat low on his hips, and he turned his white hat backward, taking in every corner of the room. He was a man I would normally stay far away from, and there he was, beautifully sloppy, standing in my apartment.

“Is this a satisfactory location to do your laundry?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Monumentally better than the Laundromat.” He pushed the door close. “Where’s your laundry room?”