"Audrey?"

Evan's voice reaches me through a soft, glowing haze of tiredness. Without even thinking about it, I reach for him. He snuggles up against my chest and I wrap my arms around his head. A small part of me worries that doing this will push the soft tissue of my breasts up and keep him from breathing. The rest of me decides that I'll just let him sort that out himself.

He kisses between my breasts as I open my eyes. With his messy hair, love-drunk eyes and the pale-yellow fabric of my sheets around him, he looks like a heavenly vision.

"Can I take a shower?" he asks.

I furrow my brow. "You don't have to ask."

He smiles. He's so happy. Despite all of his circumstances, he looks completely at peace. "I didn't want to assume. What if your water is crazy expensive or something?"

I make a weird face at him as we both laugh. "I rent, I don't pay for water," I remind him as he gently untangles himself from me.

"Some people do," he says, standing up from the bed. I survey the gorgeous expanse of pale skin and tattooed artistry in front of me. He blushes a little, then turns to walk to the bathroom. As he goes, I get a great view of his butt and lament the fact that I let that part of him go unnoticed earlier.

Never again.

I yawn as I sit up and pull my bathrobe off of a hook by my bed. It's a thin, mint-green cotton garment that feels soft against my skin. I deeply enjoy the feeling of vinyl beneath my feet as I walk over to the kitchen and open the freezer in search of a frozen pizza.

By the time the oven has finished preheating, Evan rejoins me with a towel around his waist.

"Ooh, pizza?" he asks, looking at the frozen block of dough and cheese as I lower it into the oven. "Can I have some?"

"Of course," I say. He's just too adorable. "What's mine is yours, Evan."

"I..." he sighs, reaching up to run his fingers through his wet hair. "Like, you're clearly better off than me, right? But you're going to college and you don't have a job. I'm trying to remind myself not to assume that you'll share everything."

"My dad pays my rent and I get money each term for living expenses. I'm fine. I wouldn't offer anything I couldn't," I say, beyond touched by his concern.

"Yeah, but isn't most of that loans?" he asks uncomfortably.

"No. Most of it is scholarships and grants. Remember, I was in the foster system. It sucked, but there's lots of programs to help kids who were in the system attend college." I smile as I lean up for a kiss. "Here's my financial situation. I have to be careful. No crazy nights out, no five-dollar cocktails... but I don't go hungry. I have clothes and furniture and all of my textbooks. My conditioner comes from Ulta, not Walmart. Besides," I say, pointing down at the floor. "You saved me a huge chunk of change on the floor. I'm fine."

He smiles. "Okay. Thanks for the... transparency."

I nod, reaching for his hands. "The taboo around money discussions is stupid. I'll straight-up roll out my tax returns if you're curious."

He laughs. "Sexy."

Evan lowers his face to mine and kisses me. I rest my hands on his shoulders and rub away the spare droplets of water that cling to his skin.

"Let me wash your clothes for you," I say, patting his arm as I leave him in the kitchen. I reach down to start to collect his discarded clothes from all over my apartment, but he snatches them up before I can.

"I can do it," he insists. He points in the direction of the bathroom. "It's so cool you have a washer and dryer in the unit."

"Yeah," I say earnestly. "That was one of my dad's must-haves when we went apartment shopping. He's... if he had his way, I would have a million-dollar security detail everywhere I went. He liked the idea of me having one less reason to be out in public."

"I support that. Do you have anything else to wash?" he asks.

I make the mistake of glancing over at my bed, internally sighing at the chore of washing the sheets, and in a flash, Evan is there, stripping them off of the bed.

I pull clean sheets from a drawer and begin to put them on the bed while Evan starts the laundry in the bathroom. His eagerness to help with chores makes me smile.

And it's now that I consider something I've been trying to avoid thinking about.

I can't let Evan go back to the Mission. It seems so cruel. I care about him. I want him here. I want him to live without a curfew and eat whenever he wants. I want him to be able to watch TV. I want that money he's been saving to go toward a car, or some new clothes. Something that could help him get a job.

But I can't kid myself. Inviting him to stay with me could be a kamikaze on our relationship. And I don't want anything to ruin this.

Evan returns and helps me finish laying my covers down over the fresh sheets. And it is here, as I watch his tattooed hands carefully tuck the blanket into place, I know that the decision should be his to make.

"Evan... I don't want you to stay at the Mission tonight. Or tomorrow. Or at all. I want you to stay here."

Evan looks up at me and shakes his head. I feel like he might have been anticipating this discussion. "Nope. I'm not taking advantage of your generosity."

"You're not taking advantage of anything, Evan. I'm-"

"Audrey, if I weren't homeless, you wouldn't make this offer so soon," he says quietly. He shakes his head again. "I appreciate you, I really do, but I can't do that."

My mind spins. I remember how he wouldn't accept anything he perceived as generosity when he did the flooring.

"Then be my roommate," I offer, my voice neutral. "I'll write up a contract. You can pay half of the rent so my dad doesn't have to." I take a breath. "This isn't for you, Evan. This is for me. I... I really like you, and I don't want to be alone."

He considers this. "How much is rent?"

"Eight hundred."

He scoffs. "No, really."

"Eight hundred. It's a studio. And the landlord hasn't raised my rent since I moved in because I work at the Mission," I insist. "Can you do that? Four hundred a month?"

He nods, taking a deep breath. "I want it in that contract that I sign that I have to leave whenever you tell me to."

I decide that Evan likely has some clinical anxiety. He wants to eliminate all extraneous variables for himself, but also for me.

I nod and reach across the bed for a handshake. Evan studies my eyes carefully before he reaches his long, ink-stained arm to complete the handshake.

And then I see a tear roll down his cheek. My hand falls to my side as I round the bed to him. "Evan? What's wrong?"

He swallows, wiping his eyes. He hugs me, burying his face in my hair. "Just... thank you, Audrey. Thank you."

I hug him close. Tears prickle into my own eyes when I realize why he's crying. He's relieved. No more worrying about where he'll spend the night. No more panicking about someone taking his belongings. He has a bed now. A roof over his head. Guaranteed privacy. All of the things I take for granted.

"It's okay, Evan," I say, pulling us both to sit on the bed. "This is what I want, too. It's not just for you."

"I know. I just... I won't fuck this up. I promise."

"I wouldn't have offered if I thought you would fuck it up," I remind him. The oven dings, announcing the pizza is done. "Come on, let's eat. Then we can go get your stuff from the Mission."

"Thank you," he whispers again, seeming to be completely beside himself.

I kiss his cheek. "You're welcome."

Gasp! They were roommates!

I couldn't get that out of my head as I uploaded this part.

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