Eight

Shane stood outside Jocelyn's open door, wondering what the hell had just happened.

One minute she had been so angry, she had even attempted to hit him. And no one had ever dared to even think of it. The next minute, she was pulling back, all trace of her anger melted away. Her light blue eyes were sparkling with something akin to excitement, he had seen people trying to school their emotions, but their eyes would always give them away. However, her eyes were devoid of any such emotion, she even seemed happy about everything.

He began to doubt if he had even witnessed the anger.

"The air conditioning will go off soon, please close my door. You can choose to come in or you can shut the door as you leave, I'm trying to conserve as much of the cool air as I can," she called from inside.

He walked in, then closed the door. Her apartment looked nothing like his, he was sure his bathroom would not fit into the whole space. It was probably twice the size of her entire apartment.

But as tiny as the apartment was, it had a warm feel to it. The walls were covered in paintings, books were cluttered on the coffee table in the middle of the living room, actual flowers were in vases, not the plastic and fake ones, he wondered who they were from.

"Nice house.Tiny, but nice," he complimented as he walked further into the apartment.

She huffed, "Not what you are used to huh?" She sat at a stool and pulled off her sneakers. Her toes were unpainted and he found it strange yet attractive. Most of the women he knew painted their nails, he had to look at his own toes to remind himself that God didn't create them red or black or blue.

"But its nice," he replied.

She took off her jacket and neatly folded it. "Are you hungry? I'll make a sandwich."

She walked into a tiny kitchen and Shane followed, completely drawn to her.

He shook his head, then pulled out a stool at the breakfast table.

She nodded then began to prepare sandwiches for herself. "Why are you here?" She asked, drawing Shane's attention from her exposed arms.

They were nice, he had to admit, they looked silky and soft. He imagined what they would feel like against his skin.

"To go over stuff. But we can do that while getting you some clothes."

"Clothes? I have enough," she drew her brows together in confusion.

"Let me guess, the ridiculous short skirts you wear at Mallory's ? Or a large number of horrible jeans and t-shirts?"

Her eyes darkened, exciting him. Shane was happy to get a rise out of her.

She blinked twice and her eyes cleared, returning to its fascinating light blue color. "What's wrong with them?"

"They are not decent enough. My mother is a very active socialite."

"Your mother?" She stuttered.

"That's the main reason I'm here. She called to have breakfast with me. When I drove up to her house, she asked where you lived. I panicked and said you moved in with me. Then things got out of hand. She's spending a week with us."

"You panicked?"

"You don't know my mother, that woman can fish out your deepest secrets. Anyway, that's beside the point. We have to pick up some things and set them up at my place before 6pm," Shane said plucking a sandwich from her plate. She glared at him as he bit into the peanut butter sandwich.

"What's happening at 6pm?" Jocelyn asked, shifting her plate of sandwiches away from his grabby hands.

"My driver is picking her up," he grabbed her orange juice before she could move it.

"That's mine," she eyed him. "You can figure something out, I've got studying to do."

"Please. My mother is a handful. You have to help. I'll do anything," Shane pleaded, reaching for her hand. She pulled away immediately as if his touch burnt her.

"Anything?" She asked.

"Yes."

"Good. I'll save it for later. Let me just grab a jacket."

She dumped what was left of the sandwiches into the waste bin, then washed the plate at the sink, rinsing out the left-over orange juice.

He handed the jacket she had folded to her, smiling, "Found one."

She pulled it on, then slipped into her shoes. He opened the door for her, waiting till she was out before he shut it. She stopped, pulling out a bunch of keys and proceeded to lock it.

They remained silent until they got into the elevators.

"I have various conditions," Jocelyn started, crossing her arms on her chest.

"I'm listening," he replied staring at the side of her face. She really was pretty. Her dark blonde hair was a mass of rioting curls, framing her face perfectly.

"We'll have separate bedrooms. And I will get another job."

Shane was not passing up the opportunity of sharing a room with her.

"No! My mother will get suspicious. And she's a little bit of a blabbermouth. If she sees through us, who knows what she'll be telling her friends. I can't fuck up this deal."

"Then you are going to get a couch or something. I'm not sharing a bed with you. I'll move out once she leaves," Jocelyn agreed after much deliberating.

"Thanks. You can get a job after the wedding."

She smiled at him, then got out of the elevator.

"Thanks, Josie," he called out, walking fast to match her brisk pace.

"I didn't agree with the job part."

Shane rolled his eyes behind her. When the time came, he would be sure to cancel all job interviews. He couldn't have his wife serving pizza to the public.

Wife! He smiled at the thought.