Page 26 of The Jerk in Apartment 1B

I sit down on it. “Where’d you get this?”

“From my apartment. Lay down on it. See if it’s good enough to sleep on.”

Keeping my eye on him, I slowly lay down.

“It’s not bad.” I turn on my side, which is how I sleep. “It’s a lot better than the floor.”

“Why don’t you have a bed?”

“Long story.” I get up. “Anyway, thanks for bringing this over, but I don’t need it. My friend’s going to loan me her inflatable mattress. I just need to go get it.”

“How long is she letting you borrow it?”

“I’m not sure. She didn’t say.”

He points to the lounger. “Why don’t you keep this for now? At least it’s something to sit on.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“So are we good?”

“I don’t know,” I say, eyeing him. “Are you having another party tonight?”

“No, but I might have a few people over.”

“That sounds like a party.”

“Hey.” Cole appears at the door. “You two work everything out?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Scott says.

I’ve decided to refer to him as his name since he’s loaning me the pool float. It doesn’t make up for last night, but it’s a nice gesture and makes him a little less of a jerk.

“That’s yet to be decided,” I say, not ready to let him off the hook.

“So you want to join us for breakfast?” Cole asks.

“I’m going to pass,” I say. “I need to run some errands.”

“You at least need to try a cinnamon roll. I’ll bring one over.” He takes off.

“He’s always pushing his baked goods on people,” Scott says. “You just gotta go with it or you’ll hurt his feelings.”

“I don’t mind. I love cinnamon rolls. I just think it’s odd that a guy who looks like that would eat something that isn’t healthy.”

“He works out a lot. He burns off whatever he eats.”

Cole returns with a cinnamon roll on a paper plate. He hands it to me. “Let me know what you think.”

I take a bite. It’s flaky and buttery and has just the right amount of cinnamon. “It’s really good. You made this from scratch?”

“Yeah. Why? Doesn’t it taste homemade?”

“It does. You just…” I pause, not sure how to say this. “You don’t seem like someone who bakes.”

“It’s just a hobby.” He smiles a little. “And the ladies seem to like it.”

“You wouldn’t believe what women will do for a batch of his homemade brownies,” Scott says.

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