Page 64 of Daring the Hockey Player
"Holy crap," she says when I let her inside. "So, this is how the rich live."
"I'm not rich," I counter. But she's right. This place is spectacular, especially compared to my previous living arrangements. Her one-bedroom place isn't much better than what I had, a little bigger kitchen, but that's it.
"No, but he is. I googled the starting salary for an NHL player and holy mackerel! It's nearly a million dollars a season."
"No way." I don't believe her. She pulls it up on her phone, tapping away until she shows me the three-quarter of a million-dollar figure on the search page.
I don't want to look. I feel like it's an invasion of his privacy, a boundary that I shouldn't cross. But she shoves the phone in my face, making it impossible for me not to look.
"Good for him," I say. At least I don't feel that bad paying my tiny portion. I'd love to pay him more since we're splitting the place and living together as roommates, but I can't come anywhere close to affording this swanky space.
"Good for you," Charlotte quips. "Can you introduce me to one of his single friends? Noah is hot."
I grab two hard lemonades from the fridge and lead Charlotte into the living room. "I don't really know his friends," I admit. "I mean, other than our interaction at the bar." I grab a seat on the sofa beside my bestie. There's an empty chair opposite and the television across from us. I don't bother turning it on. I have enough entertainment with Charlotte visiting.
"You two don't hang out? And will Jasper care if you're stealing his liquor?"
"It's mine, and let's not tell him I picked it up. We need to finish the twelve-pack before he gets home."
"Or hide it under your bed." Charlotte laughs, shaking her head. "Are you seriously worried he's going to be mad when he finds out? He's not your dad. I mean, unless you like it when you call him Daddy."
I grab the throw pillow from the sofa and shuck it at her. "You're terrible, and we're practically the same age."
"Except he can legally drink," Charlotte says.
What's her point? In a few months, I'll be old enough to drink legally too. So will Charlotte.
She rolls her eyes and leans back, getting comfortable on the sofa. "Gosh, I'm so jealous you have it all, Amber. The digs. A hot boyfriend. Plus, he's in the NHL. That's like an extra check mark of awesomeness."
"Don't be jealous. My apartment burned down," I remind her.
She purses her lips. "But it's better that it did. I mean, make lemons out of lemonade."
"I think you mean make lemonade out of lemons," I correct her.
She takes another swig of her hard lemonade. "Make alcohol out of lemons. That's the winner." Charlotte stands and glances around. "Give me the tour."
"Oh, right. Sure." I'm a terrible hostess. I'm used to my studio apartment, where you pretty much see everything with one foot inside the place. I lead her around the apartment, pointing out the kitchen and living room, which she already saw. "This is the game room," I say, gesturing to the air hockey table in the middle of what would ordinarily be a dining room.
"Bachelor pad." Charlotte coughs under her breath.
I elbow her to shut up. Thankfully, Jasper isn't around to be insulted. But I don't like her picking on his place because it's mine now too.
"Show me where the magic happens."
"What?" I ask.
"His bedroom." She waggles her eyebrows.
"I'll show you my bedroom, but no magic. No action. No excitement except sleep."
"Sleep can be fun. After riding him cowgirl style," Charlotte says. She doesn't seem to know when to shut herself off.
I yank open the bedroom door. The room is plain, practical. There's a desk by the window that Jasper insisted on buying for me to study. The dresser is against the wall, and the bed is at the opposite end.
"And his room?" she asks, after glancing in at my mundane space.
"Off-limits," Jasper says, coming up from behind.
