Amanda Jason: Lucky Number Four

“Ah, she has arrived with the rest of the ingredients for tonight’s cuisine.” He grabs the two bags from my aching arms and plops them down on the counter. “Hey chick, you look tired. You know you should really get more sleep.”

I want to wipe that grin from his face, but I can never stay mad at Kevin for very long, I just can’t.

“Julie called. She’ll be late. The slave driver wanted an impromptu office meeting. Dinner will be ready in about an hour. Why don’t you take a nap?”

“I wish. I unfortunately have homework that won’t do itself. Your day must have been good since you’re so happy and all.”

“Every day is an awesome day,” he says. “I have a job I love, a woman I love, and a roommate I adore. What else could a man ask for?”

I shake my head at his dimpled cheeks as he smiles. Growing up in a small town, Julie, Kevin, and I were like the Three Musketeers. Our parents were good friends and we went on family camping trips and vacations together. It was like having three sets of parents, which was fun until we got into trouble, and then it was a nightmare.

Kevin was goofy looking when he was younger, and majorly awkward when he went through his growth spurt until he reached his final height of six foot three and a half. His parents encouraged him to play sports and he excelled, winning a scholarship to a college out west. His dark brown hair, good looks, height and adorable dimples had panting females following him everywhere.

In contrast, Julie is blonde, fair-skinned and, like me, short. We had a growing contest as kids and to our delight, we grew to the same height of five feet four inches.

We would never be mistaken as twins, though. She always looks put together and I always look thrown together. I think she’s far prettier too. Her natural light blonde hair is straight and falls like a waterfall down her back. Well, when she doesn’t have it up for her job as a social worker. Mine is a red, curly mess. It’s as long as Julie’s, but mine could never be described as a waterfall—more like tangled vines. I don’t tan, but Julie can and used to. Now she shies away from the sun since her dad was diagnosed with skin cancer. Her skin is blemish free while mine has a few freckles—okay, so I have more than a few. Sun kisses, my dad calls them. We both have curves. Not fat, but not skinny and no cellulite yet.

When Kevin and Julie graduated last winter and he moved back, they fell in love. They had tried to hide their feelings from me because they didn’t know how I’d react, but I knew. I’d just ended a three-year relationship, and being the awesome friends that they are, they didn’t want to upset me. I had known these two all my life. I love them both and told them I couldn’t be happier for them. That night, we celebrated and ended up with massive hangovers the next day.

“Earth to Dora. Come in, Dora!” Kevin’s voice jolts me from my musings. “Not thinking about last night, are you?” he jokes, his dimples dancing in his cheeks.

“Yeah, I was,” I say, watching him stand taller and push out his well-defined chest. “I was thinking it hasn’t grown much since I saw it last.”

I giggle and quickly exit as he throws an oven mitt at me.

Later that night, while finishing up my homework, I remember the slip of paper from the grocery store and pull it out of my purse. Grabbing my cell phone, I quickly dial the number. A female voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Uh, I saw your ad on the board at the supermarket, and I was wondering if the rental is still available, and if so, could I come by and look at it?”

“Yes, it is, and yes, you can! How about tomorrow, say around one?” her bubbly voice replies.

“Sure. I mean, that would be wonderful.” I grab a piece of paper and write down the address and then thank her. She tells me her name is Emily. We say our goodbyes and disconnect.

I breathe out a sigh of relief. Well, that was easy, and she sounds so nice. I’m not going to tell Kevin and Julie just yet. It might not work out. I know they’ll be upset, but I have to give them some space for my sanity … and theirs. I’ve only been back two days, and soon they’ll realize they need to be alone.

I hear Kevin yelling my name as the front door opens, announcing that Julie’s arrived home. I tuck the address in my backpack, put a smile on my face, and exit the room to greet her.

Smoothing down my hair, I ride up in the spacious freight elevator. When I found the building—or, should I say, giant warehouse—I’d become more excited. I watch those home improvement channels and I’ve seen what people have done with warehouses. There are four floors, and the address I’m looking for is at the top.

The wide steel doors open, and I pull back the old-fashioned gate. I step out and look to my left, where I see two blank doors. The same on my right. In front of me is an ornate double door with the number four hundred above it.

My excitement turns to nervousness when I wonder if this whole floor could be the loft. No, it can’t be. I mean, really, it would be so huge!

I hesitate and shake my head. Just do it, nothing to lose. It’s just a rehearsal for looking at future apartments. I want to see what this place looks like. The rent is probably so out of my league anyway. So buck up, Dora, and march on.

While I’m doing this dialogue in my head, my feet have made the decision for me, and I find myself standing in front of the door. There’s a button to the side and I press it, hearing a muffled chime sound from inside. I paste a smile on my face as I hear the lock being disengaged and the door is flung open.

Oh, my sweet sexy heaven , my brain thinks as my eyes ogle the sight of a tall, beautiful male standing before me wearing nothing more than a skimpy pair of silky boxers and a smile. I take a quick glance at his face before examining his body, which is tanned and totally amazing—with twelve-pack abs. I swear, honest truth. I give it a twelve out of ten for definition. His hands rest on his hips and my eyes are drawn to the area.

“Do you like what you see?” his husky voice asks, bringing my embarrassed face up to meet his laughing eyes.

“Uhhhh, I’m looking for Emily?” How moronic can I sound? I know my face is a “wish a hole would open up in the floor and swallow me” cherry red.

“Emily, you have a visitor,” Mr. Dreamboat’s loud voice echoes in the hall.

“Geez, Drew. What would our grandmother say if she saw you answering the door in your boxers? Move your bubble butt out of my way,” a feminine voice, the one I recognize from the phone call, pipes up from behind the black-haired god.

A tall, black-haired girl emerges as she pushes gorgeous Drew to the side. “Hi. I’m Emily, and you must be Pandora. Come in. I swear, this boy never learned manners.”

Besides the hair color and the height, they don’t look like siblings. Maybe I heard her wrong. She’s very plain until she smiles and then her whole face lights up. I instantly like her and wish I could afford to live here just to have her for a friend.

The whole time I’ve been thinking this, she’s been chatting to me and I notice Drop-dead Gorgeous has ignored her suggestion and made himself comfortable on a deep brown sectional in the middle of the room. And what a room it is. It’s like my apartment living room times ten. My favorite fall colors of rich browns, oranges, and reds fill the room. It looks like a room right out of one of those popular design magazines.