In The Next Room

Chapter 2

In his bedroom, Locke handed me a large t-shirt with the Captain America symbol on it. As I accepted it, I looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow. His face flushed again and he looked away, so I didn’t ask questions. I went back into the bathroom to slip it on instead of the towel, and I was shocked by how soft and large it was on me. It went down to my mid-thigh, and the short sleeves stopped at my elbow. I walked out of the bathroom carrying my dirty clothes, finding Locke sitting on his bed, waiting for me, yet again. 

“Is there some way I can wash these?” I asked, as he put his head down like a dog so he wouldn’t make eye contact. If things were always going to be this way between us, I didn’t see how we could possibly live in the same apartment. 

“Yeah,” he answered, “There’s a wash room down at the end of the hallway.” He finally lifted his face to look at me, and I was once again shocked by how many times this man blushed. His eyes widened as he looked me over from head to toe, and I felt a shiver break across my body, knowing he was examining me. “I’ll go throw them in,” he said, and I shook my head.

“No, that’s fine,” I answered, offering him a small smile. “I can do it myself. I’m not an invalid.” I tried to joke with him so he would lose his serious attitude, but it didn’t go away. 

Locke frowned at me, and I saw his eyes look down at my body again before returning to my face. “No, Rowan,” he said, gently taking the clothes away from me. “There are some sketchy people in this building, and I don’t want them to see you like that,” he flushed, realizing what he had just said. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just—“

Saving him the trouble, I smiled a more genuine smile. “I understand. Go ahead, if you really want.”

And with that, Locke fled from the apartment, as though he were on fire.

***

Locke came back after he put my clothes in the wash, entering the apartment with a sigh. “Alright. They’ll be done in about an hour.”

“Do you want to talk? About what happens next?” I asked, sitting gingerly on the old ratty couch that took up a large portion of space in the apartment. 

“I-if you want to, that’s fine,” he muttered, sitting on the arm rest on the opposite side of the couch from where I was sitting. It was painfully obvious that I made him uncomfortable and he wanted to keep his distance from me. How could we possibly live together? Liz and I weren’t chatter boxes, but we were able to make small talk and we were at least comfortable with each other. Locke was approaching me like a rabid animal who would eat him alive. 

“Well, let’s start with the sleeping arrangements. I’ll sleep here on the couch, and you can keep your bed,” I started, gesturing to the bedroom in which Locke’s bed was. 

“No,” Locke immediately cut in. “I’m taking the couch.”

“But Locke,” I continued, raising an eyebrow. “This is your apartment, and that is your bed. If I were a different gender, we would have no problem sleeping in the same room. It’s my fault, so I will take the couch. It’s fine,” I smiled at him, knowing he was just trying to be nice. 

“I don’t care,” he answered, brushing off my answer and making me frown. “There’s no way I’d let you or any other woman sleep on my goddamn couch. If it makes you more comfortable, I can put my bed into storage and we can move yours in, but you will be sleeping in a bed.”

“What if we trade, every other night?” I asked, trying to make a compromise with him. I was learning that once Locke took an opinion, nothing was going to make him give it up.