Yeah she is…

What.

Yeah SHE IS WHAT?

He’s talking about me now, I JUST KNOW IT. What are they SAYING?

Did his mom just ask if I’m cute?

Or pretty?

Or funny? What could she have asked him?!

“It’s not like that, Mum. Relax.” He pulls the phone away from his ear and glances at the screen. “It’s been fifteen minutes—don’t you have to go? You’ll be late.” Pause. “I love you too, Mum. Say hello to Dad and Jack.” He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling dramatically. “Yes, and Caroline too.” He covers the microphone with his hand and whispers, “But not really Caroline—she’s a tit.”

A tit?

What the hell kind of insult is that?

If I had been taking a sip of something—my water—this would have been the moment I spit it all out, spewing it onto the floor.

Ashley is funny, funnier than I’d thought he was.

He and his mom chat a few moments longer, a smile on his face the entire time, the dimple in his chin winking at me—mocking me, really—as only a dimple can.

How did I not notice he has one? The beard wasn’t that bushy.

When he disconnects the call and sets the phone back down, he chuckles. “Mum is doing a fitness bootcamp.”

I’d gathered that from my eavesdropping. “What time is it back home?”

“’Bout five? She’s up early. Normally she dozes until late morning.”

“Ooh la la.”

Ashley nods. “She’s quite the princess, but she’s got that empty nest.”

Sounds like she’s had an empty nest most of his life considering he was shipped off to boarding school, but I keep my mouth shut about it and the words to myself.

Besides, he seems well adjusted enough, and it seems like he and his mother have a great relationship. I don’t think this is the first time they’ve spoken in the past twelve hours or so that I’ve been moved in.

“How often do y’all talk?”

He considers this. “A few times a week. I think she’s lonely.” Ashley leans over and riffles a few carrots from the bag, popping one in his mouth. “My brother Jack lives in London and doesn’t go home often, and Dad works a load. It’s nice that she’s joined a gym and not just a charity club where they fundraise and it’s a group of one-uppers who only want to show off who has the most Botox.”

His chewing isn’t nearly as loud as my chewing, or maybe I’m just too self-conscious about it. Either way, there is no chance I’m jamming any more carrots in my mouth.

Not risking it.

Ask me a week from now and perhaps I’ll change my mind, but I didn’t sign up for this version of Ashley Dryden-Jones. I signed up for the hairy, sloppy version.

“Mum is lovely,” he adds, and my heart softens.

Mum is lovely.

Not sure what it is about that sentence, but if I were ice cream, I’d begin melting down the sides of the cone and into a puddle.

“How old is your brother? Do you only have the one?”

He nods. “Jack is younger and he’s already working for Dad during the summers whilst I stay here playin’ rugby. Not sure if he resents me just yet…I’ll know when I go back.” He chews on another carrot. “Are you close with your family?”

“Yes, I’m an only child so we’re close, but my parents aren’t the type to just swing by. Even when I was in the same state, they still rarely came and visited. They spend lots of time together.”

“Did you tell them you moved out of the dorm?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell them you’re living with a bloke?”

“Yes.”

He waits patiently for more information, and when none is forthcoming, he prompts me. “And?”

He’s worse than a girl!

“And…they’re fine with it. They had nothing to say about it.”

“Nothing to say about it.”

There he goes, making questions into statements. “Nothing.”

“Why?” Suddenly, Ashley rises from the couch, pushing himself up to grandstand, twirling in a circle. “I’m one hundred eighty-seven centimeters—a strapping lad. They’re not worried?”

“Worried about what?” I feign ignorance.

I know exactly what he’s talking about; he wants me to tell him how big and scary he is and how terrified my parents may be that I’m living with a giant lummox of a male.

“This!” He gestures up and down his body with his hands as if presenting himself as a top prize.

“What about it?” I take a carrot and stick it in my mouth, mostly so I don’t bust out laughing. He’s trying so hard to be a badass.

He flops back down. “What kind of parents aren’t worried you’re living alone with a man?”

A man.

I laugh, chewing.

He scowls.

“They trust me, and therefore, they trust you.” Pausing, I think back to the conversation he just had with his mom. “What did your mom say when you told her your new roommate is a girl?”

That trips him up. “Nothing.”

Liar! She definitely had something to say about it because if I remember correctly, he told her we met at a party and had a class together, then he said he wasn’t dating anyone—then he looked over at me and said, “Yeah, she is.”

She is WHAT?

“Mum had nothing to say about it either.”

“Nothing at all?” I roll my eyes. “Then what had she asked when you replied, Yeah, she is?”

Ashley snickers. “You little eavesdropper.”

He’s right.

I’ll never let it go.

I shrug, having no comeback. “If you wanted privacy, you should have left the room.” I pronounce it prih-vuh-see. “What did she ask?”

He looks at the television, giving that his attention, trying to ignore me.

“Come on, tell me!” I throw a pillow because I’m a girl but also acting like a child, throwing a mini tantrum to get what I want.

“What’s stopping me from lying and just making something up?”

“You’re too honest for that.”

“Fuck. You’re right.”

I raise my brows. “So?”

“Why do you care? The conversation was ten minutes ago.”

Because she asked him something about me and he said, “Yeah, she is,” and I want to know what it was.

Is she single? Yeah, she is.

Is she smart? Yeah, she is.

Is she a hard worker? Yeah, she is.

So many possibilities—I want to know which one!

“She asked if you were attractive and I said yes.”

Except that one.

That I did not see coming.

“Oh.”

Attractive.

Is that British speak for cute? Or pretty?

Or hot?

Ashley hmphs, unresponsive, crossing his arms and staring back at the TV, carrot sticking out of his mouth like a cigar.

The point is, he thinks I’m attractive.

And he admitted it to my face.

Calm down, Georgia. He was making conversation with his mother; she asked him a simple question and he answered, and it’s not as if you’re a troll.