He Shoots, She scores

Chapter Three: Gracie | Opposite of Mr. Brightside

"Soo" I start, clasping my hands behind my back. "I'm guessing you're Weston."

Weston lifts two of my heaviest duffel bags with the lightness of a feather. He walks past me, shooting a curious look over his shoulder. Weston throws them on the couch like some underpaid FedEx worker. I'm pretty sure those bags contain some valued items, but I can tell he already dislikes me, and he's saving me the burden of back labor, so I keep my mouth shut.

I hate awkward silences, which means I tend to ramble just to avoid it. "In RJ's emails, he warned me of a brooding roommate who holds weekly meetings about keeping the house clean. He also said you could be kind of...what's the word? Insensitive?" What RJ didn't mention: how hot Weston was. Seriously. His light brown hair curls into a middle part, and he has these nicely sculpted arms to go along with it. Add a chiseled jawline and emerald, green eyes to the mix, and he's a class A hottie. The only catch? He also seems to be a class A jerk.

Weston grabs five boxes at a time and heaves them up on one knee. He's so tall that I can still make out his neck and face above the boxes. "He's not wrong."

I shove my hands into the pockets of my overalls. "So, where's Elijah?" RJ told me that Elijah was the opposite of Weston. Kind, carefree, chill, a true jokester at heart, Eli was the one that I was the most excited to meet. Just by RJ's description of him alone, I had a sense we'd quickly be friends. And judging from my experience with Weston so far, we'd just be strangers living under the same roof. He puts the boxes down with more care than before, muttering "How much stuff do you have? Jesus."

"Oh, the top two boxes are my shoes. The last three hold makeup and clothes."

Weston's lips purse, like he's fighting the urge to insult me. "Eli's in his room. I don't suggest waking him, since he has an 8am class."

"Too late" a deep voice says from behind me. In walks a very fine specimen if I do say so myself. Elijah is the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He does a sleepy shuffle into the kitchen, pouring himself a mug of black coffee. "Chuck the boxes a little louder, would you?" Eli does a sip and then notices me, doing a quick nod, as if I come around here all the time. "Sup?"

"I'm Gracie." I hold my hand out. Eli raises a brow but shakes it, nice and firm.

"Elijah. You can call me Eli."

"Hi, Eli." I hop onto the kitchen island and dangle my legs. "Looks like we're roomies now."

He nearly chokes on his coffee. I see him give Weston the cartoon panicked eyes. "Roomies? I'm sorry, who are you?"

I wince. It seems there's a lack of communication between the three boys. I wish RJ had given them a proper heads up because now I feel like an outsider intruding on them. "Listen, I know this is all very sudden and new. But I promise, the four of us are gonna have so much fun living here together!" My enthusiasm is met with pure silence. The two seem to be speaking silently with their eyes. "So. Um. Eli! Friday nights going out or staying in and watching a movie?" This question comes out of nowhere, but again, I'd rather die than sit in brewing awkward silence.

I can tell Eli is taken aback by the question. But still, he leans against the counter, pondering my question with intense seriousness. "Movie."

"Vanilla or chocolate?"

"Chocolate. Duh."

"Favorite rom-com?"

"13 Going on 30." This is a green flag for me, if guys can admit that they actually watch rom-coms. I smile.

"Thoughts on bunnies?"