For the first few nights of Emerson residing at my house, I stayed at the office. I did not want to over step at all or make him feel uncomfortable during his stay. On Monday morning, I heard Emerson come into his office. I hadn't actually seen him since Friday afternoon for lunch. Friday night he left to go visit his family and returned late Sunday night. I walked out of my office to greet him. He had a large iced coffee in his hand. He looked tired.
"Good morning," I said.
"Good morning," he replied quietly.
"Are you okay? You seem tired or unwell."
"I'm just tired," he said, then took a sip of his coffee. "I didn't sleep that well."
"Is something wrong with your room? I can get new bedding or-"
"No, it's not that," he said. He glanced up at me and then at the coffee in his hands. "It's just...it's creepy in your house. Like, alone and at night. I'm convinced it's haunted, or that someone is going to break in."
I tried not to laugh. "I promise you, no one can break in. There's an alarm. They would have to jump the gate, too. Now, as for haunted, that's a possibility."
His eyes grew wide. "Oh my god, don't say that," he said. "I swear, I heard footsteps last night coming down the stairs from your room, but you weren't home, right?"
"No, and I promise that if there is a ghost they are nice."
He pouted. "I don't know how I'm going to live alone," he said. "I always get so anxious at night, but I don't like relying on melatonin. When I was a teenager I'd have these anxiety attacks at night and my mom would have to take me on a drive. I always felt better seeing other people living and knowing my mom was awake."
"Well, if it makes you feel better, I can try to stay at the house more. I don't mind, I just haven't because I wanted to give you space," I said.
"It's your house. If anything I'm the one who should give you space," he said.
"It's fine, Em. I'll try to stay the night more. If you need to get more sleep, feel free to take a nap or something on the couch."
"I need to catch up on my work," he said. "But thank you."
I nodded. "Just let me know if you need anything."
The day went on like normal. Meeting, report overviews, meeting, meeting, lunch meeting, meeting. Emerson was staying late, a usual habit at this point. I couldn't focus after five o'clock. What if Richard called? I didn't want him to. He called Friday night, ruined my whole weekend. If he called then I would have been in a bad mood the whole evening, and I couldn't do that with Emerson staying. I couldn't be in a bad mood.
When six rolled around, I knew I was in the clear. I gathered my things and met Emerson in his office. "Are you ready to go? I can drive us," I said.
"Yeah, sure, that's totally fine," he said.
We went down to the garage where my car was parked. If there were no traffic, the drive could take less than ten minutes, but with the evening traffic it took about fifteen minutes. Some days, it could even take over twenty minutes, such as in the winter when everyone forgot how to drive when there was - heaven forbid - a little snow on the ground.
"Do you ever walk to work?" Emerson asked as we entered the kitchen.
"No, it's like a thirty minute walk. That would be a good workout, but a little long for a daily commute," I said.
"I walk about thirty minutes, or I did, when I lived in my apartment," he said. "It was a nice workout. Sometimes if it's too hot or too cold then I'll take the subway, but I like walking in the morning. I think sometimes I might get a little sweaty but I usually freshen up in the locker room. I really like the locker room. Is that what you use, like when you sleep at the office?"
"No. I have a private bathroom," I said. "It's where I sleep, too. I have a pull out couch I use. It's like a little studio apartment."
"That's cool," he said. He sat on a stool and leaned onto the island. "Why do you stay at the office so much anyway?"
I leaned against the counter. "I just...do. I like it," I said.
"Michael said you don't take vacations. Is that true?" He tilted his head, like when you squeeze a squeaky toy and a dog tilts his head in curiosity.
"Why are you asking me so many questions?" I asked.
"I'm just curious. I hope you take vacations, and I hope you also don't stay at the office because you're overworking yourself. Is that what you do?" he asked.
"No, not really. I mean, I will work in the mornings but usually once you leave I just kind of treat the place like it is my actual home. I workout, I eat, I sleep." I shrugged. "Maybe I don't like sleeping in this place alone either." I didn't mean to say the last part out loud.
"Well, this place is probably old, right? Probably haunted by some bootlegger that died in the 1920's or something," he said
"Probably," I said, smirking. "Are you hungry? Do you want dinner? I can order something for us tonight."
"I can eat," he said. "Do you always order out? Do you ever cook?"
"Not much anymore. I can cook. I just don't anymore. It's hard cooking when it's just one person. Leftovers for days, ingredients go bad before you use them, and I am not the biggest fan of instant meals anymore," I said and searched for food on my phone.
"I know what you mean, they don't make things portion-friendly for single people. But, I'm not really a good cook. I usually get meals from Trader Joe's, though. They're actually good, but otherwise I guess I order out too much, too. What did you decide on?"
"How about Indian food?" I asked.
"Sure, I love Indian food." He drummed his fingers. "I can pay you back."
I paused and looked at him. "Em, no offense, but you should take advantage of rich people's generosity more," I said, putting my order in on the app. I slid my phone to him.
"Well, I just don't want you to think I'm, I dunno, mooching," he said, grabbing the phone and scrolling through the menu.
"I'm the one who offered," I said.
He slid the phone back over. "I know, but still. Thank you, though."
I placed the order and put my phone in my pocket. "I'm going to go work out until the food gets here."
I didn't realize how odd it was to have someone else in my house. I was not used to it, in the house or in the office. I mean, during working hours it was rare for someone to come into my office. Emerson had never come in there, and then no one ever came into the flat at the office. I'd have a person over in the middle of the night in the reception area but that was different. No one ever really came to the townhouse anymore either. When I was done working out, I took a shower and then went to the kitchen, planning on finding Emerson there, but it was empty. I heard noise from the second floor so I went up there and found him in the living room with the TV on. The food had arrived and he was pulling it out of a bag.
"I hope you don't mind, but I really love watching TV when eating," he said. "You can take yours to another room, though."
"It's fine," I said. I hadn't watched TV in a long time. I took a seat next to him as he moved my bowl of chicken tikka masala over to me along with my garlic naan bread. "What are you watching?"
"I was going to start The Last of Us," he said. "I haven't seen it but I hear it's good."
I nodded. "Yeah, I heard they were making a show about the game, but I haven't watched it yet either," I said, spreading some of the food into my naan bread.
"Have you played the video game?" he asked.
I nodded, chewing my food. "Yeah," I said after swallowing.
"I didn't know you played video games. I didn't think of you as the type."
I smirked. "I like them. I play them, finish the game, and then take a few months off. I haven't played any type of game in a few months now," I said.
"I like Animal Crossing, but that's about it. Maybe Mario Kart, but I'm not a good driver in real life or in the game," he said. "I don't have a license."
"You don't have a license?" I asked, looking at him.
"No. I mean, I don't need one in the city, and I'm gay anyway. Everyone knows gay people are least likely to have a license. I don't make the rules," he said, looking at his food.
"What about bisexual people?" I asked, smiling slightly.
"Can drive but all they do is speed and hit curbs," he said.
I chuckled. A part of me debated on telling him I was bisexual. Did he know already? I never publicly said what my sexuality was. There was speculation, luckily not much because people didn't talk about me in the media often. I decided not to tell him, thinking it might come off odd to him.
We ate our food while the show played on the TV. He was quite animated watching TV. He kept reacting, whether scared or grossed out or sad. He also asked a lot of questions, some of which I did know the answer to because I had played the game, but I still refused to answer. He was actually not the best person to watch a show with, but I didn't mind. I enjoyed his company. We ended up watching two episodes before he was getting tired and wanted to shower before going to bed. I was a little blown away that he was going to go to bed at around ten at night with the intention of waking up in the morning at a normal time. If I fell asleep at ten then I was awake at one, back to sleep at three, awake at four, and up the rest of the day. He actually seemed to get a decent, healthy amount of sleep.
"Good night, Mr. Jett," Emerson said as I stood by the stairs to the sixth floor.
"You can call me Lafayette if you want. I don't think there is a soul on this planet that calls me 'Mr. Jett' other than you,"
"Oh, well, I guess I can try that then," he said, smiling softly. "Good night, Lafayette."
"Good night, Emerson."