Page 82 of Frat House Fling

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Page 82 of Frat House Fling

“Exactly. Even people who had very little money could fall into that trap. If you had ten dollars, you could buy one meal. But if you went to a dollar shop, you could buy ten things and feel like a king. Some of my mother’s neighbors’ houses are like that, and some even approach hoarding territory.”

“So you did the opposite,” I realized. “And kept your place bare.”

He grinned. ”I prefer to think of it as minimalism. Theo, however, is chomping at the bit for a chance to give my room a makeover.”

I laughed at that. “Thank you, Ian. For all of this today. For sharing your story. For making me feel better about myself.”

“I’m very glad I could do that. And now there aren’t any more secrets between us.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I told him. “There's still one thing I absolutely have to know.”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell is up with the 80s music?”

He laughed so hard that the car swerved. “Would you believe that I just like it?”

“No.” Very few people in our generation did.

“Well, too bad, because it’s true. But there is a story behind it. When I was a kid, my mom had an old car that was constantly breaking down. Half the electrical system didn’t work, so the radio got stuck on one channel and wouldn’t budge.”

“80s music,” I groaned.

“Exactly. But honestly, I do like it. It’s kind of me and my mom’s thing.”

I glanced down at the more complex music system he had in this car. “And if I turned that on right now, would I hear 80s music?”

“No.” His voice was convincing, but when I reached out to turn it on, he smacked my hand away, and I laughed. “So is that all you want to know?”

I thought it over. “Yes.”

He grinned, studying the road ahead of us.

Suddenly, I was suspicious. “Is there more I should know about?”

“Maybe.” He was clearly enjoying himself. “There was one other thing I thought you’d ask about.”

“Can I get a hint?” His teasing was turning me on.

“Sure.” He slanted me a sideways look, and then asked me a question. “Are you keeping warm enough at night?”

That was the kind of thing Night Owl sometimes asked when I was lying in bed, so at first, I thought this was Ian’s way of admitting it was him.

But then I gasped. “You bought the bedding for me?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my god, thank you! Those are the nicest sheets I’ve ever had. And that blanket. The concept of a weighted blanket always seemed weird to me, but I love mine. You’d have to pry it out of my cold, dead hand to get it from me.”

He grinned. “Noted.”

I reached out, stroking his arm. “Seriously, Ian, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I remember the days when I couldn’t afford the things I needed. So I thought I’d lend you an anonymous hand.”

The word anonymous made me think of Night Owl yet again, but so far, Ian hadn’t confessed to anything like that. “Okay, so we’re good now? Nothing else I should know about?”

“Nothing else,” he said, but there was a glint in his eyes.




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