That flare of jealousy was back, but I put it out. “Since my freshman year of college.”

“What’s her story?”

The jealousy flamed up again. Was he interested? Or just making conversation? It didn’t matter, I reminded myself, and answered his question: “She’s a teacher, like me. She teaches math to the secondary students. Really smart. She’s a great person. She’s also, um, single. If you were interested.”

His food was halfway to his mouth and he froze for a second, as if I’d caught him off guard. It took him a moment to recover. “She seems nice, but she’s not really my type.”

What is your type? The words were on the very tip of my tongue and it was only with the greatest self-control imaginable that I managed to keep them inside me. As if I’d ask the question and then he’d turn slowly toward me and say, Why, you, of course. And then we’d kiss as the screen faded to black.

Nope. This was real life. Something I needed to remember.

I also needed to remember to keep my nose out of his private life. We were going to be roommates, not best friends.

“Message received.”

Again, he seemed anxious about having possibly offended me. “I don’t mean any disrespect to your friend. My life’s not really set up for a relationship. I have a lot of obligations.”

“Like what?” The words were out before I could stop them. Maybe I was the one being offensive, getting too personal. Even though I’d just told myself to stay out of it.

“That’s a very long story. Maybe I’ll share it with you another day.”

Yep, too far. Because that was a way to close down a line of questioning you didn’t want to answer.

It made me wonder about Shay’s instinct that he was seeing someone. It sounded as if he wasn’t, but I was not going to ask him anything further about it.

This conversation felt over and I was back to feeling stupid again.

“Well, I need to get some more unpacking done and then get ready to head over to my parents’. Thanks for dinner.” I carried my plate over to the sink and made sure to rinse it off. I had learned how important that was living at Shay’s. But she refused to let me help clean the kitchen because, as she said, I did everything wrong. That didn’t bode well for my situation with Tyler, but I would figure it out.

“Before you go, would it be okay if I talked to you about Pigeon’s schedule?”

“Sure.”

He came over and rinsed his plate off as well. He leaned in close, his warmth beckoning me, and I closed my eyes, inhaling his scent before I forced myself to take a step back. He left his plate in the sink, which made me feel marginally better that I had done the same. Shay was one of those as-soon-as-it’s-used-put-it-in-the-dishwasher kind of people. I’d done my best to remember but still routinely aggravated her.

Tyler then showed me Pigeon’s dog food that he kept in the pantry, and where her food and water bowls were, and told me how often I should feed her while he was gone. He had a dog walker, a college student, who came and grabbed Pigeon in the morning and in the late afternoon, so I wouldn’t have to walk her unless she needed to go outside to relieve herself.

It was then that I realized I had no idea how to walk a dog. Another thing for me to ask Google.

“Have you always had a dog?” I asked. I so wanted to know everything about him.

“No, Pigeon’s my first pet.”

“And you didn’t consider getting any other kind? Like a cat?”

“A cat?” he scoffed. “Never. I’m not bringing home some sociopath intent on luring you into a false sense of security before they eat your face.”

That made me laugh. “Some cats are nice and affectionate.” Not that I had any firsthand knowledge, but it had to be true.

“Decoys. They’ve never forgotten that they used to be worshipped as gods. You’ll never see dogs planning on destroying humankind. Which is one of the reasons I adopted Pigeon.”

“She won’t eat your face?”

He smiled. “I’m pretty sure she’s not plotting my demise. And it’s nice to love somebody who doesn’t want anything in return.”

Whoa, that sounded deep and like an area that was obviously none of my business but I still wanted to ask too many questions about.

Before I could figure out what to say in response, he said, “While we’re on the topic of animals and their devious plans, something you should definitely know about Pidge is that she loves shoes. And by love, I mean she chews them into tiny pieces until they no longer resemble shoes. So you always want to keep your closet door shut.”

“Got it. She won’t come for my face, but she will for my shoes.” Pigeon and I were going to have issues if she chewed up my shoes. I’d been forced to sell off most of my bags and footwear. The shoes I had now were very inexpensive and I wasn’t emotionally attached to them, but I didn’t have enough money to buy more cheap shoes.

He led me into the living room, where there was a giant dog bed. “Pidge is kind of funny when it comes to sleep. Sometimes she wants to sleep with me, and sometimes she prefers to be out here on her bed. I’m assuming when I’m gone that she’ll want to be out here. But she has . . .” He reached down and picked up a couple of toys shaped like pigeons. “These. The chew toy she’s had since the shelter. It’s why I named her Pigeon. She wouldn’t leave without it. And then I bought her a stuffed pigeon to sleep with and she needs it to go to bed at night. And she also needs her favorite blanket pulled up over her.”

I couldn’t hide my smile at how cute he was about his dog.

“I know, I know,” he said with a grin. “I spoil her.”

“Maybe a little. And I thought I’d been spoiled growing up.”

“When I love something, I don’t do it halfway.”

That made my heart twist painfully. No man had ever loved me the way he loved this dog.

I cleared my throat, surprised at how thick it suddenly felt. “I think I’ve got it. So don’t worry about anything. It’s all under control.” I moved away from him but he put a hand out to stop me, lightly grasping my forearm.

I felt the zing of his touch everywhere.

“Wait a second. We should exchange phone numbers. Just in case you need to get in touch with me.”

“Right. Good idea.” I handed him my phone, hoping he didn’t notice how my hands shook. I also tried to quiet my inner fourteen-year-old self, who was giddily jumping up and down at the idea that I had his phone number. Which was so stupid because I was already living in his apartment.

He used my phone to call his, and when his phone rang he handed mine back to me. When I added him as a contact, I was going to have to refrain from nicknaming him Hot Tyler. Just in case.

“There. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Yep!” Then because I was still feeling awkward, I decided to go ahead and make things weirder. “So I have to go get ready for that dinner with my family. I would invite you, but you seem like a very nice person and it would be very mean of me to introduce you to them. Personally I’d like to not go, either, but I don’t really have a choice.”

Shut up, I told myself. Stop talking and just . . . shut up.