No, We Are the Best 

I hadn’t known exactly what to expect from Bradley’s apartment. Aside from meeting his friends and viewing his day-to-day life, being able to see his living quarters would tell me a lot about him. Despite my almost fanatical opinion of him, the long-distance aspect of our relationship meant we really didn’t know a lot about each other yet. At least, not beyond what Skype could give us.

So the apartment I walked into was nothing like what I’d planned on.

He and Chris lived in a small place—more like a closet—just off campus. Except for two doors leading into separate bedrooms and a third for their bathroom, the rest of the apartment was just one big floor plan with a super-sized TV on one wall and a half kitchen with a three-legged table.

“So … uh … If I had known you were coming I would have cleaned up a bit,” he said, frantically grabbing at discarded wrappers as he walked past. He tossed the Redbox movie we’d rented on the couch and kicked aside a pair of sneakers. “Chris is kind of a slob, like I said.”

A stack of old pizza boxes sat on the floor near four crushed soda cans and a complicated remote control. Underneath the disaster of belongings and Twix wrappers hovered the slight stench of dirty socks. An air freshener plugged in nearby covered the room with a faintly floral scent.

“It’s … charming,” I said, venturing in one step at a time.

Bradley swept an armful of old paper plates into a garbage bag before slinging his football bags into a room in the back. I set the brown bag of Chinese takeout on the counter in between an empty box of cake batter and a couple of red Solo cups.

“Sorry,” he said, kicking aside a pile of dirty clothes. “I hardly spend any time here. I’ve tried to get Chris to clean up, but both of us are so busy during the season that we just kind of crash here.”

Except for our late-night video chats, I had noticed that a good deal of Bradley’s time was spent either at practice or at the library. I didn’t wonder why anymore.

“No problem.”

I eyed the half-moon table with a hearty amount of skepticism. None of the three chairs clustered around it matched. The missing leg of the table had been replaced with old science fiction novels.

“How about we eat on the couch?” I suggested.

Of the whole apartment, the only clean area that seemed partially safe was the couch. Not even a single breadcrumb littered the smooth surface. I reached out to rub the tips of my fingers on it.

“Leather?” I asked. Bradley rolled his eyes.

“Yeah. It’s the only thing that Chris really takes care of around here. He bought it with some money he got when his grandfather died. As you can tell, he’s obsessed with movies. He takes the entire experience very seriously, so a clean couch is necessary.”

Aside from the massive TV dominating one wall, five CD cases lay open on top of an overturned cardboard box, which I assumed served as a coffee table of sorts. The slots in the cases were chock full of DVDs. They spilled open so wide the zippers wouldn’t even close.

“I see.”

“We can eat on the couch,” he said, tossing a few more empty pop bottles in a garbage bag. “Let me just … uh … find something to eat on.”

I picked up a few bits of garbage, stuffing them inside the white bag he’d been patrolling the apartment with, while Bradley scrounged through the kitchen. I didn’t dare ask if they had plates. Two of the open cupboards lay bare except for a package of ramen noodles and salt. My quest took me closer to Bradley’s room. He’d left the light on, illuminating a room far different than the rest of the apartment. The sounds of him shuffling around behind me continued, so I pressed the door open with the tips of my fingers and stepped inside.

While not perfect, his quarters were a vast improvement. No trash littered the floor. His covers had been thrown to the top of the bed in what must have been a fast attempt to make it before he left. Most of his clothes hung in the closet, and four pairs of shoes clogged the closet floor. On top of his desk sat a large, framed picture. I picked it up.

Bradley had his arms around two girls that looked slightly younger than him. Their brown hair and crinkled eyes indicated they were definitely his sisters. Behind them stood an older man with a severe expression, compressed lips, and salt-and-pepper hair. A middle-aged woman with a smile and a face that could have been Bradley’s twin stood next to him. Bradley’s parents, no doubt.

“That was taken before I came to college,” he said from just behind me. I jumped, but he grabbed the photo before I dropped it. “My two younger sisters almost look like twins, don’t they?”

“You have a beautiful family. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be snooping, or anything.”

He waved it off and flopped onto his bed, stacking his hands behind his head.

“Have a look around. I have nothing to hide.”

The lines around his eyes gave him a tired appearance, no doubt exhausted from the game. But since I was finally in his bedroom, and he extended the invitation, I continued looking around. Most of the walls were bare except for a few pictures, placed in random array by someone who clearly didn’t have any sense of organization in mind. Behind his door hung a peg filled with jackets. The fishy smell of the kitchen didn’t seep in here, and the same floral scent that covered the rest of the apartment dominated here.

I sat on the edge of the bed next to him. He shrugged and put a hand on my knee.

“Do you like living here?”

“Chris is fine, but I’m normally out at practice, a game, class, or whatever else.”

“Speaking of your game, let’s go eat. You look exhausted.”

He saluted. “Yes ma’am.”

“Mind if I use the bathroom first?” I asked as he stood up and headed for the hallway.

“No! Wait!” He grabbed my shoulder to stop me. “Let me check it first.”

I nodded. “Ah, yes. Good plan.”

While the sounds of him scrubbing a toilet and throwing more clothes into Chris’s room came from the bathroom, I set out the food on the cardboard box and pulled it near the couch. We’d rented a comedy from Redbox, but the sheer amount of technology along the back wall frightened me, so I left it for him to deal with. He came out of the bathroom a little while later.

“All good.”

When I came back out, the previews for the movie played across the big screen, and Bradley waited on the couch, his forearms leaning on his upper thighs. He waved two forks in one hand.

“No plates,” he said. “We must have run out.”

“You don’t own any plates?”

He shook his head. “Chris doesn’t really cook. Or do dishes. So we make it a lot easier for ourselves. You good with just this?” He motioned to the takeout containers.

“Yeah,” I said, grabbing the fork. “Thanks.”

He fluffed up his fried rice, slipping me a glance out of the corner of his eyes. “You sure? Because it turns out I’m not really that good at planning dates.”

“This was a surprise,” I said, opening the sweet and sour chicken container. “Nothing for you to plan.”

“Seems like most of our dates dwindle into something that’s not very romantic,” he said, snatching a piece of chicken from my box with a quick smile. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at that kind of thing. Sorry.”

I shrugged. “Me either. I think takeout and a comedy is perfect.”

He leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Thanks, Lexie. You’re the best. Seriously.”

A flash of warmth covered my heart in a warm blanket. I smiled at him.

“No. We are the best.”