“What?”
Calvin pulled the blankets back and got in bed. “OSHA is workplace health and safety. I believe that in the city, you report private residences to NYC311.”
“But my point is, these apartments werewiththe help of a Realtor. You make good money. I make decent money. We’re both established at our jobs.” I’d started to twine my leg with Calvin’s but froze. “You don’t have debilitating credit, do you? I know I’m paying off student loans, but it’s still considered a good score.”
“It’s something like 810.”
“Something like?”
“I haven’t checked it lately, but I know it won’t hinder us.”
I dragged my hand through Calvin’s chest hair. “You’ve got near-perfect credit and we’re still pretending we can share a twin-size bed.”
“Be patient. We’ll find a place.”
“You don’t know that,” I grumbled.
“Statistics and probability,” Calvin continued. “Eventually those will weigh in our favor.” He put his hand on the back of my head. “Did you really want to keep talking about this?”
“You want to go to sleep?”
In the glow of light pollution that filtered in through the window at the foot of the bed, I could see Calvin’s eyebrows slowly creep to his hairline. “No… but I haven’t seen you in a few days. I thought we could fuck first and talk later?”
That was one way to bring my gripefest to a screeching halt.
“Seb?”
“Huh?”
“You okay?”
“Oh. Yeah. It’s just—my dick got hard so fast, the blood stopped pumping to my brain for a second.”
Calvin laughed. He wrapped his big arms around me, rolled me onto my back, and kissed me until I saw nothing but stars.
Dillon stuck his wet nose in my face and snuffled loudly. I grunted and gave the dog a shove. Calvin’s voice was quiet as he called Dillon, who, in turn, smacked my face with his tail, then jumped off the bed.
I groped for Calvin’s pillow, tugged it to my chest, and inhaled whispers of his spicy cologne that lingered on the fabric. “Where’d you go?” I managed to ask without sounding completely drunk on sleep.
“I had to take Dillon out.”
“Hmm.”
“Do you want coffee?” Calvin asked.
“Sure,” I answered, sort of slurring that word a little.
“Then get dressed.”
“No, thanks.”
I could hear Calvin’s smile as he added, “I haven’t gone shopping. We can stop at Starbucks before you go to the Emporium.”
I raised my head and stared at Calvin’s gray, blurry form hovering in the pseudokitchen. “I’m thinking of calling out. Luckily, I’m the boss and I can do that sort of thing.”
“Do you not feel well?” Calvin was walking toward me now.
“I’m fine. But the postcoital hangover is still going strong.”
