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I waited. The sound of the flush came as I knew it would, and I also wasn’t surprised when I saw Jay stroll into the kitchen in his underwear.
He yawned, reaching between his legs, and scratched at his groin.
I cleared my throat, clapping my hand to my eyes.
He froze. “Shit.”
“Please put some pants on. I need to talk to you.”
“Sorry. Hold on.”
I kept my hand where it was over my eyes until I knew for a fact he was back and wearing pants. There was only so many times I could see him in his underwear, thanks to my stupid little crush on him.
So he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt, but I needed him to wear pants. I could deal with some inner drooling over my best friend’s abs if I really had to.
Also, the view was nice. I’d pay for it the way people paid to visit a strip club.
Pancakes and abs were the things dreams were made of.
Unless the abs belonged to your best friend and roommate. Then, they were off limits.
Sadly.
“What’s up?”
“Are you wearing pants?” I asked, relieving the pressure over my eyes just a little.
“I’m wearing what you call pants, yes.”
Against my better judgment, I looked.
He was wearing sweatpants.
“You’re a dick,” I said, pursing my lips. “Sweatpants are real pants. It’s literally in the name.”
“All right, but I’m still not convinced about leggings.” He leaned over the bowl full of batter mix. “Are you making pancakes? What bad news do you have?”
“Okay, first,” I replied, swiveling on the stool. “Leggings are pants, and if you can’t agree with that, you’re gonna need to move out.”
“Fighting talk.” He dipped his finger into the batter and licked it off.
I reached over and smacked him away from it. “Second, I don’t have any bad news. Well, I hope it’s not. I had an epiphany.”
“Well, fuck. We’re all in trouble.” He grinned, his green eyes glinting with laughter. “What’s up?”
I pushed the paper toward him. “I wrote a roommate agreement.”
“A roommate agreement?” Jay quirked an eyebrow. “Do I need to start rationing you on The Big Bang Theory?”
I knew he’d bring that up.
“There is nothing wrong with my enjoyment of The Big Bang Theory.”
“You say enjoyment; I say unhealthy obsession…” He trailed off and shrugged.
“Says the guy who watches sports all year round and acts like the players can hear him yelling,” I replied shortly. “No, this agreement is for real. It’s not some joke, Jay. You’ve been here three months, so unless you’re actively going to move out, we need to make sure the living situation is acceptable for us both.”
He dipped his finger back into the batter and jumped back before I could hit him again. “You mean I’m going on the rental agreement.”
“That’s one thing, yes, but otherwise…” I shrugged. “It’s how we’re going to co-exist. We’re different people. I like it to be quiet and calm and not have a club of bulking gym-rats yelling at the TV.”
His lips twitched.
“You like life a little louder and more action-packed. I like everything to be clean and tidy, and you have no problem living in something a little messier. If you’re going to move in permanently, we need something in place that keeps us both in line.”
He walked around the island, taking the agreement with him, and leaned over. “All right, I’ll bite, Shelbs. What kind of things am I going to find in here?”
I sat up straight. “Compromise. I won’t complain about your friends invading the living room every Sunday as long as it is only confined to one day a week, with prior notice, and you make sure to replace whatever food or drink they clear out.”
“You’ll complain.”
“I won’t. I’ll leave the apartment and work in Java Hut, or I’ll go to Brie’s or my mom’s or something.” I met his eyes. “I swear. That’s part of the compromise, Jay.”
He scanned the front page. “What else?”
“Little things. Like you picking up your socks.”
“Fine, but you’re going to have to make sure the drain in the shower is free of your hair.”
I held up my hands. “Deal. There’s actually a section in that for you to write down what you want me to do, and we’ll compromise from there.”
He made a low humming noise, one that sent a little shiver down my spine. “You’re not allocating bathroom times like that lunatic on the show does, are you?”
“Sheldon Cooper is not a lunatic. He’s a genius.” I paused. “And no. I reserve the right to take a shit anytime I want.”
He dragged his finger down the front page. “Ah, yeah, here it is. ‘Jay will use the air freshener to make sure the bathroom doesn’t smell like man after every visit.’”
It was my turn to grin because he’d made that whole line up. “You do stink.”
“You don’t exactly smell like roses after your morning trip to the bathroom. Neither does the damn room itself.”
