I shouldn’t have expected anything. But the way Mike talked this morning, it seemed like he wanted to do something.
Finish where we left off.
My brain reminds me that I have zero interest in going beyond what we did last night. The thought of touching another dick after everything with Jason makes me physically sick.
Even my own, sometimes.
It’s not like I have anything to offer Mike.
I’m starting to think I should probably go to bed and forget about it because I’m probably the worst candidate for a hook-up to ever exist, when there’s a knock on my bedroom door.
What Ishould dois ignore it and pretend I’m asleep.
That’s not what I do.
“Hey, roomie,” he says, a big smile already spreading across that stupidly handsome face.
“Hey,” I respond with much less enthusiasm, letting him in anyway.
He strolls in like he owns the place, which he does, but he looks around the room now, categorizing all of my stuff scattered around. “You did your homework,” he observes, nodding at the stack of textbooks on my desk.
“Yep. Finished for the week.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you were a nerd.”
“You’re doing a master’s degree, how am I the nerd?”
“In music. That’s cool.”
He looks up at me, easy and unbothered, and something about having him in my bedroom is making it impossible to remember all of the reasons I shouldn’t want him.
“I got called in for a shift. That’s why I wasn’t home. But I’m back now,” he informs me, like he knows it was bothering me. I don’t let him see that it does.
“I figured you weren’t coming back.”
“My shifts don’t last all night.”
I cross my arms. He hardly ever comes home until morning when he has to work. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Amusement fills his eyes, making them crinkle at the sides. “Are you keeping tabs on me now?”
“No.”
“Seems like you are.”
“I’m not—” Why is he in here again? “I thought— you never come home after.”
“True,” he agrees, tilting his head. “Does that make you jealous?”
I hadn’t thought about it like that. I don’t know shit about bar hours. I figured he was staying to clean up. But I guess it makes sense, he’s going home with people.
It does make me jealous if I linger on it too long, so I don’t. That’s not what this is.
“I’m not jealous, Mike.”
He’s smiling even wider now, and I get the feeling that he’s making fun of me. “So why do you care when I come home?”
I don’t have an answer for that, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s crossing the room until he’s right in front of me, pinning me in place with a stare that has to mean something, and I couldn’t talk if I wanted to. “You wanna know why I came home tonight?”
