Page 13 of Oblivious Roommate

Cass always loved botany. He’s studying it now while working at a special nursery that breeds carnivorous species. Of course he wants to share his hobby with me. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset about the stupid spiders.

When I see him in the kitchen, stirring sauce, a desperate need to make him laugh washes over me, so I grab a newspaper and fold it into a paper hat.

I put it on, clear my throat to prepare it for my best imitation of a Southern accent, and walk up to him from behind. Without even thinking much, I slap his ass, startled by the satisfying sound that produces. His buttocks are really firm.

“Whatcha’ cookin’ there, wifey?”

Cass turns back, blinking, but he knows me too well to stall and hides his grin while grabbing my wrist to move it away from his butt. “Now, now, you know doing such things before church is unholy,” he squeaks but shakes his hips as if he were clad in some kind of old-timey hoop skirt.

I have to hold back a snort. “Come on, baby. You know I’m a Southern gentleman, but a man’s got needssss,” I hiss, trying to grab his ass again. “You can’t expect me to smell your pasta and not get horny.”

Cass slaps my hand and struts a few steps away before glancing my way with those dark green eyes. I want to laugh, but then he pushes a curl of his hair behind his ear, and that makes me remember how soft his mane is.

“Someone could come over. It’s the middle of the day,” Cass’s character protests but keeps tempting her man with a languid gaze shot from under the longest lashes I’ve ever seen on a man.

“To all hells with people!” I exclaim, and Cass’s eyes widen when I manage to pick him up and drop his ass to the counter so that I stand between his legs, grinning inches away from his face. His eyes lock with mine as he catches his breath, and the firmness of that gaze does something weird to my head.

Someone clears their throat behind us and the hairs on my nape bristle.

Cass’s smile drops and he nudges me away before sliding off the counter. “Hi! You’re early—”

“I didn’t know I sounded this amusing to you,” Logan says in a tight voice, and even though I have not turned around yet, I’m already burning with shame.

“Logan,” I mumble, and like the idiot I am, I instinctively tip my newspaper hat. When I realize what I did, I shove it in my back pocket. “I’ll show myself out.”

I’m already burning from the tension hanging in the air, but while leaving Cass to deal with the fallout of our little game makes me feel like shit, I know both he and Logan are waiting for me to get the fuck out.

Logan doesn’t acknowledge my existence as I grab my hoodie and run out of the apartment as if the devil himself is after me.

I hate myself for secretly hoping they break up.

Chapter 6

I die of shame at Rainbowology, but at least Quinta treated me to free whipped cream on my hot chocolate, and a Jack-O-Lantern-shaped wafer to go with it. It tastes so smooth and delicious I almost forget being caught in such a weird position with Cass. I can only hope Logan isn’t jealous of him, because that would be weird, with me being straight and all.

I watch people come and go because Aaron is already fashionably late, but then a cute brunette walks up to my table with a big smile.

“Hey, are you using that sugar?” she asks, pulling me out of my miserable thoughts.

I glance at the bowl filled with white lumps of sweetness. “Oh, go ahead, have as many as you like.”

She winks at me. “Are you saying you’re already sweet enough?”

For a moment I stall, dumbstruck. But then again, while the cafe is an LGBT hub, lots of people come here just to grab a drink or lunch. My autopilot flirting is flashing a red light, though. I’m out of juice even though the girl is pretty and took the effort to come hit on me.

“Sorry, all out of sweetness today.”

Her mouth forms a little O, and she places her hand on my shoulder. “Oh no, what happened? Maybe I can sweeten it for you?”

“No, sorry, just me and this hot chocolate for now, but I’m meeting a friend later.” Am I really rejecting this girl for no reason other than feeling whiny? I guess I am.

She’s attractive, with kissable lips and a nice figure, but I’m in no mood for flirting. All I want is to chat to someone who won’t try to get in my pants using my current circumstances. And Aaron was very eager to assure me I’m not his type.

The girl’s lips shut, but then her eyes dart to the rainbow flag stretched in a frame of rough wood, and she sighs. “It’s always the hottest ones.”

I don’t bother to correct her, because it doesn’t matter what she thinks of me.

Just as she’s walking away, Aaron enters, and his serious expression brightens at the sight of me. Which is nice. At least someone’s happy to see me.