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“Well, me and my book boyfriends are eternally grateful,” I blurt out while fervently nodding.
Top-knot sticks out his hand while looking at me with a side grin and I grab it.
“Dean,” he says while squeezing my tiny hand with his big one.
“Morgan,” I answer him as his calloused hand is rough in mine, enjoying the warmth of our connection.
There’s a comfortable silence after that. O just stands there, with his hands on his hips, facing the lawn, looking all judge-y.
“Bob’s going to kill you for ruining his lawn,” he concludes.
I take in the carnage that’s in front of us. There’s a big path of mud from the front of the garden to the porch. The fixing I was planning on doing would certainly be impossible. I’m aware I know nothing about lawns, it’s not something I ever wanted to be knowledgeable in, so how the hell did I think I could fix it?
“Maybe I can put some tiles down? Make an artistic path or something?”
O turns around and smiles broadly, showing off those pearly whites.
“It’s a good thing Bob loves you. You might not get murdered. Just like, severely beaten up or something.”
It’s an accurate assessment. I would have to look into ways to make the lawn appear better than it actually was. Maybe contact a gardener?
“Yeah, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there, I guess. Or lawn. We’ll cross that lawn.”
I bite my bottom lip. Suddenly it hits me how annoyingly my clothes are sticking to my body, and I want nothing more than to get them off. I don’t want to stand on my porch with three men, looking like a drowned kitten. I try to figure out how to gracefully extract myself from the situation and just go with blunt.
“So, thanks again for your help, but I’m going to find something dry to change into.”
Three sets of eyes are drawn to my body and blood rushes to my cheeks.
“Guess we’ll have to change too,” Jonah winks at me as he pats his own wet clothes before turning back to the steps of the porch. “Glad to have you home, Mor,” he continues. “Next time you need us, just light the Bat signal.”
I chuckle. Top-knot, Dean, turns around with his arms in the Superman pose. “To the Bat cave,” he says.
O jokingly slaps the back of his head. “That’s the superman pose, Batman can’t fly.”
“Well, this bad man can. So, suck it up.”
The three men walk to O’s house without looking back. I may or may not stare at their asses, covered in wet jeans before I head inside and walk to the shower, but let’s just say it’s a good visual. I’ll worry about how to get the boxes inside from the porch tomorrow. My mind wanders to anything and everything.
Damsel in distress, properly saved from killer rain by knights in see-through armour. Yeah, there’s a story in there somewhere.
After a warm shower, I find myself without dry clothes. They’re all in the soaked boxes which I can’t use, so I grab one of my mother’s pajamas. They’re huge, very unflattering, and the color doesn’t match my skin tone, but they’re all I have to not go in the buff at the moment. I grab one of the blankets my mother has crocheted and pull it around me. Despite it being quite late in the afternoon, I’ve made myself a huge cup of coffee, because I deserve it. Then again, I always deserve it. Armed with the blanket and the coffee, I nestle myself in a corner of the couch and grab my phone to video call my parents.
Mom picks up, and her big blue eyes and rosy cheeks fill the screen with a dark sky as a background.
“Morgan, baby!” she answers the call, and her enthusiasm brings a smile to my face.
“Hi mom.”
Mom is being pushed aside and half of dad’s face fills the screen.
“Hey baby, did you make it home alright?” he asks with gentle eyes that I’ve always believed to hold all the knowledge in the world.
“Yeah, I’m all settled in.”
“Did everything go smoothly?” mom asks as she keeps the phone a little too close to her face, cutting off the bottom half of both their faces.
“Aside from the bastard sky raining on my parade, everything went fine. Oliver, Jonah, and a friend helped me get my boxes inside.”
