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DASH
How long does it take a girl to pee?
Maybe Paige was so embarrassed when she saw my house, she decided to climb out the window rather than face me. I bet her parents’ basement is nicer than this place.
I don’t exactly live in poverty. More like poverty adjacent.
Cole and I share half of this ancient shotgun-style house. The owner, a crotchety old man, lives in the other half. He only puts up with us because we’re quiet and gets the rent in on time.
Not that there’s a lot of competition for this place. We’re in a crappy area of town, where a shiny green Chevy Impala really shouldn’t be left unattended. The house itself is well past its prime if it ever had one. The kitchen appliances are older than I am, and they come in unappetizing pea green. Scorch marks mar the tattered wallpaper above the oven, and the vinyl flooring, which probably started as white, has long ago stained itself yellow.
We keep the space clean, but there’s only so much lipstick you can put on a pig.
Dreading that Paige has gone for the window, I leave the kitchen and cringe when I realize the state of my bedroom. Never expecting to bring her back here, I didn’t bother to clean up the clothes I discarded after work, or the ones I decided not to wear tonight. The random shirts and pants strewn about are some of the few decorations in my bare room. Here, at least, there’s wooden flooring, better than the shit in the kitchen. But I’ve done nothing to cover the dingy white walls. My furnishings consist of a mattress on a simple bed frame, a dresser, and a chair in the corner.
Not much different than my cell.
Hell, she probably thinks I lied about stealing cars and that I’m some kind of psycho murderer.
I push the door leading to the hall open far enough to realize the bathroom light is off and the little room is vacant.
That’s when I hear the voices.
“So, if they’re at war with the succubi, how do his warriors feel about the mating?”
Shit. Cole is going to be pissed. He hates being bothered while he’s writing.
I jog the few steps it takes to get to his room, only to stumble in shock when I hear his response.
“They don’t know. Not at first. She’s a hostage.” Cole’s voice comes out dry, but after living with him for over a year, I can tell he’s not mad.
“Oooo. I love it!”
When I walk into the room, the scene throws me for a loop. Paige sits on the floor beside Cole’s bed like an eager child at storytime, and my roommate is giving her what could almost be categorized as a smile. At least when it comes to Cole.
“Hey.” It’s all I can think of to say when really, I want to walk over, scoop Paige up in my arms, and carry her to my room.
Paige jumps up and turns to face me with a guilty expression.
“Sorry! I made a wrong turn and found Cole. But don’t worry. I made it clear we are definitely not fucking.”
My roommate grins like a demented demon behind her back. “Yeah, Dash. Paige set me straight. No past, present, or future fucking.”
I keep my face expressionless as I walk over to place a hand on Paige’s lower back, guiding her away from the jackass and making sure she doesn’t see the scathing glare I throw him over my shoulder.
We’re almost clear of him when Paige halts abruptly. She turns back, and I barely stop myself from stepping in between the two.
If I can’t have her, why should he?
“Cole, before I go and never see you again, I wanted to tell you…” She hesitates, and I think Paige is trying to figure out how to speak without her trademark awkwardness. I want to tell her it’s okay. Neither Cole nor I have any room to judge.
“Yeah, babe?”
Oh fuck no.
I do my best to burn an angry hole in my roommate’s forehead for using a pet name with my girl.
He smirks, and I realize he can do whatever the hell he wants. Because she’s not my girl.
