AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You know I use it, too, just like you do the kettle. I don’t mind splitting the cost of a new one, Gabby.”
“I-” slapping motions interrupt her comeback and precede a grunted, “Coño! Why is this shit fucking broken again!? Why can’t anything in this piece of shit apartment stay fixed!? Why do we live in such a shit box?!”
She’ll never admit this, but she needs me.
And I, on the other hand, will happily admit that I love it.
I love being needed.
I love having a place and purpose in people’s lives.
Even if it’s just a small one like being the person to make their evening out to dine a smooth event.
I’m sure it comes from the fear of getting lost in a large family like mine.
Alright, I’m only sure of that because it’s what I was once told by this uni student who was working on her degree to become a child therapist. Ironically, she had no interest in having her own children…ever. That is what led us away from shagging for a few months to only a couple of days.
I don’t have to have lads tomorrow, but it damn sure has to be on the menu.
I’m a family man.
Through and through.
Rolling off our lumpy gray cloth couch is followed by me crossing the short distance to where she’s physically and verbally assaulting the coffeemaking device. Upon my arrival, I immediately notice the problem. The lifting of the cord is done on a crooked grin as is the plugging in.
Her dark brown eyes twitch in irritation. “Why was it unplugged?”
“Guessing someone unplugged it to use the toaster.”
“Ugh,” she grumbles and pushes the on button again, “I fucking hate that this stupid fucking kitchen only has one working outlet.” With the machine now successfully in motion, she looks up at me with a curious expression. “So, why’d she write her number down on paper instead of you just putting it in your phone?”
I lean my gray sweatpants covered arse against the edge of the counter. “She’s a different gen.”
“Like camped out for tickets to The Backstreet Boys or camped out for tickets to The Beach Boys?”
“Why are those the choices?”
Gabby grabs a k-pod from the nearby box. “Bitches love groups of pretty boys.”
Laughter escapes as I fold my arms across my chest. “Even you?”
“Hey, just because I’m singing for the same team you are right now, never forget I don’t mind playing bass for the other.” Her wink is given right before she shoves the object into the opening. “Now, which is it? BSB or BB?”
“I honestly don’t know her musical preferences – or remember her exact age – but if I’m making an educated guess, I’d say the former.”
“Okay, so you won’t be Driving Miss Daisy.”
My eyebrows lift in confusion. “What?”
“It’s an old movie,” she brushes off and slams down the handle. “A non-Elvis old movie making it not important to you. What is important is you’re not about to reenact it with this older, hot little piece.”
“How do you know she’s attractive?”
“Have you ever fucked an ugo?”
Goal Gabby.
Although, beauty is quite subjective, so I may have.
