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The reminder of his body against mine.
My body against the wall during his exploration of me.
Me on my knees.
“Don’t choke on a noodle,” he adds with a wink. Knowing that he has had a first-hand encounter with my lack of gag reflex, I can't help but blush at his comment. He moves toward the door, only taking a few steps before he is there.
“Do you like General’s Chicken? My dinner plans are already canceled since Rory won’t be home tonight and it’s best enjoyed hot.”
He pulls his hand back from the knob as if weighing his options.
“Are there people who don’t like General’s Chicken? I mean that shit is so fucking good it borders on orgasmic.”
Alright, this is for sure the worst idea ever.
A long pause and then he makes his way over to the counter where the takeout bag continues steaming.
“Plates?”
“Oh, umm, I think they are all dirty right now. We can put everything on the coffee table.”
As we sit on the floor of my living room, I am brought back to before I even owned furniture. I moved into this place at the end of college and was so broke I could only afford rent and utilities. Over time, I slowly acquired pieces at yard sales. Slowly, this place became a home.
Curtains from a nearby thrift shop.
A couch I found outside a frat house that may or may not have been up for grabs. No one said anything as Rory and I loaded it into the truck and after Rory helped me bleach bomb the whole thing, I opted for a slipcover just in case.
And the coffee table she helped me build out of old wooden crates we found in the trash room of our building.
The two of us learned quickly what makes a house a home and it’s not the furniture.
BK insists on using the chopsticks that came in the bag. I am a savage and use a fork. I have never had the coordination for chopsticks so I don’t even pretend that I can manage them. We are quiet for a while, drowning in the savory taste of garlic and ginger.
“Do you always eat your food together like that? Like chicken and noodles in the same bite?”
“What? I guess I don’t notice I’m doing it. Is that weird?” He replies with a puzzled look in his eyes.
“No, I - I guess it’s not weird. I have just never seen someone do that. Let alone with chopsticks, you have to like pile everything and reconfigure. Seems like a complicated way to eat, that’s all.”
He chuckles, putting his chopsticks down onto the spread-out lo mein container.
“And I suppose you think the way I hang my toilet paper is strange too?”
My jaw freezes mid-chew. Crap, he already figured out that was me? I barely made it a few hours before being found out. I guess getting caught in his office made it a little obvious. Part of me was hoping what I did on my knees might have erased that from his memory. No such luck for me this time.
My brain finally reminds my mouth to finish chewing and I swallow the bite I have been holding. It is almost quiet enough to hear me gulp it down.
“I had my suspicions but you are looking really fucking guilty right about now, Carter.” I shouldn’t love my name on his lips as much as I do. The extra breath he takes at the end as if saying my name knocks the wind from his lungs.
“Innocent until proven guilty. Did you dust for fingerprints? Do you have cameras in your office or something?”
We both stop our chewing now, our minds drifting back to this morning and what indecent act could have been caught.
“Oh no, please don’t tell me there are actually cameras in your office, BK,” I stutter out. I can feel my temperature rising from pure panic. What if Ovis has cameras in his office and now they have that on tape? My career is over before it even started.
“No, fuck. That would be so weird. I don’t have cameras in there. The only video of that is playing on a nonstop loop in my head,” he confesses, eyes staying locked on his chopsticks. His admission seems to have caused his coordination to break as he struggles to wrap a noodle around them.
I’m trying to decide what to say in response to that.
