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My irresistibly sexy roommate adjusts his oversized, faded beige, linen pants and leans back in the patio chair he’s occupying on the small deck that is attached to his master bedroom. “Alright.” His hands are flashed in a surrendering fashion before folding together. “I’ll bite. What’s the twist?”
“Instead of putting down property pieces, we doodle the spaces like graffiti art.” Shoving my hands into the back pockets of my black, cut-off jean skirt occurs on an excited squeak. “I even picked up some metallic markers while I was at the grocery store earlier. Maybe at the end of the game – after I’ve taken all your money and everything you love – we can get a frame for my victory or at the very least a stand to display it on the kitchen table during brunch.”
Which he makes because evidently, it’s not enough for him to be sexy and charming and talented and intelligent.
He has to be the world’s best chef too.
As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve never had better huevos rancheros in my entire life.
“You’re talking shit, already?” he impishly laughs. “Do you have any idea how much its gonna hurt you to stare at my beautiful creation each morning while you pour us coffee or burn us toast?”
Yeah.
I even burn toast.
And…myself on the toaster.
My siblings ate a lot of cold and pre-packaged products both for safety and taste purposes.
“How about you pour us wine now while I get the shit set up?”
“I’m in.” Tucker beams brightly and slowly nods his head, an action ceased by his honking goose. “Nah, I’m not gonna take it easy on her, buddy. She poked the swan.” He cockily rises to his feet. “She gets the beak.”
Koose Koose honks a third time; however, it’s me who responds. “Yeah, you’re right. That threat was not nearly as intimidating as he thinks.”
His playful glare gets me giggling and bouncing off to get the game set up in the living room.
It doesn’t take long for me to completely unbox the new activity and its art counterparts, nor does it take much more time for me to pull up one of my favorite animes for streaming. In fact, the task that requires the most amount of time and focus is actually moving the furniture around for seating. Unsure if he wants us side by side or if that’s too “datey” leads to me pushing the wooden coffee table back and forth between the two dark brown leather couches and repeatedly jamming my big toe into different objects in between each decision. Eventually, I settle on rearranging it so that we’re beside each other yet able to rest our backs comfortably on our respective couches. To no surprise, my too hot for his own good roommate blatantly disregards the setup, plops down directly next to me, and accidentally elbows me in the side of my tit during his careless dumping of the items he brought over.
Rather than complain about the ruined play area, I poke, “Are you really just gonna eat all of the junk food you had me buy today in one sitting?”
“We are going to eat it,” he corrects prior to tossing aside the bank with the fake money, “and use it as currency.” He drops the container of Oreos down in its place. “Also, I offered to buy my own fucking food.” Gummy worms are plopped beside the cookies. “And to go to the store to get it.” The tubes of Pringles join the collection. “And to bring it into the house.” At that he meets my stare. “All of which you refused. Repeatedly.”
“Your aunt said she would pay for our groceries. Remember, she’s feeding me too, Tucker.”
“I can pay for our groceries.”
His possessiveness has my bent legs tightening together to stop the developing ache.
Okay.
He’s gotta knock that shit off.
Every time he goes Dragon Ball Z on me, all I wanna do is let him.
And I can’t let him.
I need my job.
Pretty sure Dakota needs new tires to make it up to Vlasta.
“You um,” I flick the lost strand of hair away from my forehead, “once bummed a ride with a soccer mom from a grocery store to a coffee shop where you then had a barista drop you off at a bus station at the end of their shift for fifty bucks.”
“I needed to get to an Elvis festival up in Applecourt.”
“That’s weird.” My casual brushing off is attached to helping arrange the empty wine glasses. “Lastly, I brought the groceries in on my own because you were in the middle of a therapeutic skinny dip after failing to sleep again last night.”
Plus, letting him help bring in sacks while I’m trying not to stare at his was the last thing my klutzy ass needed.
Like ever.
Like I never need help in that department.
