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My eyes swivel back to Devon, and I notice that he has a bit of a plumber’s crack going on. Kind of hairy too. Not much to look at, actually. Quickly, I divert my eyes. I don’t need to be staring at some other guy’s butt.
I don’t need that permanently etched into my mind. Nope. I do not need that at all.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” I ask, and Devon huffs loudly, the sound echoing off the metal drum that he’s currently half inside.
“I know what I’m doin’,” he nearly shouts, and I bob my head, shifting on my feet. Not sure why he’s so insistent on proving that he knows what he’s doing, but then again, maybe it’s the fact that his unrequited love is somewhere in the building and he’s trying to make her proud. His virile display of manliness is being able to fix the broken dryer. Even though she’s not even here in the laundry room. Or anywhere in the vicinity. Not quite sure what Molly looks like, to be honest. Not sure she even really exists. Maybe she’s a drug.
That would make total sense. This island is full of drugs and drug addicts.
Maybe Devon is an escaped convict.
My mind is let loose, and I realize I’m going off the rails, but it’s hard to stop once it’s chugging down the tracks.
“I could…uh…I could look up the solution on YouTube,” I say, and Devon huffs again, his pants falling a little lower down his ass.
My eyes divert to the ceiling. Yup. It’s nice work up there. They did a really good job.
Devon moves out of the dryer and sits back on his haunches, running a hand through his dark brown hair until it’s sideways. He looks like Fred Flintstone again. Maybe I should get him a blue tie and an orange and black tunic.
“Listen here, Chase. I don’t need your fancy YouTube to solve the problem. I can figure it out myself. Like aman.”
My eyebrows rise at that, and I’m about to just nod and accept the fact that we might be here all day while he troubleshoots, when a feminine voice drawls, “Well, look who it is….”
Devon sticks his head right back into the dryer, ass out, pretending like he’s busy. I don’t know what the fuck is going on. All I know is there’s a woman standing with her hands on her hips, sighing loudly at Devon’s antics. She knows what’s up. She’s not fooled.
“You must be the new guy,” she tells me, and I shift on my feet.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, I’m not that old. Although, compared to you, I must seem like a mummy.”
She doesn’t. She’s like thirty, but still. Devon is still in the dryer being ridiculous so I lean over and kick him. Hard.
He knocks his head against the metal drum, and we hear the ringing loud and clear. I have quite possibly just gotten myself fired, but he’s being rude, and my mama didn’t raise me to be rude to women.
“What in the hell?” he murmurs and then sits up, rubbing his sore head. “Who kicked me?”
“She was talkin’ to you,” I say, and Devon flushes crimson, turning his head to look at the woman who is standing on the other end of the room, her brown hair up in a bun, her dark eyes tightening at the corners in frustration.
Must be Molly. Or at least I’m pretty sure it is.
“Hi there,” he says, and Molly narrows her eyes at him and then barks, “Can I speak with you?Alone?”
Devon nods, standing up and pulling his pants up a little before shuffling out behind her. After they leave, I pull up my YouTube app to try and figure out a way to fix this damn dryer. I don’t want to be here all day while he tries to prove himself.
Turns out, it’s easier than I expected. And thankfully Devon is gone quite a while, giving me plenty of time to tinker about. When he returns, I’ve managed to fix the dryer simply by plugging it in—the cord had come loose.
He looks a bit dazed, his hair now pushed in the opposite direction, his cheeks flushed crimson.
“How’d it go?” I ask him, putting the tools away.
Devon murmurs something under his breath and shakes his head.
“Not sure,” he mutters, and I bob my head because, really, what is there to say? Guys like him don’t talk. I don’t talk.
We just stare, likemen.
“You fixed it?” he asks, and I nod again, lifting up the toolbox and tilting my head toward the door.
