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“So, I was right. A hallway is impressive.”
“No, do not mention another word. That was all a lie.”
“Didn’t seem like a lie to me.”
Tomas smirks at me, and I feel my cheeks flush.
“I bet you don’t fart either,” Tomas adds, and I waggle my finger at him.
“I don’t. I’m a clean-air vehicle.”
He laughs as he helps me refill our drinks and then we walk outside, sitting down on a porch swing. We watch as the dogs romp around the yard, getting dirty all over again, my efforts of bathing them left in vain.
“Well, that was a waste of my life. I could have been doing something more productive…”
“Like making a booger alley.”
“Oh my god. I’m never living that down.”
“Sure aren’t.”
I sigh and then lean my head against his shoulder, not really meaning to, but feeling like I can. He knows about my boogers now. He tenses for a second before relaxing against me.
“Don’t worry, your sordid history doesn’t deter me. I still like you.”
My heart flutters in my chest. I know he doesn’t mean it like that, but it still makes me slightly giddy, makes my breathing come out a little harsher.
“Well, I like you too.”
He leans into me a little, and then we sit there for what feels like hours, just making small talk and drinking our drinks until they’re empty. And then Tomas goes home so I can work.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like filming myself.
For the first time in a long time, I just don’t want to.
THREE
Tomas
I can’t stop watching the neighbor. I mean—not really the neighbor. The neighbor’s house sitter. Damon.
Damon, the gay camboy, who I should definitelynotbe watching like the creep I’m making myself out to be right now. I should be working on the car parked above me, should have my focus on the undercarriage. But instead, I find myself staring, fascinated by Damon as he tries to wrestle a piece of fabric from one of the dog’s teeth. He is fighting like hell, and Peanut isn’t giving him an inch.
I can see him talking, his hand on his hip, in what I’m sure is a sassy tone, and my eyes trace the way his mouth moves. Those pink, puffy lips. The way they sass and snark.
I wrench my gaze away from them and stare at the grass. It’s very long and green. Green, like the shirt he’s wearing.
Fuck.
My eyes travel across his lean body, and he cocks his head, waggling a finger at the dogs. Fuck, he’s intriguing. I’ve never met anyone like him before. And it’s not the gay part—I’ve known a couple of gay guys in my life. It’s just, there’s something about him. Something that has me curious.
No. Not curious like that. No way in fucking hell.
Shit. One night of a guy falling asleep on me and rubbing that oily stuff on my arms and I’m all messed up. My brain is all scrambled. Even the boogers didn’t deter me.
But it’s not just any guy. It’s Damon. He’s different in so many ways.
It’s the way he dresses and speaks and smells.
