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“Why was he even in your bathroom?” I ask.
“He was washing towels and figured he’d toss mine in too. My Batdick was lying on the sink. I thought he was going to have a heart attack. He turned so red.”
“Batdick?” Hemi quirks a brow.
“They have vibes inspired by comic heroes. I might have a small collection. Anyway, I’m sure he’ll get over it, but having my dad as my roommate when I’ve been living away from home for three years is an adjustment.”
“Rix’s roommates invited her to join their pirate role-playing sex party, which is how she ended up living with Madden and Stiles,” Hemi says, then cringes. “Sorry. That wasn’t my story to share.”
I shake my head. “I tell anyone who will listen. It’s like free therapy. I came home to find my roommate, naked, tied to a pillar in the living room. I decided it was best that I move out.”
Hammer nods slowly. “That’s understandable.”
“Yeah. But my brother’s place only has one bathroom, and I’m sleeping on a futon in their game room-slash-loft. It has no doors, so the shower is my only private time.”
Hammer puts a hand to her chest. “Please tell me the showerhead is removable.”
“Unfortunately, it’s not.”
“You poor thing.” Hammer’s tone is full of empathy.
“I’m sure Stiles would be more than happy to help you out with that.” Hemi smiles slyly.
I almost choke on a mouthful of martini. “We can’t stand each other.”
Hemi shrugs. “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you. And imagine how good the hate-fucking would be.”
“Stiles is highly fuckable,” Hammer says.
“I’m sure there are an extraordinarily high number of women who can attest to that,” I mutter.
“I need those two to settle down. I get it during the rookie years, but Madden has sowed more oats than a farmer.” Hemi stops herself. “Which I’m sure you don’t want to talk about since you get to witness it firsthand.”
I nod. “It’s one thing to know it’s happening, thanks to the media. It’s another to listen to it.”
“Oh, God.” Hammer blanches.
“I’ll be moving out as soon as I’ve nailed down a job,” I assure her.
“Totally reasonable.”
Hemi orders us another round of drinks and some appetizers. I internally cringe as I do the math and realize I’ve blown my entire monthly entertainment budget and cut into my grocery fund. I have savings, but without a source of income, I need to be extra careful. It’s a tough line to toe, having fun with friends but not spending money I can’t afford to part with.
But then we get to laughing again, and I relax. Eventually Hemi calls for the bill and waves us off when Hammer and I pull out our credit cards. “I invited you out, and this was a debrief meeting,” she says to Hammer. “I got this.”
“Are you sure? That was the excuse I gave my dad so he wouldn’t keep texting, asking for updates on when I’m coming home.”
“Still, we talked about the team, so it counts.”
I thank Hemi profusely, and we part ways outside the bar with a promise that I’ll message when I have job news. A new text appears as I reach the subway. Hemi has set up a group chat. I love that I’ve been living in this new spot less than a week, and I’m making friends. Most of my colleagues at my previous firm were older with families, so we never hung out after hours.
I’m riding the high of the interview and the buzz of two martinis as I head home. And I spend the entire train ride listening to a spicy romance audiobook, which probably isn’t the best plan since I’m coming back to a doorless, wall-less room. But when I arrive, my brother’s door is wide open, meaning he’s out. Tristan’s door is shut, so he may or may not be home.
I quietly climb to the loft. Someone was playing video games earlier, based on the empty chip bag on the coffee table. The futon and the floor are littered with crumbs.
I sweep the crumbs onto the floor and spread a blanket out over the surface of the futon, debating my options. Listening to delicious smut has me all amped up. The bathroom offers privacy, but if Tristan is home, he’ll probably knock on the door to be annoying.
I can be quiet about it. I can get myself off without making a ton of noise. I rummage around in my tote bins and find my trusty purple vibrator. It’s nothing fancy, but it does the trick. I grab my clit sucker while I’m at it. It’s noisier, but super effective.
I lie on the futon. Mood music would be helpful, but I don’t want to make unnecessary noise. I get up to shuck off my clothes and change into one of my nightshirts. Easy access is where it’s at. I stretch back out on the couch, pulling a sheet over me. It’s hot up here, but I can always shower when I’m done. I need some release. Maybe I can stockpile a few orgasms. That’s a best-case scenario, but one will take the edge off.
