Page 64 of Roommate
But as I listen to him singing about the way his heart lifts when he sees that special someone’s smile, it occurs to me to realize I should have expected for more. I mean—I would never demand he sing about me in an obvious way. But why shouldn’t he have wanted to?
He never did, though, and I never asked why. And although I’d sometimes demanded more of Brian’s time, I’d never demanded more of his heart.
I’d sold myself short from the start. Brian was a first-class dick, yeah, but putting up with it was on me.
“Can we shut this off?” I blurt out.
“Sure.” Kieran smacks the power button and the radio falls silent. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s your truck.”
“Not a fan of country?”
“Hate it,” I confess. “Spent too many years in Nashville.” That’s for damn sure.
He gives me an appraising glance before pulling into the pizza joint parking place. “Be right back.”
* * *
The truck smells like pizza on the way home.
And that’s when I realize that I never transferred the groceries from my car to Kieran’s truck. I let out a groan of pure unhappiness at the thought of my pork loin being towed to a garage right now.
“What’s the matter?”
Embarrassed, I explain the problem to Kieran. It’s not like he won’t notice when I have no ingredients to unload into our fridge. Today is like a bad dream I can’t wake up from. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry about dinner.”
“It’s only thirty degrees out right now. Your groceries will be fine sitting in the car all night. We can get them tomorrow.”
The idea of Kieran having to drive out to get them makes me want to howl. I’m so tired of being a hot mess. But I don’t know how to stop being one. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what? Cars break.” He makes the turn onto the town green. We’re almost home.
“For being your crazy, unreliable roommate. Again.”
“You had a shit day Roddy, they happen. They happen a lot, honestly. We’re going to eat pizza and drink a beer. Wait. Do you not like beer?” By the sound of his voice I can tell the question alarms him a little.
“I like it fine. But broke guys don’t drink beer.” I am a broke guy again. Thinking about my car repair bill makes me want to howl, too.
“Look,” he asks as the house comes into view. “Are roommates supposed to tally everything to the penny? Am I doing it all wrong? I’m new with this.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong. Not one thing.” I swallow hard. “I’m the dysfunctional one in this vehicle. The roommate rules clearly state that you don’t jump your hot, drunk roommate, and then act like a drama queen afterwards. You probably think I’m insane.”
“Nah.” He makes a dismissive sound. “You told me your issues. I get it.” He pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine and the lights.
“Why do you have to be so fucking decent?” I ask into the sudden silence. “It makes the rest of us look bad.”
Kieran sits still in the darkness, as if this was a serious question. “I’m just like you, though. Just trying to figure my shit out. You’ve already helped me with that, by the way.”
“Because I made your dick stand up and cheer?”
He snorts loudly. “The things you say. You’re fearless.”
“Yeah, but not wise.” I unclip my seatbelt and reach for the door handle.
“Maybe just ease up on yourself for one night?” Kieran says, pocketing his keys. “We’re going to watch a little TV and have some pizza and a beer. Or not the beer. Whatever. I offer it to you with no expectations. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. You just seem like a guy who could use a piece of pizza and a hug.”
“Ha. You of all people are not a hugger.”
