Page 44 of Dear Mr. Brody

He picked at his nails, calm as a cucumber. “You overslept.”

“Shit, what time is it?” I asked as I jumped out of bed, tripping over my sneakers, and nearly falling on my ass.

“Ten.”

“Fuck.” I grabbed the shorts I’d worn yesterday and pulled them on. “I’m so late.”

“I know,” he said, and the slight touch of glee in his tone pissed me off. “Did you pass out in a post, self-induced orgasmic coma and forget to set your alarm?”

“Why you’re so interested in my masturbation routines is beyond me. It’s weird, bro…”

“I’m weird?”

“Yeah… this isn’t news,” I said, digging through my dresser drawer and pulling out a t-shirt.

It was wrinkled and on the smaller side, but I hadn’t had time to do my wash all week. Maybe if I hadn’t been thinking with my dick every night, I might’ve been able to get some laundry done. I was up late again last night, chatting with James, more like getting off with James, but I wasn’t complaining. I’d have all the time in the world to get to know him after Friday.

“Why were you watching me sleep like a stalker?” I slipped my shirt over my head and grabbed a hat from the top of my desk.

“I wasn’t watching you. I was waiting.”

I looked over my shoulder and furrowed my brow. “Waiting for what? To scare me to death?”

“I figured you’d feel my presence and wake up… and you did.”

I laughed and he shrugged as I picked up my keys and wallet from the nightstand. “Your presence, huh? You should have woken me up, you knew I was late.”

“I’m not your babysitter,mijo. Or your momma.”

He followed me into the hall and all the way to the bathroom. “I need to take a piss.”

“So?”

“Get out,” I said, but of course he stood in the doorway like an asshole.

“Not like I haven’t seen your dick before.”

“I thought we’d agreed to never talk about that night.” I unzipped my shorts thinking he’d turn around or leave. He strummed his fingers on the doorjamb, instead.

“Believe me, that night has been violently scrubbed from my brain.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Walking in on you getting plowed is always a bad thing.” The soft line between his eyes deepened, his face contorting like he’d swallowed spoiled milk. “I really need a new best friend. I think we’ve crossed one too many lines, Park.”

I rolled my eyes and took a leak with my unwanted audience hovering in the doorway. “Why are you following me around like a lost kitten?” I asked as I finished up and washed my hands.

“Guess who I saw last night?”

I stared at his reflection in the mirror, twisting off the cap to the toothpaste. He was shirtless, wearing thin pajama shorts that did nothing to hide his junk. His hair was messy, sticking up on one side, and the mascara from the previous night had created heavy gray smudges under his eyes. He looked hungover as fuck.

“Based on your appearance, I’m afraid to ask.” I smiled around my toothbrush when he flipped me off.

“My appearance?” He bumped me with his hip, making room for himself at the sink, and leaned against the counter to get a closer look at his face in the mirror. He wiped a thumb under his eye and removed some of the dark make-up. “Honey, I can smell the spunk on you. You better do more than brush your teeth, or all the boys at Pride House will be scandalized.”

My smile withered and I spit my mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. “I do not smell like spunk.”

“Hmm… okay. You’re delusional... but okay.” He shrugged, and I snatched his cologne from the medicine cabinet.

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