Page 103 of Not That Ridiculous

His nostrils flared as he looked down at where the beige linoleum sagged, making a giant dimple in the floor.

“It’s more of a depression really,” I said. “It’s a theoretical hole. I haven’t looked.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I waited, but that was all he said. Giving me a tight smile, he set his wash bag on the back of the toilet and pulled out his toothbrush. He loaded it up with toothpaste, jammed the brush in his mouth, and glared at me.

I glared back. “It’smystupid bathroom,” I said, loading up my own toothbrush. “I’ll get to it when I have the time.”

Sighing through his nose, he reached out and turned the tap on.

Tried to turn the tap on.

He twisted it and stood there, staring, waiting for the water to come out. He flinched and looked over his shoulder when a pipe at the other end of the landing behind us banged.

I pushed his hand away, spat out my mouthful of foam and said, “There’s a trick to it.” I twisted the tap on and off twice, there was another bang and a whooshing sound, then the water shot out. “Meet you in bed? Cool.” I rinsed my brush, stuck it in its holder, and ran for the bedroom.

I was lying on my back with the duvet up to my chin when Kevin walked in.

“Listen,” I told him. “This place was sold as a fixer-upper. I knew what I was getting into. Circumstances changed on me, that’s all. Yes, there are some quirks, but I can live with them until I get my shit together and can find the time and emotional capacity to start fixing it up. And frankly,” I finished, “I’m not sure I care for your judgement.”

The whole time I was talking, Kevin was busy stripping. Since he was only wearing his sweatpants, that looked like him hooking his thumbs in the waistband and shoving them down. He kicked them off, picked them up and folded them neatly, set them on top of my chest of drawers, then flipped the duvet back and climbed into bed.

“I’m not judging,” he said, scooping me up against his hot, naked body. “I am assessing.”

“There’s a difference?” I grabbed his arse. Why not? It was right there.

“Yes.” He tugged at my boxers and t-shirt. “Why are you dressed?”

“These are my pjs.”

“Take them off.” His eyes were heavy.

“Fine, but no more orgasms. I’m knackered.”

He nodded and propped himself up on an arm, watching as I scrambled out of my t-shirt and boxers. I put them on top of the bedside table, and snapped off the lamp. As soon as I did, Kevin threw an arm around me and dragged me against his body again.

Yeah, this was better. I hummed and rubbed against him subtly. He slid a leg between mine and kissed my nose.

“I’m not judging your house, Charlie,” he whispered. “I’m sorry if it feels like it. I want you to be happy. I don’t think you are.”

I looked into his eyes, admiring the familiar, gentle brown that did a terrifyingly good job of hiding the passionate, energetic, determined man he really was. “I’m happy right now.”

His full lips curled up in a sweet smile. “I’m going to keep making that happen for you,” he said, his voice slowing with sleep.

He zonked out in front of me, still smiling, still with a leg between my thighs and an arm around my waist.

I knew that it was creepy to watch someone sleep, but what was I supposed to do here, avert my gaze? It was the first time I’d ever had someone in my bed and I didn’t want to miss a thing. I watched his chest rise and fall. I listened to his breaths. I soaked in his heat.

Yeah.

I was happy right now. And I’d be happy for as long as Kevin stuck around.

However long that might be.

19

Sunday opening hours were eight to four, and even though I didn’t have my weekday commuters to cater for, it was one of the busiest days of the week.

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