Page 40 of The Tomorrows After You
We’ddevelopeda light contentious battle of wits, each of ustryingto one-up the other any time weinteracted, whichwasn’taltogether that much. Ihadto work a good amount after one of the guyscalledin sick all week.
Ittooksomegettingusedto, having another person share my space. Iremindedmyself that Ihadlivedin a six-by-eight cell with another person for ten years.Sharinga kitchen shouldn’t be that difficult. But shetestedmy patience. The morning after the hospital, I’dgottenup early to make a pot of coffee.
“Dear God, you call this coffee?”Her facetwistedwith disapproval.
“What’s wrong with it?” I took a sip to make sure it brewed correctly. “Tastes fine to me.”
Her eyes rolled dramatically. “This issoGodot. Just accepting shitty standards because they’re present.”
She still drank the coffee every morning, she just made sure to groan audibly enough so that I knew she wasn’t happy about it.
As the days went on, the more opposite I realized we were.
I used one dish. She used all the dishes.
Ittookme two hours to do laundry.
It took her two days.
I wondered how on Earth she had gotten anything done before. And what her old apartment must have looked like.
“I had a laundry service,” she’d said after I asked her how green her clothes got when they sat in the washer at her apartment in Easton.
I scowled at her, throwing a ball of wet clothes her way when I told her thatIwasn’t her laundry service.
She’d stuck her tongue out at me and I’d wanted to bite it off.
For all the grief I gave her, I found myself looking forward to getting out of bed in the morning. To coming home at night. Her presence filled my little double-wide with things I didn’t know it was missing. Air. Life. Color. Laughter.Heart.
Platonic, temporary heart. But heart nonetheless.
Brennan came around more often too. I was still wary of their friendship but I missed my brother. He’d spent so much time holed up in his little adult treehouse that it was refreshing to have him stop over each afternoon while Nicolette barked answers atJeopardy!
Itbecamea nightly routine, and itwasjust another item on my new list of things Ilookedforward to. The three of usmadeadrinkinggame out of it. The first person to answer correctlychosesomeone to drink. Iwasfar out of my league with those two andwentthrough a lot of beer.
Nicolette insisted her ankle was fine and was still bicycling all over Godot. She hadn’t complained once until this afternoon when a knock landed on my bedroom door.
Fresh out of the shower, Iwascladin a towel,pullingmy bedroom door open. Shestoodin front of me,soakingwetfrom head to foot, her golden hairplasteredto her face. Itriedto keep my eyes on her face but the way her nipplesbeadedunder the thin materialmademy groin ache and what I wouldn’t do to drag my tongue across—
“Can Ipleaseborrow your truck? I tried riding to my Field Days committee meeting and there’s a goddamn monsoon happening outside.” She pouted, holding her clasped hands in front of her.
“Nope,” I smirked, enjoying the way the fury crept up her neck.
She stomped her foot in that bratty little way she had the first day I’d met her.
“Fine, but if I get the flu I am going to sneeze all over every piece of food in that fridge!” She took a step closer to me, pushing my bare chest with her index finger. I grabbed her finger and glared into her heated eyes.
Her facewasso close to mine that I could smell the rain on her skin. The deep gold of herwethairleftdroplets running down her chest,disappearinginto the crevice between the swell of her breasts. Iletgo andbackedup a pace, aware Iwasin only a towel and itwasabout to gettentedif I didn’t step away.
The bratty attitude had all but ebbed away and was replaced by a slow smirk that crept across her face. As if reading my mind, she took a step back, raking her eyes down my body.
“Careful, Riot.” Her tongue darted out, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, trying to mask the satisfied smile on her face. “Your pupils are dilating.”
My face grew hot. She swaggered away like she had that first day and I was acutely aware my cock had thickened against the rough towel. “I’ll be waiting in your truck,” she tossed over her shoulder.
I opened my towel and gazed down at myself.
“Traitor,” I muttered.
