With a fresh perspective on my living situation, I step into my boxer briefs and sweatpants and flop on my bed, where I lean back on my pillows and place my plate of depressing dinner on my stomach and then one hand behind my head. I turn on the TV, which hangs on the opposite wall of my bed, and go straight to ESPN to watch some hockey. Racer’s friend, Hayden Holmes, who I met a few months ago, is now playing for the pro-team, Philadelphia Brawlers. He just made it big, so following his career has been fun. I like rooting for the newbie, but knowing him makes it that much sweeter.
Relaxing into my bed, I take a bite out of my sandwich and listen to the announcers prep viewers for the game, running over stats for both teams and the key players to watch. Since Hayden is the center for the Brawlers, his face is plastered across the screen, and unlike all the other players, he’s actually smiling in his picture, but that’s Hayden. The guy’s full of life.
Reaching for my phone, I shoot a text to Racer.
Tucker: The announcers seem to be jacking off over your boy’s stats.
Two more bites and my sandwich is done. Shit, I should have made another one. Normally I’d go downstairs, but with Logan down there, laughing like a fucking nimrod, I won’t.
My phone beeps back with Racer’s reply.
Racer: That text made me sound a little gay, but shit, with the salary Hayden is getting paid, I’d be gay for him.
I chuckle to myself and take a sip of my water.
Tucker: Why doesn’t that surprise me?
Racer: Maybe because I’m sick of working fucking side jobs to pay for my damn house on top of the workload I’m already doing.
Fucking Julius. I’ve been trying to get him to give Racer a raise for a few months now but he won’t budge, even though Racer is putting in extra work around the job site. Julius is a stingy bastard.
Tucker: I’m working on him.
Racer: I know. In the meantime, I’m working my way through Vestal Hills—Richville—feeling like Kurt Russell in Overboard, fixing rich bitches’ closets. Good times.
Tucker: Still doing that on the weekends?
Racer: Yeah, if the strip clubs weren’t one step away from handing out STDs when you walk in the door, I might consider taking my pants off for the ladies, but my dick is my best friend and I don’t want him to get any kind of venereal shit up his pee hole. What kind of friend would that be?
Fucking Racer and his dick. The man worships it. Pretty sure he writes a thank-you note to it every night, two if he gets laid.
Tucker: Life isn’t always about your dick, man.
Racer: Life is my dick.
Tucker: Did I mention I’m not friends with douche bags?
Racer: You’re too far into this relationship to drop me now.
The game starts and Hayden immediately takes control of the puck, breezing through the opponents, passing to his teammates, and making the game seem so easy, when in fact I know it’s not. Racer and I shoot the shit the entire time, talking about the game, about work, and about the bitchy women he’s been working for on the weekends. It’s a normal night for me, a night I’m settling into after my earlier unrealistic expectations.
My eyes start to drift shut as I hear the distinct sound of someone creeping up the stairs. Lazily, I look over to see Emma reach the top step and knock on the wall. Since there’s no door to my bedroom, it’s just a big open space.
“Come in.”
Wearing a matching blue pajama set with little pink hearts scattered over the fabric, hair tied up on the top of her head, and her face devoid of makeup, Emma approaches, hands twisting together in front of her.
When she spots me, her eyes temporarily go wide as they scan my naked chest. Normally I wouldn’t care about a girl seeing me without my shirt on, but I don’t want to make Emma feel uncomfortable. Although, from the way she’s looking at me, the heat passing over her eyes, I would say she’s less than uncomfortable.
I sit up on the edge of my bed, facing her, hands braced on the mattress beneath me and say, “Hey Emma, everything okay?”
She takes another step forward and nods. “Yeah, I, um, I wanted to say sorry about earlier.”
My brow pinches together in question. “Sorry about what?”
With her fingers, she starts to twist the bottom of her pajama shirt. It’s kind of cute how nervous she is. I’ve never seen this side of Emma. She’s always been very confident, never scared. Do I scare her? I sure as hell hope not.
“I should have asked if it was okay if Logan came over. It was inconsiderate of me. And then I got pizza without asking you if you wanted any. That was real shitty too. So basically, I’m a terrible roommate and I suck, and if you want to try to twist my nipple off as punishment, please do so. I accept the punishment.”
She shifts from foot to foot while glancing up at me, her face looking so regretful, it’s almost comical.
Fucking Emma.
Not saying a word, I stand and close the distance between us. Before she can react, I pull her into my chest and wrap my arms around her. For a second, she stands stiff as a rod until she slowly melts into my embrace and wraps her arms around me, her head gently pressing against my chest.
“No need to apologize, babe. This house is yours too. Do what you want in it. You don’t have to ask me permission to have a friend over and don’t feel like you have to include me in on anything. You do your thing, and if our paths cross, great.” I pull away for a second and lift her chin, those brilliant eyes staring up at me. I can’t help it, I add, “And twisting your nipple wouldn’t be punishment, it would be sweet gratification. Quote me on that.”
Surprised, maybe a little shocked, her mouth forms an O as I pull away and head back to my bed where I pat the other side for her to sit on. “Come on, have a seat.”
“But,” her voice is shaky as she continues, “what if I want our paths to cross? I want to spend time with you, too, Tucker. I’ve missed you.”
My lips twitch to the side, and I start to feel brighter, or something. Something I haven’t felt for a long time. “I missed you too, Emma, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to include me. I’m used to doing things on my own. Don’t let me get in the way.”
“You’re not, I promise. I’d like to include you, unless you don’t want to hang out.” She puts her hand to her head in distress. “Oh God, I didn’t even think about the fact that maybe you don’t want to hang out with me, that I’m actually encroaching on your space. I’m a dumbass.”
“Emma, get your ass over here, now.” My voice is stern, commanding, and without skipping a beat, she does as she’s told and sits next to me on the bed. I force her to look me in the eyes. “I’m not going to repeat myself when I say, I want you here. I’m glad you’re here, and I’m looking forward to spending more time with an old friend I lost touch with. Got it?”
She nods, a smile playing on her lips.
“Good. Now,” I shift on the bed and turn the TV down, “are you ready for our sex talk for the week. Might as well check off another rule for the week.”
“Sex talk, now?”
“Yeah, now.” I stand from the bed and go to the little attic closet right next to the stair landing and open the door. I reach for the box that hasn’t been touched in quite a long time and grab the first magazine from the top. Before I turn around, I swipe my hand over the top to give it a quick dusting and then walk back to my bed where I sit next to Emma and hand her the magazine.
“Playboy?” I rest my head against the wall and take in her innocent shock. It’s fucking cute.