“Go away,” he grumbles but doesn’t move.
“No,” I say, standing there with my arms crossed and my feet planted. Something about this guy just pisses me off. He reeks of privilege.
“Kelly isn’t going to be happy until you eat.” My nose wrinkles as I take in the scent of the room and notice his not-so-white tennis shoes are still on his feet. “You should have left those by the door. Kelly doesn’t need shit tracked into her house.”
He rolls over on the bed now, his dark hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead with sweat and dirt. His blue eyes stare icy daggers my way.
“And you need to take a damn shower. You stink.”
“Fuck you,” he says, his movements slow as he sits up on the bed, wincing slightly with every pull of muscle. I was right about him being lean, but he has more muscle tone than I realized as I notice his arms are well-defined and his abs flex when he moves. “You can go.”
My eyes jerk up to his face when his words startle me. I realize I was watching him, looking him over for far too long that I actually may have gotten a little lost. That was weird. I quickly recover, though, and drop my arms down to my sides, waiting for him to at least pick up the plate of food. “You need to eat, and you need to shower.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” I say effortlessly, but then I think about Kelly and all the things she’s done for me over the years, and I huff. “But Kelly does. So eat and shower. Your choice which one you do first, but you’re doing both.”
“I don’t need a shower, and I’m not hungry.”
“You either shower on your own, or I’ll pick your scrawny ass up and toss you in.” God, he’s a pain in the ass.
His scowl does nothing to me, and while he was fairly docile just a moment ago, probably from the sleep, I see the moment his brain switches over into merciless asshole mode. “If you wanted to shower with me, all you had to do was ask. No need to go all caveman on me.”
The statement takes me back so quickly, I step back, and my back hits the wall behind me. “W-what?”
His blue eyes roll in his head, but he barely moves. “You heard me.”
I stare at him in shock. Is he... he’s just messing with me. But his stare is intense. Unwilling to look away, and I find myself squirming though physically still as my back presses up against the wall. “I’m not...” I clear my throat, not sure why I’m so uncomfortable. “I’m not gay,” I finally get out. My chin lifts stubbornly as I challenge him—in what? I’m not really sure. I just... I’m not gay. Why the hell would he talk about showering with me?
That’s not what I meant when I said I’d toss him in the shower, damn it.
Again with his eyes rolling in his head as he shakes his head but then hisses like he’s in pain and halts all movement again. “So showering with another guy is gay?”
My jaw drops just slightly, and I struggle to close my mouth again. Kelly’s nephew is gay? She didn’t mention that. I mean, not that it’s a bad thing or anything like that. Or something she needs to mention...
No. I just... I didn’t even think about that when he showed up. I don’t know many gay people. It’s not something I think about a lot or assume about people.
“Jesus. Fuck. Don’t break your brain.”
My heads snaps toward him as he reaches for the plate, his face showing pain with each movement. “My brain isn’t broken.”
“I’m fucking with you about the shower. I’d rather shower with Bessie out there...”—he motions behind him, through the window—“than with you. But that’s not because you’re a dude. That’s because you’re a prick.”
My mouth turns down into a deep frown. “Stop talking about showering with me,” I snap.
That makes him chuckle, but it’s not a happy laugh. It’s cruel and cold, like I’m a joke to him. “I’m not gay, by the way. You can just settle on down. But maybe tone down the clichés, why don’t you?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, and when I realize I’m wavering from one foot to the other, it takes me a second to stop the motion and stand still. “What cliché?”
“The small-town bullshit. Big farm boy terrified of gay people. Can’t even fathom that you might be in the presence of someone who might be gay.” He takes a bite of chicken. “It’s pathetic, and it makes me think maybe there’s something deep in there, all repressed and shit, trying to claw its way out any time I meet a homophobe.”
My mouth drops open again, and I close it, but it opens again as I struggle with words. Everything inside me grows hot with fury, and I feel my cheeks flush. “I’m not... that’s such.” Shit, I hate I let him get me flustered. “Listen, asshole. I’m not a homophobe. I just don’t know any gay people, and I didn’t know you were...” I wave my hand in front of me frantically, not sure what I’m trying to say. “Or I guess you’re not? So you say. But you were trying to make me think you were or some shit.”
“You seem a little flustered. Did someone just have an awakening?” he taunts me, looking far too proud of himself, and I kind of hate myself in the moment because I let him bait me.
“Eat and then shower. You smell like ass, and you need to be up bright and early tomorrow morning.” I make my way to thedoor, and the last thing I hear is his satisfied little chuckle as I slam the door behind me.
Asshole.
