“He’s my roommate and will make you think he hates living with me and the guys, but I know he secretly loves it. Don’t tell him I said that.” He winks at me. “He’s our catcher, six three, doesn’t smile too much, but he likes to fuck around. Has a nice face—also don’t tell him I said that. I’ll deny it. Fun fact, he’s Coach’s foster-ish son. He didn’t foster or adopt him, but he sort of raised him. So, Coach has a soft spot for him, although he doesn’t show it.”
Relaxed and playful like he always is. Good.
“You and the guys? How many of you live together?”
“Five of us. Noah, Angel, Kai, Gray, and me,” he replies. “Gray wasn’t supposed to move in with us but there was a mix-up. He’s a pompous, obnoxious pain in the ass, but he’s not that bad.”
“So, which is it—pompous, obnoxious, or not that bad?” We keep moving in circles, still staying in the shallow end but moving around.
His lip twitches. “Honestly, still thinking about it.”
My lips mirror his. “Do you like living with all the guys?”
I wonder what having a roommate must be like. But then again, I shouldn’t because I lived with Mom and we might as well have been roommates because family is far from what we felt.
“Yeah, except on the occasion when I’m tired and want to sleep but can’t because of the parties or someone acting like they’re shooting a porno.”
I understand what he means by that, and it makes me think of what Bryson said:He likes to fuck around a lot.I didn’t have to ask around because I heard the stories. Since he and Amanda broke up, he’s been making up for everything he missed out on when he was in a relationship.
I’ve done an embarrassingly amount ofresearchon him.
“Can’t say I relate.”
“Never had roommates?”
“Unless you want to count my mom. That is until she…” I swallow past the knot that came out of nowhere. “I’ve been living alone since.”
It gets lonely and depressing, but it is what it is.
He stares at me longingly and a streak of empathy flashes in his eyes. “If you’re looking for a roommate, I’m more than willing to move in,” he jokingly says. But like he’s really trying to sell himself, he adds, “I’m a great cook. I’m clean. I’ll keepthe noise to a minimum. And the season will be picking up this coming month, so you’ll hardly see me around.”
I shouldn’t but I play into it. “I tend to be a little bit of a control freak.”
He hums. “I like people telling me what to do.”
“No, I mean it. I like things a particular way.” That’s not a joke. I need structure and organization. Without my planner, I’m nothing.
“I’m a fast learner and I’m good about following the rules.”
“I don’t cook.”
“You won’t have to.”
I can’t help the way my lips just barely stretch. “Parties aren’t allowed.”
The house is in my name, but it still doesn’t feel like mine.
“Thank God. Maybe now I’ll be able to get some sleep.”
“I take my sleep seriously. So, if you were to…” The knot grows, and my stomach plummets. “Bringsomeoneover, you’d have to keep the noise low.”
“Why would I invite anyone over when you’re here?” He stares, perplexed, but then his eyes widen like he realized what he said. “I didn’t…I wasn’t trying to insinuate that we’d fuck. Jesus Christ. I’m…” He shakes his head, but an amused expression mars his face. “I promise I’m never like this, but you just…”
“I just what?” I hold my breath.
“My brain short-circuits when I’m around you,” he honestly replies.
I’m not sure what to say or how to feel about that. “Should I be offended or?—”
