Sitting above Dragonfly Books is my apartment. It used to be storage, but it just made sense when Mom died to change it back into an apartment and live there. While I missed our old house, I couldn't walk past her room without my heart shattering over and over. Dragonfly was home. This was the place of all my happy memories. Plus, the added expense hadn’t helped.
The stairs going up to the apartment are questionable with old creaky wood that groans under each of my steps. Two steps are broken, and another well on its way. I mentally add another thing to my to-do list.
I would just like to point out that with my track record, I should not be allowed to operate a hammer.
Once at the top, there are two doors, one that leads to my apartment and the other to the apartment over the tattoo shop. Yeah, did I mention the bookstore was next to a tattoo shop filled with big, sexy tattooed men?
They are all half scarier than shit, and half hotter than fuck.
Oh, what I would give just to…Yep, you get the picture.
I open the door and I’m greeted by an angry-looking Gallifrey. His long, orange, flowing mane makes him look like he has attitude for days. I kick off my shoes, set down my backpack, and make my way towards the kitchen area to my left. The apartment has an open loft concept, with walls of exposed brick that travel from the floor all the way up to the ceiling. In the middle of the room is a nice, big, so-comfy-you-could-get-lost-in-it couch, with throw blankets scattered across the back. The bookshelves line both sides of the TV that hangs on the wall. On a raised platform, tucked in the corner, is my bed. The keeper of flat pillows.
“Yes, I know, I’m getting there,” I say to Gallifrey. “You act like I never feed you and we both know that is a lie. Just ask the kitty hammock.” Gallifrey meows in annoyance.
“Yes, I do believe it could have been a design flaw!”Sure, we’ll go with that.
Opening the cupboard, I grab a can of his favorite food and put it in his dish.
Making my way over to my bed, I pull off my cold, drenched clothes as I go. When I get my shirt over my head, I lose my balance and run right into the corner of the bed.
“Ouch… fuck,” I groan, questioning if I’ll ever be able to walk again. Nope, I will forever be known as the boy who died half naked. And yes, I’m aware that I might be slightly dramatic and also accident prone. I can’t help it. Trust me, I’ve tried.
Making my way into the bathroom, I turn the shower to hot and peel my jeans off while almost ripping the towel rack off the wall.Why did I put on my skinny jeans today? Ugh!Probably because they make my ass look fantastic.
I turn to look in the mirror as the bathroom fills with steam. My shorter brown hair is a crazy mess, and my usual pale skin has hints of red because of the cold. My soft brown eyes look tired and my shoulders sag as the weight of the day becomes too much.
There are days I ask myself if I can handle this, running Dragonfly Books and school. My only saving grace is that I’m almost done with college.
A sigh of relief escapes me as I hop into the shower, letting the hot water wash over my skin and warm my bones.
As I shampoo my hair, my thoughts go to the tattooed gods one building over. They are all hot. So hot, like, I just do not understand. Is there a rule that you have to be hotter than sin to tattoo people? Just the thought makes my hand glide over my thickening cock, giving it a few hard strokes. The guys are all hotter than hell and have occupied my brain on more than a few jerk-off sessions.
I can barely even talk to them. It’s hard enough to see Jaxon, the owner, at the town business meetings. I break out in hives, even trying to just make eye contact.
I wish I had time to jack off. I could use the release, but because I don’t, I let go of my dick, knowing my balls will hate me later. I need to go back downstairs to help Jules clean and lock the store.
After rinsing, I turn off the shower and quickly dry off.
I open my closet to find something to wear; I go for something warm. My bones are going to be cold for days.
Of course, my phone rings as soon as I pull my giant purple knitted sweater over my head. I see Jules didn't waste any time when I notice it is Alex.
I sigh and answer, “I already know what you're gonna say.”
“You could have called me, Spencer. I’m sitting at home playing video games.”
“Yeah, I know, thank you. I appreciate it. Next time I get caught in a freak rainstorm, I’ll call you.”
No, No I will not call him.I love Alex, but he is the absolutely worst driver.
“I’ll make sure to bring my helmet that day,” I say jokingly, as I throw on a pair of jeans.
“A person hits one mailbox and everyone assumes they are a terrible driver,” he says like he is offended. “I was saving a wild animal!”
Trying to hold back my laughter. “You swerved to miss a squirrel that was at least a block ahead of you. Poor Ms. Bakers lost the raspberry jam competition that year because you ran over her raspberry bushes!”
I sit at my desk in front of my mirror and grab my brush, willing my hair to do something.
