“I’m not asking for anything from you. Just to be here. To be you. To maybe not pretend to be so messy.”
“Oh, about that,” I said, wincing. “I am actually kind of messy.”
“Are you? Or have you just never had somewhere to put your stuff?”
“I have no idea. I totally was trying to make the common area a mess too. Oh, and only a psychopath would organize the pantry in alphabetical order.”
“I was seriously questioning your sanity with that one,” he admitted. “I don’t mind a little mess.”
“Liar.”
“What?”
“I’ve never seen anyone load the dishwasher as much as you do. And don’t think I don’t hear that robot vacuum running all night long. I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure you also squeegee the shower each time you get out.”
“I do,” he agreed, smiling. “Think cleaning up after myself might be because I was so friendly with the housekeeper growing up, and I didn’t want to create more work for her.”
“You know, they sell stuff to spray on the glass so the water just slides off, no marks?”
“Yeah?”
“Laziness has its perks,” I said with a nod.
“So, what do you say?”
“To staying?”
“Yeah. But without all the walls. And the games.”
“Um, well…”
“The stock challenge still stands,” he said, reading my mind.
“Then I think maybe we can try.”
“That’s all I can ask. Now, I was thinking Alfredo for dinner.”
“Yes, please.”
“Wanna come keep me company while I cook?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“If we can watch my buddy’s stream.”
“Why do I sense something mischievous behind those eyes?”
“What? It’s a stream. He reads poetry!”
Erotic poetry.
While he lazily jerked off.
And his target audience was fellow gay men. But he’d been my cousin’s neighbor for years, and I was his first subscriber since back then, so I was determined to always support him.
“I get the feeling you’re going to keep me on my toes.”
