He flashed a grin over his shoulder and opened the next drawer. "They unzip into shorts. It's fine."
"I was more worried about your balls having enough room."
He laughed. "Thanks for thinking of them. These are stretchy. I'll be fine."
I didn't argue. He knew his wardrobe better than I did. He pulled on a blue t-shirt that matched his underwear, and then a lighter blue dress shirt with wide cuffs. Over that, he pulled on a blue and black plaid jacket with a fleece hood.
"Okay, ready!" He bounded to me, leaping over the stacks of books, magazines, and a pile of dirty clothes by the arm of his couch. "Well. Almost ready." He grabbed a pair of blue boots and thick brown wool socks from the rack by the door and pulled a stool over from the corner. The stack of books tottering on the seat toppled to the floor. There were the coffee table books I'd expected.
"Sorry the place is such a mess," he said as he tugged on his socks. "Saturday's my cleaning day, and I've missed two in a row."
It looked like he'd missed a calendar year of Saturdays to me, but I kept my mouth shut. "If you miss a Saturday, you could clean on Sunday."
The nasty squint he flashed in my direction said no, he could not. "I teach a class at the art museum on Sundays."
"Monday evening?"
"I was out with you."
"Tuesday evening?"
He sighed. "I get it. I could clean anytime, but it's hard. I find a book I want to read and before I know it, I've finished the book, and it's time to go to bed."
"On the couch?"
Instead of fighting me, he slumped over his knees and rested his chin on his hands. "I know it's not fancy."
"Now I wish I'd moved you to my bed. I felt bad for leaving you on the loveseat."
He laughed. "You shouldn't."
"But you deserve to sleep in a bed at least one night a week." I crossed my arms in front of me. "Next Saturday, we're cleaning your apartment. Together."
"Nope." The little half-grin and shake of his head intrigued me, but I couldn't explain why. "It's Becca and Bruce's wedding."
He had me there. The drive to protect my mate kicked in. "Do you even like hiking?"
He shrugged. "I haven't really tried it."
"That settles it," I said. "We're staying in and organizing your apartment."
7
GABE
Anger flared in my gut.Mika was my mate, but no one told me what to do. I'd moved out of my dad's apartment to avoid his constant bitching.
I swallowed hard and glanced around the room. This was nothing like my old room. My dad had yelled at me for leaving a book on a side table. Now, I had several piles of books on the floor beside my couch, since I didn't even have a side table.
I hadn't expected my dad to pack all my books in boxes. On moving day, he threatened to carry them to the curb if I didn't take them with me. The smart thing would have been to go through them and only take what I wanted, but who had time for that? Instead, I'd brought them all to my apartment, returned the boxes when he insisted he needed them two days later, and the piles still stood in stacks like abandoned and unstable buildings.
Not that Dad wanted to visit, but I wouldn't let him up to my apartment if he did. The place was a disaster zone, and he would have every right to say he told me so.
Mika tugged my crossed arms apart and slipped his hand into mine. The moment his warm skin made contact, my temper cooled.
He pointed to the walls behind my table. "My mom has some old bookshelves that would fit in this corner." His soothing voice calmed me even more. "If that's not enough, there are some really cool storage units at the home goods store. I've thought about getting some for myself."
"You wanted to go hiking," I whined. "I've fucked everything up."
