I glance over my shoulder. He caught me reaching into my truck bed to do just that. “I mean, if it helps, my back has been feeling a lot better.”
Knox and I are opposites in a lot of ways. Where he’s organized, has direction, and a plan for his life, I wander aimlessly and accidentally demo floors. He takes most things seriously and always has a goal he’s working toward. You can even see it in our riding styles—where he is a picture-perfect, textbook example of how to ride bulls, my style is a little wild and reactive. I go out to the bar and pick up women, and he hits the gym and has a serious girlfriend now. But somehow, we still work. He’s my best friend, and he knows me better than anyone.
“Good, let’s keep it that way. I’m here to do the heavy lifting, but I don’t know shit about laying tile.” He shoves me out of his way and picks up a box.
“Oh, so you’re just grunt labor. Like my own personal manservant?” I gasp in mock surprise. His eyes narrow under his ball cap, giving me what I call his classic Dad glare.
I open the back door, letting him straight into the kitchen. He sets the box down and glances around. “I still can’t believe you tore out her kitchen floor. I bet she ripped you a new one.” He laughs at me.
“I didn’t mean to . . . and yes, she did.” I sigh and drag a hand through my hair.
“How do you not mean to demo an entire floor?”
I shrug. “It just happened. I get bored, okay?”
“Whatever you say,” he mumbles as he moves through the kitchen to peek into the living room. I lead him through the house, giving him a quick tour.
“Damn, you weren’t lying. This place needs work.”
“And I want to help Jessie, but she refuses to let me. She’s so distant. She works a ton, hardly ever talks to me, and wedon’thang out. I thought she was going to kick me out when she saw the floor. I’ve never lived with a woman, so I’m way out of my depth here.” I lace my fingers behind my head.
“From what Kacey says, she’s been on her own since she left for nursing school, and she isveryindependent and stubborn. Give her some time. And maybe stop destroying her house.” Knox takes off his cap and scratches his head beneath his mop of curly brown hair.
I chuckle. “Fair enough. Alright, let’s get this floor started.”
Little does he know I also don’t know shit about laying tile. But a woman on TikTok did it and said it was easy, and that’s where this whole mess started. Thankfully, it’s a small kitchen.
I’m a figure-it-out type of guy, and I like to tinker with things and work on projects. My teachers used to send notes home to my parents with my less-than-stellar report cards.Trey struggles with holding still and listening in class. I think the listening part was mostly because I never shut up. If I had a dollar for every time a teacher—or adult—told me to be quiet, I’d be a richer man. They just don’t understand; I’m a social butterfly, and you have to let me fly.
As I got older, my high energy reflected in my grades less. I’m not stupid. I enjoy learning new things, like laying tile, for instance. But learning by sitting around reading a book or listening to someone ramble was a challenge. It still is. But when I start something, I finish it—probably also due to my inability to sit still. It doesn’t matter if I’m hanging on the side of a bull at 6 seconds or overhauling a motor. I will give everything I have to see it through.
We have about half the tile down when I take a step back and admire our handiwork. “The lady on TikTok was right; this is easy.”
Knox’s head snaps my way. “Please tell me you did not learn how to lay tile from a TikTok video.”
I grin at him. Honestly, he should know better by now.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.
A few hours later, we have all the tile laid, but I can’t grout it yet. Barbra, the woman on TikTok, said to wait twenty-four hours before grouting, so this is all we can do today.
I’m cleaning the last of the supplies when Knox goes to the fridge for a bottle of water. “Uh, care to explain this?”
He points at the Roommate Rules magnetized to the fridge. An ever-growing list, it seems. That’s another thing I’m not great with—rules. I’ve never cared for them much. I think most of them seem pretty pointless, honestly.
“That’s our roommate rules.” I raise my brows, like,duh,it says it on the top of the page.
“And what were the circumstances that resulted in the don’t touch each other’s underwear rule?”
I chuckle. “Oh, yeah. That one. I honestly don’t think that was my fault. I was trying to be helpful and got in trouble. Now that I think about it, that happens a lot.”
“Was the underwearonher?” he asks slowly, like he’s afraid of my answer.
“No.” I purse my lips and narrow my eyes at him. “I fixed the dryer and did some of her laundry. And once again, got in trouble. Hence, the rule.” I shrug.
“Interesting. And I won’t even ask about the singing.”
“Probably best. Just don’t ever turn on the radio if she’s with you on a road trip—you might end up jumping out of a moving vehicle.”
