I open the unlocked door, and the smell of pizza wafts into the tiny apartment. Damn, it smells good. I step to the side to allow Waylynn in and note that Memphis is carrying more than one box. That means my chances of not having to choke down peppers and cheese is good. I snag the bags of bread off the top of the boxes as he passes, then shut the door.
Waylynn moves toward the couch and desk as my brother sets the boxes on the tiny counter. When I try to open the lid, he pushes me to the side so he can wash his hands in the sink. “May I use your bathroom?” Waylynn asks while searching around.
“I’ll show you,” I offer, placing the bags of bread on the counter.
It takes all of three steps to make it down the short hall and to the door of Memphis’ room. The bed is not made, it never is, but other than that, it’s pretty tidy…no thanks to me. “Right through here.” I slap my hand on the wall to turn on the light switch. It’s warm in here. The window air conditioner never seems to make it into this room or the closet just beyond it.
“Thank you,” she says softly before turning to close the door. For just a second, I wonder what she’s thinking, if she’s contemplating what she’s doing here with us when she could be someplace much nicer, but I push those thoughts out of my head and head back to the food.
“You guys were gone forever.” I flip open one of the boxes and find a mushroom pizza. It’s not my first choice but definitely edible.
“I talked to her about Hilbrand. We got distracted.” Memphis sets three paper plates on the stove, because the counter is all used up.
“Sounds interesting.” If I weren’t worried about her overhearing us, I would ask what the distraction was, but the walls are like cardboard.
Memphis puts two slices of mushroom pizza on a plate, along with some bread, then sets it off to the side before switching boxes and helping himself to the pizza below. “Sweet! Pineapple,” I singsong, reaching for some myself.
“If she didn’t already think I was crazy, she might now.” He walks to the couch and sits down.
“What the hell, Memphis?” I keep my voice low and follow him.
“She needs to understand we’re serious. I can’t have any more of this running. I was ready to tie her to the bed if needed,” he comments blandly as if he doesn’t sound as unreasonable as he admitted to being.
Before I can make a joke about his kinks, Waylynn exits the bedroom. She’s not freaked out, so I don’t think she heard Memphis’ comment about tying her to the bed, but then again, maybe she did. She’s put up with all his shit so far.
“I have your plate,” Memphis says, nodding his head toward the small seat between us in the center of the couch. I watch Waylynn assess the spot, then bite her lip. It’s clear she’s not sure she should sit there, and I nearly get up so she will have more room, but in the next second, she steps forward, picks up her plate, and spins to sit down.
Her hip is against my leg. It’s such a small thing I might not have even taken the time to notice it if she were another girl, but with her, I do. I don’t know if it’s because I can appreciate the small stuff since I didn’t rush into sleeping with her, or if it’s just something about her that makes me more aware.
I lean in even closer and softly tell her, “Sit back, we won’t bite.” Her eyes dart over to peek in my direction before she scoots back the rest of the way. I lift my left arm to give us a little more room, but I don’t mind the tight fit.
The movie is still playing, but I wasn’t paying much attention in the first place, so I’m completely lost. Just when I take a bite of my second slice, the sound of a phone vibrating against something interrupts the quiet.
My head turns to the side when I realize it’s coming from Waylynn’s purse. “Want me to get that for you?” I question after swallowing the food.
“I’ve got it.” She uses my leg to push up, probably not even realizing it. I watch her ass as she crosses right in front of my face. I’m still watching when she bends over to grab her bag off the floor. I make a sound in the back of my throat that has her looking back while bent over. Yup, I’ll be thinking about that later.
“Are you okay?” she asks while rising with her phone clutched to her chest.
“I’m good.” Jesus, I have a fucking boner from her bending over in jeans.
Her phone starts ringing again.
“Are you going to answer that?” Memphis questions.
“It’s my mom,” she explains.
“Should we be quiet? Are you not allowed to talk to boys?” I tease.
“Would you please? I just don’t want her asking five hundred questions.” When Memphis and I both remain quiet, she adds, “I don’t want to be on the phone all night.”
“We’ll be quiet,” I assure her, looking over at Memphis to make sure he agrees. Sometimes, we forget people have to answer to their families.
“Hello,” Waylynn answers softly, then spins to face the other side of the room. Memphis and I exchange a look. Mine says,maybe her parents are strict. His says,they better not try to come between us.
“Sorry, I didn’t get to it in time.” She runs her hand down the side of her leg repeatedly like she’s nervous or something.
“Out with a friend. We’re having pizza.” Waylynn pauses, then replies much quieter. “Oswald, you remember.”
