“You should really consider replacing your underwear. Holes in the crotch are super not cute.”
“You washed my underwear?” I growl at him, feeling my face heat because of course I left my most embarrassing pair of underwear at his house.
He shrugs, smirk permanently fixed to his face. I want to punch it off. Or kiss it off. One of those things for sure. “You left them on the bathroom floor with your pajamas and socks. If you don’t want me to wash your underwear, you shouldreally pick your dirty clothes up off the floor yourself like a big girl.”
I close my eyes, reminding myself that murder is wrong. “Why do I like you again?”
Tyler tosses me a wink. “Because I’m amazing and I’m about to make you a grilled cheese you’ll dream about for weeks. Also, because I just replenished my stash of your gross jelly beans and I stuck a Dr Pepper can in the freezer thirty-two minutes ago, so by the time you change it’ll be the perfect amount of frosty.”
I stand from the couch, pointing at him. “No more touching my underwear. It’s insane behavior Tyler.”
He shrugs. “No promises. It’s just clothes, Soph. And if you leave it here, and I wash it, it’s one less thing you have to wash. I know how you feel about laundry.”
How I feel about it is that I hate it with the fire of a thousand suns and I put it off for as long as possible, hence the underwear with the holes. I was about six days overdue for a date with my washing machine the day I wore those over here.
“Ugh, fine. I’m going to change. Try not to do any more crazy shit while I’m gone.”
“No promises!” he calls as he saunters into the kitchen.
I stand there for a second, pondering all the ways this night took a turn for the weird. I’m not used to my nights with Tyler being even a little bit weird, so the fact that this one is weirdness level ten is…disconcerting. For the past three years, I’ve managed to keep a lid on my feelings for him, and I’m now slightly terrified that the lid is loosening and there’s no way for me to screw it back on.
The sound of pans banging and the refrigerator door opening and closing filter out of the kitchen, so I take the opportunity to hightail it up the stairs as fast as my feet will carry me. Walking into Tyler’s guest room that doubles as my room for when I’m too tired to go home after movie night, I close the door behind me and flop facedown onto the bed. If I know Tyler—and I do—he is going to spend the next half hour perfecting our grilledcheese sandwiches, which is lucky for me because I need a distraction from the memory of Tyler’s cock under my ass and the embarrassment of him washing my holey underwear.
I make a mental note—my twelfth of the day—to throw away every single pair of underwear that is not immaculate, lest this happen again, and reach down to pull my phone out of my pocket. This night has been ten different kinds of weird, and I need reinforcements.
Smart Bitches
Me
SOS RED ALERT.
Sarah
At your service, bestie.
Emmy
Thank fucking god. This brief is killing me and I need a distraction.
Caitlin
No, you fucking don’t. Finish the brief, Em.
Emmy
Don’t get your panties in a twist, Cait. It’s barely even ten thirty and Molly doesn’t need the brief until nine tomorrow morning.
You know I do my best work under pressure.
Caitlin
Why do I like you again?
Emmy
Because I bring fun and delight and a certain what will she do next energy to your regimented and boring lawyer life.
Maya
