Page 10

Chapter Ten

Storm

After Gabe left for work this morning, I showered, changed, and went to visit Mom. It’s nice to be within walking distance of where she is. Being across the country was hard, and though it did wonders for my career and my sanity, I’m not sure I made the right decision when moving. Nothing I can do about it now, but at least I am here. There are still a lot of wrinkles to iron out when it comes to my roommate, but I have a feeling things will work out. He’s not so bad when I play nice. I’m just not sure I can play nice all the time. I’m not a happy-go-lucky guy all the time. I get grumpy and lazy, and will likely do a hundred things to send him off the deep end. But I can already see Gabriel is highly misunderstood, and once I get to know him a little better, we’ll live together splendidly.

I’ve done my laundry a million times, despite what I made him think, but I do it how I want. I knew that wouldn’t be good enough for him, so I let him show me. For the first time since I met him, I saw joy on his face. He liked showing me how to do something. Maybe the guy should have been a teacher. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle him talking to me that way all the time—he talked to me like a toddler—but maybe I can do it enough to keep him off my back. Or maybe I’ll learn to deal with it.

The next couple of months will have a lot of ups and downs while we see if living together for the foreseeable future will be an option. I can already tell it will take a lot of change on my part. I’m not so sure Gabe is willing to change his ways though. Is that something I can handle for… well, until I decide I want to move out? I guess we will find out. So far, so good. But I can see how him being anal about everything would put people off. Me included. I’m not a freaking saint, I just happen to have more patience than most people.

On my walk back to the house, I go up and down a few blocks, wanting to check out the neighborhood. It’s real nice. Nothing like where I grew up, or lived in Boston. Not that my childhood home was in the slums, but our neighborhood wasn’t the best. Not the kind of place you walk around at night alone. You had to keep your doors locked all the time. Windows and cars, too. Didn’t stop people from smashing your windows if they wanted in bad enough, though.

Now, I pass houses with pristine front yards, barking dogs with shiny fur, and houses with flower boxes in the windows. There are new and fancy cars in driveways and treehouses in the backyards.

When I make it back to Gabe’s, I stop when I see how much it sticks out from all the others. It needs work. Yard work could be hit or miss with Gabriel. It’s either something he does on a schedule or something he knows nothing about. By the looks of the yard, I’d guess it’s the latter, but this could be due to his stress level lately. Maybe he doesn’t have the energy to do it. I understand that completely.

Instead of going inside, I go up the driveway, past the garage, and into the backyard where there is a small shed. It’s not locked, so I open the doors. Bingo. The lawnmower isn’t brand new, but it isn’t the oldest model. It’s a push, not a sit-down, and that’s fine with me. It’s been a while since I went to the gym, so I’ll use this as my work out. The yard isn’t huge, anyway.

I pull it out of the shed and look it over, checking for gas and that everything looks in working order. Can’t be sure the last time it was used. I start her up, and it takes a few tugs of the line, but it eventually gets going. I mow the backyard, then move to the front to get that done next. I’m careful around the bushes that are in need of trimming; not sure how much Gabe cares about those. I’m no Edward Scissorhands, but I know my way around some hedge-clippers.

When I’m done with the grass, I put the mower back and grab the weed-whacker to get started with that. Takes a while, but I’m sweating and my muscles are burning, so I don’t mind. It’s a mix of whacking the weeds and pulling them out because some are too thick, but it all gets done. I find some lawn bags in the shed and pick up the bigger weeds to toss in.

The hedge-clippers kind of suck, so I’ll have to get a new set, but they work well enough for now. All the trimmings get put into the lawn bags, and by the time I’m done, there are four full bags along the sidewalk for pickup. I fix up the potted plants, and though they all look dead, I give them water to see if they’ll come back to life or not. I don’t know much about gardening, just know how to clean up a yard, but I’ll try my best to revive them. I’ve got nothing else to do during the day. I can only make so much content before my dick starts to hurt. Gardening doesn’t sound like the worst thing to be doing with my time, as long as I keep reminding myself it doesn’t make me a grandma.

I’m sweating, dirty, and covered in grass clippings, so I head inside to wash up. Once I’m in the bathroom upstairs, I shed my clothes, leaving them all in a pile near my sneakers and get in. The water isn’t quite hot yet, but it’s fine because my skin is flushed, so the cool water is refreshing. The drain clogs with grass, and I toss the chunk into the trash so I can get clean without the tub filling up. The water is losing its heat by the time I get out, but thankfully, Gabe showers in the morning. At least, he did today. Though, it’s possible he showers multiple times a day. Who knows? Maybe he only showered this morning because he came in his pants, I don’t fucking know.

I have been wondering about that though. Did he do it on purpose or was it in his sleep? Was it because he caught me coming yesterday? That’s kind of hot, if so. I don’t think he’s into guys. He mentioned having a fiancée, who is definitely a female. Maybe he’s curious? Or maybe it has nothing to do with me at all. Wishful thinking. It’s been a while since I got laid. Fucking my roommate isn’t a good idea. Not sure the guy is even into sex. Sex is messy. Seems like something he’d avoid. Especially after he freaked out over what he saw. It wasn’t just about catching me, it was actually about what I was doing. He kept muttering about how messy it was, and how he doesn’t do it because it’s messy… does he seriously not jerk off? There’s no fucking way… right?

Why am I thinking about this? Why do I care what he does?

I shut the water off and get out, wrapping a towel around my waist. I open the door; the steam billowing out, and I’m startled by someone shouting.

“—happened in here? Why are there stains all over the floor? Why are there chunks of grass on the steps?”

Well, Gabe’s home.

“I cut the grass,” I shout down the stairs so he can hear me. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

I walk into my room, trying not to let his unappreciation bother me, but seriously? I’m going to clean it up, obviously. Just give me a damn minute to get settled.

“And you had to make such a mess while you did it? This isn’t what I need to come home to. Work was awful, and now I come home to my house destroyed?”

I stop in my doorway, turning to him, since he’s now at the top of the stairs.

“Destroyed? Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?”

His eyes widen. “I am not dramatic.”

“That isn’t what I said. I asked if you thought your reaction was dramatic.”

“Same thing.”

“No, not really.”

He fumes, face turning red. “You need to leave,” he grits out.

I hold his gaze, waiting just long enough to build anticipation. “No, I don’t.”

I close the door and drop my towel before pulling open my drawer for some briefs.

My bedroom door is thrown open.

“You have to—”

I turn to face Gabe, giving him a full frontal. His jaw drops and he sucks in a sharp breath. Rolling my lips between my teeth so I can hide my smirk, I look him dead in the eyes.

“I have to, what?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

My dick is hard. Has been since the shower, and he sees all of it now. Every thick inch. And I know he does because he’s staring right at it, his jaw twitching like he wants to say something but can’t. Or maybe he’s thinking about putting it in his mouth? How hot would that be?

Fuck, imagine if he dropped to his knees right now and sucked me off? Christ, that’d be a dream.

“Gabe? Hello?” I snap my fingers, getting his attention. His gaze darts up to me for just a second before he turns and barrels toward his bedroom.

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

I finish getting dressed, then I go clean up my mess—like I was going to do in the first place. Laundry gets done first, and that’s after I go outside to shake out all the loose grass so it doesn’t get caught in the washer. See, I’m being thoughtful. I’m careful where I step, not wanting to track the grass further around the house. Once the laundry is going, I dig around the closet for the broom to sweep up everything in the house, and even the porch, so more doesn’t get brought inside. Then I go as far as mopping the floors because I have a feeling sweeping won’t be good enough for him. I almost forget to clean the shower, but remember that last minute. By the time I’m done with all that, the washer is done since I put it on an express cycle. I toss the stuff into the dryer before going upstairs to Gabe’s room, where he’s still hiding out. I knock on the door and wait for him to open it. He doesn’t. I knock again.

“Gabe, can we talk?”

“It’s Gabriel!” he calls from inside his room.

“Gab riel ,” I grit out. “Can we talk?”

“Do you have clothes on?” he shouts back.

I smirk, wanting to tell him no just to see how he would react. Or better yet, get naked and then tell him yes. He is fun to mess with. I should probably remember I don’t have a lock on my door and if I mess with him enough, he may try to kill me in my sleep.

“Yes, I have clothes on.”

I swear I feel him standing on the other side of the door for a few moments before he pulls it open.

“What do you want to talk about?” he asks simply, as if he isn’t all freaked out about what happened.

“I cleaned all the grass up.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Swear I did. Come check if you want.”

I move aside, gesturing toward the stairs. With his eyes still on me, he walks out of his room slowly. He inspects everything; checking the small area out here before going into the bathroom, closing the door halfway once he’s inside to look behind it. He pulls the shower curtain aside to glimpse inside, then comes back out and goes downstairs. Gabe looks everywhere, and when he’s satisfied, he comes back upstairs and looks me in the eyes.

“Thank you,” he says.

Damn, and I thought he would have something more to say.

“See, I’m not so bad.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

My smile falls. Rude.

“I did plan on cleaning that up, by the way. I just needed to shower first, and I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

He nods curtly. “I should apologize for—”

“Yelling at me? It’s fine.”

“No, I am not sorry for that. I am sorry for storming into your room. That’s your space, and I shouldn’t have done that.”

I grin, noting he isn’t meeting my eyes now. I don’t care that he burst into my room. I’m not the kind of person who needs much privacy, not in this sense, and I enjoy being watched. Of course he doesn’t know that; probably shouldn’t know that either.

“Just remember that if it happens again, I’ll probably be naked.”

His jaw tenses, but he nods. “I suppose I can’t convince you to keep your clothes on in there?”

“Not a chance,” I say on a laugh.

“Fine. But I don’t like it.”

I chuckle, shaking my head.

Yeah, I think living here is going to be just fine.