Topsy Turvy Kinda Love
is, but I keep my question to myself. I don’t want him prying into my life, so I’ll lend him the same courtesy.A dresser and side table slip through the door next and are placed in Brooks’s room.
They disappear out the front door again, and I listen as their boots thump down the ten steps that lead up to my apartment. The door flies open again, bumping and cursing hit my ears, and I jump up to go hold open the door. The top of the ugliest recliner I’ve ever seen in my life comes through the door, and I feel my face scrunch with displeasure.
Who in the world would own something that ugly? Brown and orange plaid, like something from the seventies.
My eyes find Brooks as he peeks around the back of the recliner. He shrugs or tries to while holding the chair, shaking his head, and his dimples are on full display again. Dear Lord, those dimples are sexy as fuck. “Do you have any idea how ugly that thing is?”
Helping Wyatt set it down, a full belly chuckle erupts from his lips. “Yeah, that’s what makes it so great.”
“You keep telling yourself that, Brooks.”
The chair is left in the middle of the living room and my eyes find Brooks. “Oh, hell no. You’re not leaving that out here!”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but it won’t exactly fit in my room with my mattress and other stuff.”
“How big is your damn mattress?”
“It’s real big.”
“Ha! That’s what she said.” A laugh rips from Wyatt’s lips before they leave again.
Brooks and Wyatt return with the biggest box spring I have ever seen. It’s got to be a California king size bed, by the looks of it. Like, this thing is HUGE. Like a caveman or a six-person family all sleeping in the same bed, huge. Hell, a homeless family could all sleep on it under a bridge somewhere and still have room for a dog or two.
They leave and come back once again with a mattress just as impressive as the box springs. I strangle the laugh bubbling up my throat as they curse and mutter their complete disapproval of how awkwardly large it is. I hear several bangs against unsuspecting objects—I’m assuming his dresser and side table—as they try to fit it in my second room, followed by curses. He wasn’t joking.
Luckily, I have huge rooms in this apartment, so it’s not an issue at all. I wonder if there is more furniture coming, but when Wyatt shakes his hand and says goodbye, I’m stumped.
“Wait, that’s all?”
“Yep, had a couple more pieces, but I didn’t think they’d all fit here and I never really used them, so I donated them.”
Huh, interesting.
“I’m sure we could have made it work, Brooks.”
“Ehh, it’s okay. I’m not worried about it now.” He heads back into his room and shuffles the dresser, nightstand, box springs and mattress until he gets it in just the right place.
I decide that while Brooks is getting his room altogether, I’m going to pour myself a drink. 11:00 AM isn’t too early for wine, right? I determine that it’s not and continue on my way; liquid courage and all. I walk over, pick up the paintbrush again, and get back to working on that stubborn black line.
I’m finally getting it smoothed out when Brooks reappears from my—his- room, a flush covers his face, and even with a sheen line of sweat beading his forehead, he still looks fine as hell. I’m losing my damn mind.
The smile on his face is infectious, and I want to bask in it. I’ve seen him smile before, but this one is an ‘I just caught my first fish’ or a ‘kid in the candy store’ smile. “I always forget how big it is until I have to move it.”
I lose my shit. I laugh so loud I think it shocks him. “You’ve got to stop doing that, Brooks.”
“Doing what?”
“Giving me the chance to make that’s what she said jokes.”
He cocks his head. “What’s that mean?”
My jaw goes slack as I stare at him. “You mean you’ve never heard that phrase before… in your whole life?”
“Um, no. Should I have?”
“Oh… never mind…” I say, shrugging it off.
He holds out his arm stopping me from turning away. “No, hey, wait… I want to know what it means.”
“It’s a sex joke, Brooks. Basically, someone says “man, that thing is huge,” and someone responds with that’s what she said… ya know, like, damn his dick is massive. Like… that’s what she says…”
He shakes his head. “I don’t get it.”
Oh boy. Where did he come from? “You never heard of a thing called a sexual innuendo?”
He deadpans. “No.”
“Where’d you say you were from again?”
“Somewhere you wouldn’t be able to find on a map. Do people really talk about that stuff? Guys dick size and stuff?” He looks so serious when he asks, and I bite down the laughter that threatens to break free.
“Yeah, girls talk about stuff like that, Brooks.”
“Is it something you wonder about me?”
“Wait, you know how big you are?”
Embarrassment flames his cheeks. “Well, I mean, I’ve compared it to objects that I’ve found laying around my old place if that’s what you mean…”
“What kind of objects?” I say. Now, I’m dying to know. I mean, the dick print on those grey sweatpants was showing off a lot, but I’m just downright curious.
“Let’s see… my phone, my roommate’s girlfriend’s penis shaped toy…”
“You mean a dildo? Your roommate’s girl left her dildo just laying around for you to compare your dick too?” Laughter bursts from my lips, unable to keep it in any longer.
“Yes…Look I don’t know much about girls or…dildos. Where I come from, the girls were separated from the guys unless there were chaperones, or your parents had announced your pending nuptials.” The hurt look on his face makes me feel bad. Obviously, he isn’t comfortable talking about this sort of thing, but the fact that he is gives a new light