Topsy Turvy Kinda Love
of the flings I’ve had. My type is much more tattoos, drunk sex, and getting high. Sneaking out of bed before the other person wakes up in the morning. Not knowing the name of the person you slept with the night before. I’ve been drooling over Brooks since he stepped into Topsy Turvy a year ago. The shit thing is that I have no idea where we stand. We set boundaries and rules but haven’t actually talked about what happens if something goes down between us. What happens if we rock this boat, get a little freaky between the sheets?My nether regions are begging me to turn this into more than just a roommate’s thing. No mercy full on begging. To va-va-voom him. I’ve given up the facade of turning away when he catches me looking. Yep, I’m not even trying to keep my eye ogling to a minimum. Every morning he glides past me, bare chested. Arm muscles, abs, and pecs on full display for my wandering eyes.
Man candy Monday has turned into an everyday occurrence. And, somehow, my mouth always speaks before my brain can function enough to tell me no. Nope, my lips open and just flap unconsciously about how sexy he is. I used to tell him to buy a camera and now it’s me questioning it. He just waggles his eyebrows and walks away. It’s really unfair how attractive his face is… It should have zits or something…
I want to know who’s playing a joke on me. Guys like Brooks just don’t exist in the real world, and if they do, I’ve never met one. Maybe he’s really an invisible friend and if that’s the case I should be really nervous about the state of my mind.
The broad arrows that point to the happy trail that lines his stomach and dips below his pants makes my mouth water and me light-headed.
Damn, I’m in so much trouble with this one. Like lock me up now because I’m yelling timber, it’s going down.
Brooks seems to be just as into me as I am into him, yet I wonder why he never seems to make a move. I haven’t exactly told him no to other things happening, but for some reason, when things get too intense, he always backs away first or breaks the silence. He’s told me he doesn’t have much experience with women, but that can’t be right because look at him.
Who wouldn’t want to ride him like a stallion? Or maybe, he’s a virgin and needs a little nudge with the suggestions.
Avoiding the lingering stares, he caresses my body with is very… hard. Yeah, there’s no hiding the effect I have on him. I secretly high five myself every time I see him adjust himself. He’s not a man of many words, but his actions tell all. Knowing he shares in these feelings makes me want to know why he holds back from me so much. Does he turn into a caveman? I bet he goes all Dom.
God, why does that make me want it even more?
I’m trying to focus on being unfazed by him and failing miserably. Brooks is calm and collected with this confidence that I’ve never seen before. Me? I’m a blubbering mess of an individual. It’s funny how our personalities change over time.
I used to think of myself as this badass, tattooed chick who smokes weed and paints on the side. Now, I find myself more like I have a crush and can’t hide my fangirling over him type. Which is a problem in itself. I’ve never let a man affect me this much. Maybe eventually, I’ll drive him bonkers and he’ll realize that moving on is better than sticking around with the basket case that is currently me.
But I can’t think about that right now while we’re strolling through Suzie’s Discount Mart. We should have gone a week ago, but time flies when you’re having fun.
It’s my favorite store in this town—filled with odds and ends. Everything from painting supplies and crafts to home goods. All the things any college student would forget at home and have to buy. It’s my happy place. Brooks walks quietly beside me as I ooh and aah over tiny things along the way. A display of new oil paints stops me in my tracks. I never purchase anything other than black, but I like to look anyhow. Maybe one day, another color will speak to my soul, requesting to spice up my life just a tad.
“What color would you pick?” I ask, turning to Brooks.
He gives me a weird face. “I don’t paint.”
“I know. Just go with me here. If you were to pick any color off the rack, what would it be?”
“Blue.”
I lift my brow. “Why blue?” I’m not really surprised by this color choice, but I’m curious why he picked it out of the multiple color options available. The few tidbits of information I’ve gleaned from him include a talent for making drinks, being extremely tidy around the apartment, a lover of meatloaf, and always picking something I’m never expecting.
He keeps me guessing. I don’t know much about him, but the more time I spend with him, the more I want to know.
“Blue exhibits confidence, integrity, trust, and reliability. Things that I want you to see in me as we live together. Plus, it’s my favorite color, and since it’s a part of your hair color, I’m guessing it means something to you as well.”
SWOON.
I bite my lip, not entirely sure how to respond to that comment. I’ve never had someone be this nice to me without an end game.
“Would you like me to buy it for you?” he asks, his eyebrows lifted in a question. “I’m going to need a new painting to hang up in my room and nothing I’ve seen so far compares to what I’ve seen on your walls at home.”
The way he says home makes me wish it were true. A real home. Not just this one