Topsy Turvy Kinda Love
in which we play roommates forever.No, Mia. Stop thinking like that. You’ve seen what happens when people fall under the influence of love. Love isn’t a thing, just a figment of a fairy tale lost long ago.
“We’re supposed to be shopping for you.”
“We are… I’m just asking you to paint me something. See, it’s still for me, but we’ll both get something out of it.”
My belly dips at the fact that he wants me to paint something just for him, using his favorite color. I’ve never painted anything for another person specifically, but how can I refuse that sweet request?
An image of him standing behind me, helping me paint in nothing but our underwear flashes through my head, and I mentally clear my throat. I tug at the collar of my shirt, suddenly feeling overheated like a woman in menopause. Is this shirt closing in on my throat? “Um… ah…sure.”
“Glad you’re saying yes.” The smile on his face makes my legs weak, and I take a deep breath to compose myself.
We move onto sheets, and he goes straight for the cheap ones. I’m shocked they legit have the right size for that massive ass bed. “Alright, I think these will work for me.”
“Brooks, you need a better sheet count than that. How are you supposed to talk a lady into staying with you overnight if you only have 150 thread count sheets?”
I watch him swallow a gulp and his face blushes slightly as he ponders my statement. I don’t really want to see him with another woman, but I have to be realistic about the fact that it may happen. “The sheets are for me… and I highly doubt I’ll ever have a lady spending the night with me. Other than you… on the other side of my wall.”
I roll my eyes and start to retort his comment, but then shut it. I’d like to spend the night with him. It’s obvious we’re both into each other. The sexual tension is killing me slowly. I can’t stop thinking about him.
Every time he’s in the shower, I wonder how the water looks skimming in and out of his ripped abs and muscular arms. I want to drool. I’ve seen him without a shirt on, and that’s enough to drive me crazy. Pretty soon, I’m going to have to issue a “full clothing at all times” ordinance at the apartment, or I’m going to jump him so hard.
I started watching him after he moved in. He’s a true gentleman. Brooks is one of those people that continually cares about everyone else first. The first to help someone out at the bar. The first to open the door for you. He doesn’t complain when he has to take a cold shower.
His eternal optimism about me is almost hard to deal with at times. He’s also forever the last to complain when life is too hard to handle. He sits for hours and watches me paint while I smoke a joint, but never once mentions it.
Little touches here and there. I can’t manage to figure him out. He seems like he’s never been on his own, but he’s lived in his own place for over a year.
I look away, fighting the urge to feel anything for him more than just roommates. I’ve seen what happens when two people fall in love. I’ve seen the worst love can do to people. I wouldn’t call it love. Love… it’s been misconstrued into a fairy tale for so long that people start to believe in it as much as they believe in Cinderella. But the truth is… fairy tales are for children because when real life sets in, you realize that it was all just a lie.
Macy, my best friend, used to talk about her parents and how her father worshipped the ground her mother walked on. That seemed like love.
Not the messed up household I grew up in. My father ruined the fantasy of love when he killed my mother’s spirit by cheating on her. The fighting between them was day in and day out. It seemed to always be the blame game. I wondered why one of them didn’t just leave. They didn’t seem to care what it did to me either. Do you think any child wants to grow up in a household like that? I sure as hell didn’t. Or maybe it was the guy my sophomore year of college that told me he loved me and then ripped my heart from my chest after taking my virginity.
Whenever I bring up Brooks’ past, he brushes it off. I get it. We all have our own skeletons to bear. He may be reluctant to share with me, and for now, I’ll allow it. Lord knows I don’t want him digging up my past either. Those graves should stay filled.
“Alright, well, we’ve successfully gotten everything on your list. Anything else you need? Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, condoms…”
“Nope, I think I’m good.”
“You sure?”
He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Yes… is there anything you need while we’re here? Tampons, body wash, deodorant…”
I give him the side-eye. “Why did you list things off?”
A smirk graces his face. “I thought we were comparing notes on what men and women use as toiletries?”
“Touché, my friend. Touché.” Brooks has sass. Who would have thought?
I bounce on my toes, trying to not feel so awkward about the silence that follows. “So, what now? More shopping? Or something else?”
His eyes met mine and his smile grew even wider. “What are my options for something else?”
Cheeky bastard.
“Food? I’m starving actually.”
His dark chocolate eyes sparkle. “Whatever you want, Mia.”
We step outside into the sweltering heat that is mid-August. My shirt is sticking to me, and I can feel a bead of sweat tracing its way down my back. Popping my cherry red sunglasses on, I look over at Brooks.
His eyes find mine briefly before he chuckles and slides a pair of bright green sunglasses over his. “Hey, you okay over there?” I can’t handle not staring