Topsy Turvy Kinda Love
shower.” His eyes roam my face, and I see a hint of concern before that brilliant smile comes back. Only it isn’t as big this time. He knows something’s wrong, but I also know he’d never force me to talk about it. Brooks is a good man like that.“You need some help getting clean?”
“Pretty sure you’re the reason I’m here in the first place… because I was so very dirty last night.” I wink at him and he groans.
“God, you’re so beautiful, and last night was… hot. When can we have a repeat? I think I could learn a few more things…”
“Well, luckily, there are still some things left on that sex bucket list of yours…”
He waggles his eyebrows at me. “Uh huh.” One look down confirms that he’s ready for another round right here and now. The front of his pants are tented. Following the path, my eyes lead to, he chuckles and shrugs.
I raise my hand up and wave it.
He smirks that devilish charm my way. “What are you doing?”
“Raising the white flag. I surrender. My lady bits need some recovery time before we do any of that again. I think you almost split my V with your monster D last night.”
He winks, that dimpled grin crossing his face. “You loved it.”
I fake pout. “Did not.”
“Did so.”
“Good Lord, Brooks, are you five?”
“Nope, just trying to get a laugh out of you. It worked. Victory is mine! Whenever you’re done here, I’ll have breakfast ready for you.”
My stomach growls at the suggestion of food. “Ugh. You’re going to make me fat with all this cooking.”
“Good thing we have our exercise plan all mapped out then, right?” He winks and I can’t help but shake my head. This guy.
“Right,” I say dryly.
“Okay, then. I’ll go make food. Don’t take too long or I’ll have to come in and do another hand check. Maybe offer to help with your lady bits.” My words coming back at me from his lips have me laughing again. How does he always, always know what to say?
Brooks leaves me in peace to finish showering. I do so quickly, not wanting to miss out on breakfast. I’m becoming a dependent little food whore on his offerings. I’ve never had someone that made food for me, but I can’t say I don’t like it. As I put on black leggings and an oversized gray sweater, the smell of bacon and eggs assaults my nostrils. My mouth waters at the anticipation of a homemade breakfast.
I finish putting my hair into a messy bun and head out to the kitchen. Sitting down at the table, I think about how real it feels. Eating at the table with another person instead of just shoving a Pop-Tart down my face while I paint and smoke. It’s nice. The closeness. The feel of normalcy. Although, I’m not sure I’ve ever been normal…
Plates are already set out on the table along with silverware. Brooks brings over the steaming hot skillet and I can’t help but ogle every bit of him. He hasn’t put a shirt on, and I watch his muscles as they bunch with each movement. My eyes trail further down, stopping at the Adonis belt and dragging down that very happy path to down under. “I’ve got bacon or sausage first?”
“Mmm… bacon. God’s gift to people. I swear I could eat bacon for the rest of my life and die a happy lady.” I bite into it. The crunch is that level of perfection you get when you fry bacon precisely how it’s meant to be because non-crispy bacon is the worst. I moan, my eyes rolling back into my head.
“Mia,” he warns.
“Yes, Brooksy?”
“Don’t make those noises unless you want to deal with the consequences.”
“Can you please explain all the consequences to me now? They sound like fun.” Elbows on the table, I put my chin on my hands and flutter my eyelashes like a girly girl. He shakes his head, places one sausage and three pieces of bacon on his plate and goes back to the kitchen.
He peeks out from the kitchen with that killer world stopping smile that brings me to my knees. “How do you prefer your eggs?”
“Um… I’m partial to sunny side up, but I won’t complain over scrambled either. I’m pretty easy that way.”
He winks with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for easy at all.”
“Don’t make me murder you before I get my tea.”
“Oh, tea, right. The kettle isn’t done yet, but it’s on the stove.”
“Thanks, Brooks. Really, I mean it.” It’s easier to say things like that when he isn’t actually in the same room as me.
He speaks to me from the kitchen as he continues cooking, “Well, I did need some extra tutoring last night, so it’s the least I could do. Feeding you.” I hear the fridge open, what I assume to be eggs being whisked, and then the sizzle of the hot pan as they’re added to it. We are being so domestic, so couple goals…
“Do you work today?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going so I don’t get in my own head.
“Nope, off today and tomorrow. Same as you.”
“Any plans?”
“Netflix and chilling, I think that’s what the kids call it these days.”
“You know what that means, right?”
“Yeah, something to do with sex, but I was thinking about actually binging something fun. Maybe just hanging out with you. I feel like we know nothing about each other.”
“Alright, Brooks. That sounds nice.” I won’t mention that my heart’s pounding so hard trying to escape my chest at the mere thought of letting him into my life and explaining just a tiny bit more of my past.
I’m losing feeling in my fingers and toes over coming clean. Spilling my life story seems like a mountain I’m not willing to climb yet, but I want to give it a try though. We are roommates, after all. Friends talk and share things. Maybe I can too. Maybe.
He finally finishes cooking and brings the