They were put straight back into the fridge when she pulled out a bag of hotdog buns that had so much mold on them that we could’ve cured strep throat easily just by sniffing the bag.
Picking up my phone, I ordered a pizza to be delivered and then went back to where she was now laughing her ass off in the living room.
“I’m so sorry,” she choked out, wiping under her eyes. “I keep seeing your face with the food on the fork. And when you touched your lip…” she laughed so hard that she snorted. “That might’ve been the worst I’ve ever made.”
Throwing an arm around her shoulders, I pulled her into my side. “Thank the lords of food that places deliver.”
Whatever she was going to say was cut off by a sharp pain on my shin, followed by the blur of the assailant running across the floor. “You little evil bastard.”
Initially, I was going to give Doyle—who was chewing a bone in his bed that was the size of my femur—my pizza crusts to get him to like me. Now I was giving them to him because the cat was an asshole, and I wanted him to know it.
This was the day from hell. Then again, I might have come out of it with diaper rash and a flesh wound, but at least I wasn’t sleeping in a sewage-scented apartment or dying in hospital from her cooking.
It’s the little things…
Three days later…
Sayings like what I’d said only days ago and ‘if it ain’t broken, don’t fix it’ were responsible for my current predicament.
Why? My little thing wasn’t little anymore. In fact, I swear the penis I knew well had mutated since we’d moved in here.
Also, Bexley saying about our sleeping arrangements, “As they say, if it ain’t broken, don’t fix it,” was the reason for the above problem.
I’d offered to buy an inflatable bed on my way home the next day, but she said it was fine and just like the campouts we had when we were kids.
Maybe it was my memory, but I was fairly sure we never slept in the same sleeping bag back then. I also never woke up pressing my morning glory into her ass. I also don’t remember waking up in the morning in a fix like that. Furthermore, I don’t remember her wrapping herself around me during the night like she does now.
I loved it and hated it at the same time.
And I was at work in the shittiest mood I could also remember being in. Ever.
“It’s not hard, is it?” Alex asked, making me wince.
“No, but it’s quite stiff,” Naomi replied.
“What about if you jerk it or give it a shake?” Mark suggested about whatever it was they were discussing, which wasn’t related to my predicament but resonated with me strongly.
Throwing my half-eaten apple in the trash, I pushed away from my desk to go anywhere but where they were when DB called out, “Yo, Richards. How’s the new living arrangements going?”
Not turning around, I walked over to the room I’d been looking at paperwork in when he’d woken me up and snapped, “Drop dead.”
There was some snickering from the group of assholes, and Mark chuckled, “Well, then.”
Just as the door was closing, though, DB shouted, “No giving it a jerk or shake in there, man. We all have to use that room at some point.”
I was surrounded by the world’s worst comedians.
And I also knew doing that wasn’t a cure for my issue. Trust me, I’d tried.
Chapter Ten
Bexley
“So, you’ve been here for four days,” Tamsin, Garrett’s girlfriend, pointed out just before she bit into her sandwich. “How’s it going?”
“I love my job,” I replied, holding out a bag with carrots and celery in it.
“Have those two been mixed in that bag the whole time?” she asked, staring at it like I was holding out a rattlesnake.
Looking into it to see if there was a bug or something in there—which would make both items inedible—I nodded. “Well, ever since they were cut up this morning. Why? What do you see?”
Shuddering, she held a hand up. “No thanks. I have personal issues with celery. It tastes like hell, and those stringy bits are the Devil’s pubic hairs.”
“Gross. I only took some because Logan kept saying it’s good for me, and I like carrots when they’re in little pieces.” Obviously. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten celery.”
“Oh, you’d remember.” The barfing noises she added were unnecessary, seeing as how I now had no intentions of ever eating the Devil’s pubic hairs, but it also got our table glares from the other teachers in the teacher’s lounge.
Picking up my sandwich, I unwrapped it and peeled back the top layer to make sure none had gotten into it. Thankfully, no, it hadn’t.
“How’s living with Logan going?” she asked after I’d taken a bite.
Chewing slowly, I thought about how best to answer the question. Ever since I’d started work, Tamsin and Tabby had been good to me. They were supportive, helpful, hilarious, and made me feel comfortable from the moment I’d pulled up on my first morning. I could be honest, couldn’t I?
“Hey, girls,” Tabby greeted, dropping down into the seat beside mine. “How’s it hanging?”
Tamsin pointed at me. “I was just asking Bexley how things were going living with Logan.”
Tabby looked at me expectantly, so I caved. “It’s going okay, and he’s great when it comes to helping out with the work I’m doing on the house, but…” I trailed off.
Both women leaned in closer to me. Looking around us, Tabby whispered, “But? Girl, don’t keep us hanging.”
“But he’s in a perpetually bad mood.” There, that wasn’t worded badly, was it?
Tabby shocked me by nodding. “Yup,
