He took a big bite of ice cream. I had not realized how giant his mouth was until that moment. There had to be a hippopotamus in his family tree, but it was rather endearing to watch him eat his feelings. It made him more human—more relatable. Mr. Perfect had a flaw.
"It's okay. We'll tell everyone you're sick or something. You only have a couple weeks to live."
His eyes narrowed at me.
"Okay, you don't look very sick. Maybe we could claim early onset dementia? You could pretend to be forgetful all the time. How about that?"
"What a great idea!" He stabbed the ice cream with the spoon. "No. How about this? How about we do what we should have done a couple days ago and get out of here? Never come back. And we'll learn how to be commuters."
"Ugh. That sounds so boring to spend half my time in the car. You realize literally everywhere else is at least an hour away?"
"An hour isn't very long."
"Whatever happened to your ‘if we squat for ten years, we are the legal owners’ idea. Besides, it's like you said, it's not really breaking and entering if we used a key."
He glared at me, "No, that is not what I said. You said it wasn't breaking and entering."
"Look, you're worried about it, but you're already adding value to this property. I saw you pull a weed out of the yard this morning. You're providing a service in exchange for rent, just like you said."
He shook his head. "I'm delusional. Why did I think squatting would be doable?"
"I have permission!"
Bane's shoulders relaxed. "You're right. Yes. You're right."
He continued muttering as he took another big bite of ice cream. I walked over and sat down on the arm of the recliner next to him. He stiffened slightly but continued eating the ice cream. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders in what I hoped was a comforting gesture, like I would with one of my kids. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be the best HOA president this neighborhood has ever had. You're going to kill it. I mean, I can't even blame them for electing you. You'd be my top pick as well."
He smiled weakly. "I bet it's the first time they've elected a homeless man to run the HOA."
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh, but I couldn't help it. I started shaking.
"Come on now. It was your idea to stay here. I think it's time you had an idea that got us out of trouble rather than into it, don't you think?" He shook his head as he pointed his spoon at me.
"Well, you were the one who decided we were married in front of blabbermouth Carol."
"That was purely self-preservation. That woman scares me." He scraped the bottom of the bowl with his spoon.
I moved my arm from around his shoulders and rested it on the back of the chair, realizing how awkwardly close we were. I’d only meant to support and comfort him, not burst his personal space bubble. "How are you not morbidly obese with how much ice cream you eat?"
He shrugged. "I guess I have a happy metabolism."
"You mean a fast metabolism?"
He shook his head. "I meant happy. It's happy to see lots of ice cream."
I chuckled as I stood to move to the couch. It was safe to say he was calming down now that he was joking around. Despite his reservations, I thought he’d make a great HOA president. He'd be particular about so many things that the rest of us normal people wouldn't notice.
"Well, Mr. HOA. What are you going to do first?"
He pointed at the stack of papers on the counter. "Read through that ridiculous HOA manual. Apparently, it has all the rules in there. Jan was pretty quick to hand it over. I'm scared to think about what I've gotten myself into—not to mention what happens when they find out we don't own this house."
"Don't be such a downer. This is the perfect thing to lend credibility to us being here. Don't you see?"
He stood up, twisted his torso so he could pop his back, then carried the ice cream bowl back into the kitchen. "You know, it might give me the opportunity to suggest building on that empty acreage. I think it’s technically owned by the HOA. There's such a housing shortage in town, there's no doubt those lots would be snatched up in a hot minute."
"And you happen to know a real estate agent..."
He smiled. "Exactly. Now, what's our exit strategy out of this place?"
I glanced at the front door, but I figured that wasn't exactly what he meant. "Why do we need an exit strategy?"
"Because I don't want to have to move all the way across the country and start a new real estate office. I'm finally getting it established here. If they find out that I'm trespassing and living in someone else’s house, then it will ruin my reputation."
"It might. But it sure sounds like you're wasting a lot of time worrying about something that probably won't ever happen. Maybe you should try enjoying your time here. It's a nice house. It's a nice neighborhood. The back yard is phenomenal. Everyone loves you here, and your roommate isn't half bad either."
"Well, as long as she remembers to switch the laundry that is."
I smiled. "All right. She's a bit of a slob. I'll give you that."
"A bit?" he asked.
"Yes! A bit, but I'm not the worst. You should have seen my friend, Riley. We were roommates in college. She made me look like a clean freak." I followed him into the kitchen and watched him wash the ice cream bowl.
"Where did you go to college?" He asked as he pulled out a dish towel to dry the bowl.
"OSU. Human sciences major."
"Am I surprised?"
"I don't know—are you?"
He smiled. "No."
"Where did you go, Mr. HOA?"
He smiled. "I
