Chapter 2
Two
Logan
A literal drama queen, I swear. He pushes all his dumb house rules on me constantly, and half the time, I swear that it’s just to drive me nuts. He even typed them up and gave me an actual list of rules he expects me to follow just because he says so. I don’t think Liam, Cade, or Nic got a copy.
And he’s so… mean to me. He ignores like ninety percent of my texts, looks at me like I just crawled my way out of a pile of shit anytime I touch him, and he’s never once bitten me.
I know that last one is a stupid thing to be so salty about, but I’m pretty sure it’s intentional at this point.
If he truly hated me, it’d be a lot easier to deal with, but I know he doesn’t. He may act like he’s too good to hang out with me during the day, but we do hang out nearly every night. And it’s nice. He’s not at all mean when it’s just the two of us. He’s even kind of sweet.
Well, okay, he is a little unfriendly when it’s just us, but that’s only because he’s programmed that way. It has nothing to do with him hating me as much as he pretends to. I think.
“Logan?”
Shit.
“Hey.” I turn around to face Liz. Baby was right. My nips could cut glass right now, and I would rather be inside, but I would also rather she leave. Baby would still be here if she had left sooner.
“I’m gonna head out.”
“Oh, okay.” It’s a little awkward now—another thing Baby was right about—but she was planning on leaving after her shower anyway, so I’m not sure why. It’s kind of always like this. Not with her specifically, but the post-casual sex vibes are definitely my least favorite part of the whole exchange.
It’s my fault. Coming makes me wanna cuddle. Talk. Touch. That part is almost better than the main event—as long as the girl lets me get away with it. Not everyone is down to be pampered and coddled by a random hookup.
“I can give you a ride home.”
“That’s okay.” She smiles like something is funny, but I’m still too annoyed after my favorite roommate’s tantrum to understand why. “I drove here.”
“Oh. Right.” It feels like I should say something else, but I can’t think of anything other than see you later. That’s probably too rude to say now.
“That guy…”
I wait, not exactly helping lighten the mood as I stare at her and wait for her to say something about Baby that’s gonna bother me.
“You guys have a thing?”
“No.” I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about it—briefly—but I’m straight. His asscheeks looking all squeezable and shit messes with my head a bit, but he’s a boy. It gets a little difficult to remember when he’s sporting the word juicy on his butt, but… wait. What was she saying?
Right. “No.” But I did call him something that might signal an alarm to some, so I get the confusion. “It’s just his name.”
“His name is Baby?” she asks like she doesn’t believe me, which I get.
I shrug. It’s definitely not, but it’s what I know him as. He actually won’t tell me—or anyone—his real name. I’ve tried to check the mail, sneak a peek at his driver’s license, and I’ve asked around. It’s been almost a year, and I still have no clue. Not even his mom—either of them—will tell me.
“So, I’m not caught in the middle of some… gay…”
I cock a brow and wait for her to spit it out. Liz is a nice girl, but if she has a problem with me having a gay roommate, then I certainly have no problem never seeing her again.
“You don’t like…”
It’s taking a genuine effort not to get mad at her.
I like Liz. I work with her brother, and she usually drops him off at the office, so I see her fairly often.
She’s always nice, flirty. She came on to me, and I like it when someone takes charge like that.
It makes it that much more fun to coax them into submission in bed.
She’s a cool girl. I was all for this get-together, and I don’t really understand why I’m so irritated by her presence now. Feels a little scummy that I am. And it’s out of character, too. I’m typically nicer.
It’s Baby’s fault. He was grumpy, and dealing with a pissed Baby can be frustrating.
“He’s my roommate. I told you I had a few of those, right?
” It’s the only way I could afford to live in an area like this.
I was shocked at the price when I found Baby’s listing looking for roommates.
I could probably afford my own place now, but then I wouldn’t be able to send so much money back home.
And I don’t mind having roomies—even with as uptight and spicy as Baby can be.
I’d miss him if I moved out—and if I did, he’d probably never speak to me again.
Truthfully, I’d miss his bratty ass a lot. I’d kinda miss his actual ass too.
“Yeah, you did. Sorry. It just seemed like he was upset.”
“Oh, he was.” I laugh, trying to soften the mood. “He always is.” Almost always. Baby can be sugary sweet when he wants to be—as long as nobody else is around to witness it.
Waiting for her to drive off while shirtless and in the cold makes me wish I’d taken Baby’s no-nudity rule more seriously.
But it’s not long before she’s waving at me and pulling out of the parking lot, and I’m free to go back inside—after I clean up the mess of spaghetti on the porch.
Seeing those noodles has me bothered that he left like that all over again.
If he’d messaged me back more often, then I would have known he was coming home today. Liz wouldn’t have been here. It’s one of the many things I don’t fully understand about our dynamic, but I do keep those sorts of things separate from Baby.
It’s not like I haven’t had to listen to Cade and his stepbrother fuck the past couple of months.
It’s none of my business what they do, but they make it known that shit is going down in that back room pretty regularly.
And based on the noises Cade makes… it doesn’t matter.
Either way, I’ve heard plenty. They get to have sex in the apartment. I should be able to as well.
But Baby—actually, I don’t want to think about what Baby does in bed. Or with whom. And thankfully, I’ve never had to witness or hear any of that.
I try not to think about it ever. Kinda bugs me even thinking about thinking about it, really.
And just where the fuck did he go?
∞∞∞
“Hey.”
“Geezus!” Baby jolts hard enough to hit the door he just closed, and the theatrics of it have me quietly laughing. “Oh my fuck, Logan—what’s wrong with you?”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You’re sitting in the dark like a serial killer, you freak.
What are you doing?” He flips the light switch, a brutal assault to my eyes that has me covering my face before I can even get a good look at him.
I actually fell asleep on the couch after a quick shower.
I didn’t expect him to be gone for so long, but it’s been hours, and he’s only just now showing up.
“You’re not supposed to sleep on the couch. ” Another one of his rules.
“I was waiting for you.” I take a peek at him and catch it when a faint blush sweeps across his cheeks. It’s oddly endearing when someone with so much attitude blushes. It happens a lot more than he’d like.
Baby’s a scrawny guy. He’s not that short—shorter than me for sure—but he’s skinny enough that he looks taller than he really is.
Until you get close to him, and suddenly you’re looking down at a baby-faced boy named Baby.
He’s got honey colored hair that he refuses to admit is dirty blond, and it always looks so soft.
It’s silky enough to complain about apparently, because he does all the time.
He buys a lot of texturizing spray, and before him, I didn’t even know that was a thing.
But there’s none in his hair right now. I can tell by the way he’s got a few strands slipping over his browline.
I know it drives him nuts, and he confirms it when he angrily swipes to push it off his forehead.
“No, you weren’t.” He does that a lot. Doubts my intentions, takes the things I mean as jokes. He’s usually got it wrong though.
“I was.” I sit up to arch my back, leaning my head over the back of the couch to shake off the nap-induced stiffness. I straighten back up and am reminded that I’m still in breach of his no-nudity rule when I catch him glaring at my abs.
“Well… that’s dumb.”
“Why?” I yawn as I settle back into the couch.
If he were anyone else, I’d probably be a little thrown off by the tone in his words.
But Baby’s just like that. “I’ve basically been living alone while everyone disappeared for the holidays.
” I wish I could have visited my family, but the extra pay wasn’t something I wanted to pass up.
I’m slowly digging us out of the hole my dad left us in, and the more I work, the faster that happens.
“And then you come back and leave after exactly two seconds. I’m lonely. And I missed you.”
He snorts, being a little snobby with it. “Yeah, you definitely looked lonely earlier. Poor you.” He gives me an exaggerated frown as he removes his sweater, revealing a blue tank top, and it’s all I can focus on.
“You weren’t wearing that when you left.”
“What?”
“The—” I motion at the piece of clothing and ignore his confusion. “You had on a black shirt, this one is blue.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy, and now that I’m hearing it out loud, I sort of get it. “So?”
I open my mouth to ask him where he was, but quickly change my mind. I don’t want to know. There’s not much I could do with that information anyway. And I want to change the subject, move it to something other than Liz so he stops being mad at me.
“Want to watch a movie?” That’s pretty much all we do when we hang out. Watch movies, smoke, and snack. And talk. I think the weed helps him tolerate me. It’s almost routine at this point, and I’ve genuinely missed it while he was gone.
“Oh, I see. You didn’t miss me, you missed the pot.”
There he goes again, treating the words I say like they’re some joke.
I could correct him, but I choose to let him get away with it. It’s another thing that helps him tolerate me, playing off any hint of sentiment I share. “The Princess Bride?”
It’s one of his favorites, something we’ve watched together a few times. It’s a bit manipulative to suggest it—I know it ups my chances of him agreeing—but I’ve gotta use the tools I have.
“Aren’t you tired? You have to be up for work in like four hours.”
I am tired—very—but I want to catch up. “Nah.”
He’s thinking about it. Probably going over the pros and cons of hanging out with me. I don’t know what the cons are, but there must be a lot with as long as it takes to come to a decision.
“Yeah, okay.”
My face splits into a grin, and he’s quick to ruin that.
“But you have to put on a shirt.”
A part of me wants to tell him that he should change his, but it’s not something I can suggest without sounding irrational.
I really don’t think that it’s his shirt, though. I’ve never seen it before. I mean, I doubt I have every single piece of clothing he owns and wears memorized, but something in me is insisting that it’s not his. It’s too big.
“Where were you?” I ask without thinking, but now that it’s out there…
“Why do you care?”
He’s always got to put up a fight. I know spanking kids is wrong, but my mom was doing the whole parenting thing all by herself and I was spanked as a kid. Now I’m an adult who has manners, while Baby has none.
“I don’t.” I shrug. “Just wondering.”
“Put on a shirt, Logan. Now, or I’m going to bed.”
I huff. “Okay.”
I stand up and head to my room quietly, wondering if a few good slaps on his ass would work on a brat of his calibre.
“I’m going to start it now, so hurry.”
Something tells me that he’d need more than a few.