Chapter 8
WAYLON
It’s nearly eight when I hear Lyric pull into the driveway. A long day, indeed. Fortunately for her, I’ve plotted to be named the best roommate in the world.
The front door clicks and Tater goes running. I hang back in the kitchen and pour a glass of sweet tea.
As she enters, I slide it across the counter in her direction.
“For me?”
I nod. “And I’ve put some dinner in the oven for you.”
Lyric’s expression is one of shock and possibly skepticism. “Why?”
It occurs to me that perhaps she’s not used to being the one receiving care. I remember Darcy telling me that she’d much prefer to take care of others and do for them but has a hard time accepting the same for herself. Which makes me a little sad.
“Because you said you’d be home late, and I’m sure you’re tired. And if it was another hard day, I took the liberty of pre-rolling something for us,” I say, shrugging.
“You didn’t have to do all that,” she says. “But, I won’t lie, I’m very happy you did. Today was worse than yesterday.”
“Okay, how about you go change and the food can finish cooking while we smoke?” I hitch my thumb in the direction of the stove. She nods and disappears down the hallway.
When she returns wearing men’s boxers for shorts and a big T-shirt with a frog playing a violin on it, my chest flutters like I might puke.
Boy, is she pretty. She left her hair down and wild over her shoulders.
It was slicked back in a very professional bun before.
I imagine it would feel nice to let it loose after that.
Like taking off your bra. Or scratching your balls.
Of course, I can personally relate to only one of those things.
“You head to the sunroom. I’ll be right there with everything,” I say, turning to check on her food.
She takes her glass and heads through the door. I pull the small dish of teriyaki from the stove and set it on the counter to cool. Then I grab the small tin with the joint inside and follow after her.
“Your dinner is just cooling down,” I say, adjusting the filter between my lips. I flick my lighter and suck, then exhale and pass it to her.
Maybe this could be a regular thing for us.
Sunroom smoke sessions does have a nice ring to it.
It’s been a while since I had a roommate I actually wanted to chill out with who also wanted to in return.
I don’t know if it would be the same with a male roommate, though.
Or any other roommate besides Lyric, if I’m being honest.
I sit back onto the couch beside her, the weight of my body causing her to dip toward me, but neither of us fight it.
Her left leg is pressed firmly against my right, so I put my arm across the couch behind her.
Lyric falls naturally into the space next to me, and I get a whiff of her hair.
It smells like coconut and a very bad decision I made one time.
She takes a long hit from the joint and passes it to me. If I didn’t know any better, I would say she’s purposely leaning into me now. I hold it between my fingers and press it to my lips slowly. And she’s watching me. But I know her and I know that look. She’s practically salivating.
Is she closer than she was to me a minute ago?
Her mouth definitely feels closer. I inhale from the joint again, pausing for a moment as I look at her.
She parts her lips without looking away.
I exhale toward her, shotgunning the smoke into her mouth.
She inhales and then blows out. And we’re still looking at each other.
Fuck, this is what happened last time. Something happens to me when she’s around. I turn into a solid combination of desperately horny teenager and afraid-of-commitment man who leaps over tall buildings and every relationship he’s ever had.
“Remember when we almost hooked up?” she asks, but then she keeps going before I can answer. “Well, it occurred to me that maybe it didn’t go the way it could have because we didn’t set any terms or define what we thought was happening.”
Her remark gets the better of me. “Go on.”
“For example, I was just thinking, wouldn’t it be nice if—as roommates, of course—we provided each other with orgasms?” she says, taking the joint from my hand.
“Excuse me?”
“Think about it. I prep some meals, you roll us some joints, and should either one of us need it, we could put orgasms on the table as a roommate perk as well?” She’s sitting up straighter now, clearly proud of this idea of hers.
“You’re suggesting friends with benefits?” I ask, seeking to clarify.
“Roommates, but yes,” she says. “Listen, I’m not one of those girls who’s shy about what she needs when it comes to sex. We’re friends, we get along. I think it’s a great idea.”
I think this is a terrible idea. There’s a reason everyone says friends with benefits never works.
Because it doesn’t. But then I remember kissing her last year.
Brief as it may have been, it was a damn good kiss.
And there’s a reason they say you can tell everything from that first kiss too.
Because you can. It would be so very good.
“We can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “We shouldn’t.”
“You’re sure about that?” she asks, her lips now so close to mine that I could stick out my tongue and it would touch her.
“Not really, but I seem to recall you said no hanky-panky, so I’m just trying to abide by the rules set forth previously.”
“But—” The sound of my doorbell interrupts her next argument as to why we should descend into chaos.
I look at the door and then at her. “Are you expecting someone?”
“If I were, would I be trying to convince you to fuck me?” she says plainly.
I choke as I swallow, getting up from my seat. Christ, I need some space. Perhaps sitting so close was a bad idea. “Fair point. You probably would’ve mentioned that.”
The doorbell rings again, which is annoying. At least give me time to respond before hitting the damn button again. Swinging the door open, I find a very frazzled Ridge.
“Ridge? What’s up, man? Is everything okay?” I step aside and let him in, then shut the door behind him.
“Yeah, uh, everything is fine. Mostly. All good. Is Lyric here?”
“What’s wrong?” she asks from the sunroom doorway.
“Nothing. Okay, good, you’re both here,” he says without taking a pause. “Basically, I need your help. I want to ask Darcy to marry me, and I’m possibly panicking a little about it, and I can’t pull this off on my own.”
“Oh my god!” Lyric yelps and jumps up and down, clapping her hands together. “Oh my god! Oh my god, this is so exciting! How are you going to do it? What do you need us to do?”
“Well, uh, I could use your help with all of it, really. I know I want to do it in front of everyone, but I don’t know a reason we’d all be together that didn’t seem suspicious,” Ridge says, scratching his jawline.
“Right, so we need something like a party that she wouldn’t be suspicious of,” Lyric says. “And you never really host parties, so that would seem odd.”
“Guys,” I say, holding up my hands. “Chill out, I’ll just throw a party.”
“Oh yes, that’s perfect!” Lyric says. “You do random stuff all the time.”
“And Darcy wouldn’t be suspicious because she’ll be too excited about seeing Lyric,” Ridge says, snapping his fingers.
“I really don’t know why this couldn’t have been a text message.” I laugh.
The two of them look at me and then at each other.
“Imagine if you tried to casually text this to me,” Lyric says to him.
“Right, I never would’ve heard the end of it,” Ridge says.
It’s clear to me that they’ve talked about this before, which makes sense. Lyric is a very big part of Darcy’s life. Having the best-friend stamp of approval is very important.
“Okay, well, now that we’ve established contact about it, maybe we can have a group chat for it and work out the details later? You know, when it’s not almost nine at night on a weeknight.”
“I don’t want to poke fun or anything, but that just made you sound like an old man,” Lyric says, then presses her lips together like she’s trying to keep from laughing.
“Yeah, sure,” Ridge says. “Let me get out of here so you can get to bed on time.”
I roll my eyes, we say our goodbyes, and before he ever pulls out of the driveway, there’s a ping from my phone and Lyric’s at the same time.
RIDGE
This is a group chat for discussing Waylon’s frail state. Lyric, please make sure he gets to bed at a decent hour.
At least I know that little joke will stay between these two people. He can’t tell anyone else or he’d have to spill about the rest and letting slip the engagement plans would suck.
“I’m going to go slip into the tub for a soak before bed,” Lyric says.
“Shouldn’t we finish the conversation we were having first?”
“What’s to discuss? You said we can’t.” She shrugs. “I’m a big girl. I can take no for an answer.”
“That’s not exactly how I meant it.”
She’s halfway down the hall when she stops, pulls her T-shirt up over her head, and then continues walking. She doesn’t turn or even look back, just gifts me with the sight of her completely naked back. Boy, is she sexy.
She disappears around the corner, the soft click of her door echoing in the corridor. I adjust my dick in my pants because it’s run out of room. And then I close my eyes and lean over the counter like it’s going to hold me up as I try not to melt into a puddle on the floor.
Great. My dick is hard. Lyric is getting wet in the bathtub. I have to throw a party. And on top of that, my buzz is totally gone.
Tater pads across the floor and rubs his face against the side of my leg. I pick him up and hold him against my chest as I let out a long sigh. “She forgot about her dinner, boy. Do you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing?”
Tater’s head tilts left and he lets out a short bark.
“You’re probably right.” I scratch behind his left ear. “Best to leave things as they are.”
Maybe I can re-approach the subject of roommates with benefits another time.
Except why would I be bringing it up after I’m the one who said no?
Hell, why did she bring it up to begin with?
Is it unreasonable to ask? It’s probably fine, right?
Just curiosity. Except what if this was just a one-time spur of the moment offer and I’ve lost my window?
Christ, I shouldn’t be thinking about windows of opportunity. I made up my mind. I’m respecting her original no-hanky-panky decision and that’s that. She’s just having a moment of weakness brought on by my glasses or her bad days or something.
As I slip into bed, I find myself very upset with the person I was an hour ago. A beautiful, sexy, smart, funny woman offers you a ticket to their ride, you should always take the ride. I mean probably, anyway. It sure seems like a good idea in hindsight.
In the quiet of my room, I hear a faint noise coming from the direction of Lyric’s room. I raise up in my bed, craning my neck to listen for it again.
Is that… Are those sexy noises? The unmistakable melody of a moan fills the air. Yes, those are definitely sexy noises. Oh, Christ. I cup my hands over my ears. Hearing one too many of those will certainly weaken my regard. But now they’re just muffled sexy noises.
I lie back, slamming the pillow over my face. I tuck the sides around my ears, pressing it hard against my ears like somehow that would help. Does she not realize how loud she’s being? God, she sounds hot as fuck. How am I supposed to fall asleep like this?
Tater’s head burrows between my left side and the blanket, curling himself into a tight little donut. He’s seemingly unaffected by the moans, as proven by the fact that he literally fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.
This is my punishment, isn’t it? You turn down an advance from a beautiful woman for technically the second time and the price you pay is aural torture. Not to be mistaken with oral torture. And that’s how I know I’ll make a great dad someday. I’ve got the joke part down.
Great, now my dick is getting hard. It’s going to be a long night.