8
My legs dangle off the edge of the kitchen bench, swinging back and forth.
I’m so bored. Abi left with Brooks hours ago, and there are only so many times I can rearrange the couch cushions.
Voices in the courtyard catch my attention, and I strain my neck to peer out the window.
Sam and a tall, lanky guy with messy blond hair enter through the gates and into the courtyard.
People! Thank God. I jump down from the bench, jog out the door and rush toward them.
“Sam, I am so glad you’re here. I need entertainment. Abi and Brooks are off on a date, and I’ve been left here alone all day.”
Sam and his friend exchange a look that I’m not sure how to interpret.
“Sure, you can come upstairs if you want. This is my roommate, Jeremy.”
“What’s up?” Jeremy asks slowly, each syllable dragging out for half a second too long. “Check out my new tatt!” He pulls up his sleeve, revealing an amazingly detailed great white shark swimming in the ocean, surrounded by rippling water.
“That’s amazing.” I reach out and touch his arm, pulling it closer, careful not to graze the fresh ink.
The detail is stunning. You can almost smell the salt in the air just by looking at it.
An image of the cold waves lapping at my feet sends a shiver down my spine, and I release Jeremy’s arm with a jolt.
“Got any ink?”
“Oh, me? God no,” I say, forcing a laugh, attempting to push past my brief moment of awkwardness. “My dad would disown me. I’d love to, but trust me, he’s not the type of person you disappoint and live to tell about it.”
“Bummer.” He nods thoughtfully, brushing his knotted blonde hair away from his face. “So, did you want to hang? We’re going to play Nintendo.”
I follow Sam and Jeremy up the vine-covered stairs towards their apartment.
Watching boys play video games isn’t usually my idea of a good time, but at this point, I’ll take what I can get.
Sam unlocks their door, and the instant it cracks open, my senses are hit with the overwhelming aroma of weed.
I try to hold my breath, not wanting to cough and make it known to my new friends that the pungent smell is getting to me.
We step into their living area, and my eyes are immediately drawn to an old, stained beige couch in the middle of the room, right in front of a large flat-screen TV.
Video game controllers litter the coffee table, along with empty beer bottles and pizza boxes.
Their kitchen is small, similar to ours.
Old take-out containers clutter the bench top with a single chopping board that has a knife and sliced lemon.
The doors connecting to the living area are all closed.
I assume they lead to two bedrooms and a bathroom.
Jeremy throws his body down on the couch and reaches for a controller as Sam walks directly to the kitchen and swings open the fridge.
I join him, peering inside, nosily wondering what the contents of their fridge look like.
The shelves each have an old, crusty stain on them.
It’s either sauce or the red goo that pools around raw meat.
The pong that greets me makes me miss the weed stench.
I pull my head backwards, hiding behind Sam’s back.
“Sorry,” he says softly so that only I can hear.
“Don’t stress.” My nose scrunches, and I shake my head. I don’t want to make him feel even more embarrassed about his home than I already have.
“Coke?”
“Yes, please.” He reaches forward and takes three cans from the fridge.
“Have you lived here long? It’s nice,” I ask, trying to sound sincere.
“This is our third year. And don’t lie. This place is a shithole.”
“It’s not a shithole,” I say, and Sam looks at me, eyebrows raised. “Ok, the smell is a little much, but it’s not a shithole.”
“Try living here.” He pushes one of the cans towards me. “I have tried to make it nicer, but there are constantly people over, trashing the place. I gave up. It’s only for another year, right?”
“If you ever need some quiet, or whatever, you can always come visit me.”
“I might just take you up on that.”
We walk into the living room. Sam passes Jeremy his drink and takes a seat on the couch.
They’ve spread out on either side, leaving no room for me.
I spot a bean bag in the corner of the room.
That’s as good a place as any, I guess. I attempt to gracefully lower myself into the bag as Sam picks up a controller and begins to play.
“Careful, you’ll never get out of that thing,” he says with a laugh, looking sideways at me.
“Just keep me fed, and I’ll be fine.” I wiggle in an attempt to get comfortable, and the beans rustle loudly beneath my weight. “So, Jeremy, what are you studying?”
“I dropped out halfway through the first year. Uni wasn’t for me.
” He pauses the game, dropping the controller on the coffee table, and reaches for a little bag and a small piece of paper.
“I’m a courier. I deliver contracts and shit to the lawyer firms around the city.
” I watch as he rolls a smoke. He’s not even looking at what he’s doing, but manages to create a perfectly constructed cigarette.
“Want one?”
“No thanks. I don’t smoke.”
“Neither does Sam, but he lets me smoke in the apartment anyways. You don’t mind, do you?” he asks, lighting the cigarette without waiting for my reply.
“No, not at all. It’s your apartment. Smoke away,” I reply, looking over at Sam, who mouths the word “sorry” to me.
I’m in their home. Jeremy can do whatever the fuck he wants.
I watch the two friends continue their game and can’t help but wonder how this pairing came to be.
First, you have Sam, health-conscious, athletic, studying sports science or whatever and sweet as hell.
Then you have Jeremy, who spends his time smoking weed and playing video games.
“How did you two meet?”
“Here. We applied for a shared apartment. We didn’t know each other before we moved in,” Sam replies. Now it’s all making sense.
“The asshole tried to evict me when he found out I dropped out, but Sam, here, took over the lease and let me stay.”
“And by asshole, you mean Brooks’ uncle?”
“I guess so. Brooks is alright, though. He’s a good buddy. Always up for a bit of fun.” Jeremy’s words make me feel uneasy. Brooks might be a good buddy, but the bit of fun he’s up for right this second is my best friend.
“How about you and Abi? How long have you known her?” Sam asks, eyes still on the TV screen.
“We met in kindergarten, and she’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember. Her family took me in, and I lived with them back home. We can bicker like sisters sometimes, but she’s the only one I’d call to help me hide the body.”
“That’s nice that you moved here together. It’s good to have someone.” The edges of his mouth pull downward as he speaks, making it obvious he’s missing someone.
“Do you have anyone back home?”
“Four sisters.”
“Whoa, that’s a lot of estrogen. It must be hard going from living in a place like that to here. So much…” I move my hand around in a circle, trying to choose my words carefully to describe their home… “manliness going on.”
“At least you don’t have to deal with chicks turning into bitches once a month anymore,” Jeremy laughs.
“Hey, don’t say shit like that,” Sam interrupts, putting Jeremy back in his place.
Jeremy raises his hands in defeat, wisely choosing not to say another word.
I like the way Sam stands up for his sisters even though they’re not here.
So many guys our age would nervously laugh along, even if they didn’t agree.
He’s not afraid to call people out when they’ve crossed a line. I like that.
“Hungry?” Sam asks, rising to his feet.
“Sure. Thanks.”
After attempting to get up and failing, I choose to stay seated.
He chuckles to himself, no doubt finding humour in the fact that I’m flailing around while the beans continue to rustle underneath me.
He’s got a nice smile. It’s warm and sweet, and his straight white teeth make him look like a Disney Prince.
He turns to walk towards the kitchen, and I can’t help but let my eyes fall towards his ass.
His tight-fitted sweatpants show off his shape.
He has muscular thighs underneath tight, round ass cheeks.
His baggy white t-shirt hides his torso, but I can tell by the way he’s holding himself that he’s hiding a ripped body underneath all that cotton.
His posture is remarkable, only further proving my theory that his back must be chiselled.
The boy certainly knows how to work out each area of his body.
Not like the gym junkies you usually see walking around, tiny little legs and giant arms swaying back and forth while they strut down the street.
“Take a picture,” Jeremy whispers, leaning clumsily over the coffee table so I can hear him. “It’ll last longer.”