Down and Out(17)

It might make me sound like a jackass, but my way is the path of least resistance. I don’t have the patience or inclination to chase after a girl, not when there are so many others willing to take her place.
But for some reason, Savannah’s resistance is fun. Entertaining, even.
“You’re not how I thought you’d be either.”
This I gotta hear. “How’d you think I’d be?”
She shrugs and wraps the hand towel around the perspiring baggie. “Serious. Maybe even a little moody.”
At my frown, she says, “That, right there. You’ve had that look on your face all day today.” Her voice lowers, like she’s regretting saying anything in the first place. “If you’re not careful, your eyebrows are gonna get stuck like that.”
My frown deepens. “Sorry. This is the face I make when I’m concentrating.”
“What have you been concentrating so hard on?”
You. “Nothing good,” I say on a long sigh.
Savannah puffs out her cheeks as she exhales, then winces and gingerly touches the bridge of her nose. Placing the ice back to her face, she says, “I wasn’t expecting you to provide dinner and a show tonight, so thanks for that.”
My lips purse, trying to contain my smile, but eventually it breaks free.
I wasn’t expecting you to be so funny, so thanks for that.
After a beat of silence, her hand falls away from her face. She bites her lip and wipes away a droplet of water that fell from the bag onto her thigh, lowering her voice to say, “Seriously, thank you. For everything.”
My brows pull taut as I clear my throat. “Don’t worry about it.”
Things begin to turn awkward as the seconds pass, and pretty soon she’s standing and mumbling something about going back to bed. I try not to stare at the patch of pale skin peeking out between her cotton shorts and tank top, but it’s hard since it’s eye-level.
“Goodnight, Declan.”
Even the way she says my name has an effect on me. It sends my pulse racing as my heart flops around like a fish out of water. Since when the hell does that body part respond to chicks?
I force my eyes up to her face, seeing her smirk down at me. Damn it, she must’ve caught me staring.
Frowning in resignation, I wave once and watch her leave, sighing at the sight of her ass in those tight shorts. When she’s tucked away in my room, I grab my pillow and groan into it, left to deal with this nasty case of blue balls.
I’m f*cked when it comes to this girl. So f*cked.





It gets too hot in my car to sleep much later than dawn, so I’ve been waking up at ass o’clock in the morning for the past week. And now that I’m in a giant, comfy bed, I’m still waking up when the sun’s just barely starting to peek out, much to my chagrin.
Yawning, I stretch and grumble my way out of bed. If I didn’t have to pee so bad, I’d force myself to go back to sleep, because last night was the best sleep I’d gotten in days. Declan’s bed is so comfy, and it felt amazing to spread out.
I still slept with the door locked and the can of mace under my pillow, though. Old habits die hard, and all.
The apartment’s quiet as I crack open the door and walk across the hall to the bathroom. I flip on the light and shut the door behind me, doing the holy-shit-I-have-to-pee dance as I lower the toilet seat. Sweet relief comes over me while I stare at the cream tile lining the walls and floor.
It’s nice being able to pee in the same place where you sleep. I’d almost forgotten what that’s like.
As the toilet flushes, I turn on the faucet and wash my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The bridge of my nose is a little discolored, but it’s nothing that makeup won’t cover.
Turning off the water, I really look around the bathroom for the first time. The shower curtain’s clear, but has circles of black, red, and gray in various sizes. The countertop has the same granite from the kitchen, and is littered with various male toiletries—Axe body spray, an electric razor, some hair stuff, and a small silver hoop. Frowning, I wipe my wet hands on my shorts since there’s no towel on the rack, and then pick up the piece of jewelry to inspect it.
It looks like an earring. Declan has his ears pierced—I saw the small gauges yesterday and the day before—but why is there only one earring here? My brows pull tighter as I put it back and look around for the other one.
I eventually give up when I can’t find it and move on to the body spray, picking it up to take a whiff. Oh, man, it smells good. Like sex appeal in a bottle. All dark spice and undeniable masculinity.
Putting it back in its spot, I turn off the light and tip-toe down the hall, stopping when Declan comes into sight. He’s stretched out on the couch, on his back, with a sheet twisted between his legs. Mumbling, he lifts his arm and drapes it over his eyes, his legs shifting and tugging the sheet down until his pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs are exposed, along with the outline of some very impressive morning wood.
I’d been too shocked last night when I walked in on him masturbating to really appreciate its size, but damn. He stirs and I haul ass as quietly as I can into the kitchen, so I won’t be caught ogling him in his sleep like some kind of perv.
I open the fridge’s stainless steel doors and busy myself with finding something to cook for breakfast. It’s all I can do to pretend like I haven’t seen what I just did, that I’m not picturing what it looks like under that thin swath of black cotton, and that I can’t still see him out of the corner of my eye.
I ignore the rustle of him sitting up on the couch, and the following curse he mumbles as he grabs the sheet and places it over his lap. Instead, I bite my lip and briefly close my eyes, letting the warmth on my cheeks meet the cool air pouring out of the fridge that cost more than my car.