The Roommate Agreement(6)

“You like life a little louder and more action-packed. I like everything to be clean and tidy, and you have no problem living in something a little messier. If you’re going to move in permanently, we need something in place that keeps us both in line.”

He walked around the island, taking the agreement with him, and leaned over. “All right, I’ll bite, Shelbs. What kind of things am I going to find in here?”

I sat up straight. “Compromise. I won’t complain about your friends invading the living room every Sunday as long as it is only confined to one day a week, with prior notice, and you make sure to replace whatever food or drink they clear out.”

“You’ll complain.”

“I won’t. I’ll leave the apartment and work in Java Hut, or I’ll go to Brie’s or my mom’s or something.” I met his eyes. “I swear. That’s part of the compromise, Jay.”

He scanned the front page. “What else?”

“Little things. Like you picking up your socks.”

“Fine, but you’re going to have to make sure the drain in the shower is free of your hair.”

I held up my hands. “Deal. There’s actually a section in that for you to write down what you want me to do, and we’ll compromise from there.”

He made a low humming noise, one that sent a little shiver down my spine. “You’re not allocating bathroom times like that lunatic on the show does, are you?”

“Sheldon Cooper is not a lunatic. He’s a genius.” I paused. “And no. I reserve the right to take a shit anytime I want.”

He dragged his finger down the front page. “Ah, yeah, here it is. ‘Jay will use the air freshener to make sure the bathroom doesn’t smell like man after every visit.’”

It was my turn to grin because he’d made that whole line up. “You do stink.”

“You don’t exactly smell like roses after your morning trip to the bathroom. Neither does the damn room itself.”

“Whatever. Anyway, the first thing in the agreement is the most important and actually related to this morning.”

He flipped open the first page and looked at it. “You wrote it out like rules?”

“Damn right I did.”

“Rule one: must wear pants,” he read. Slowly, he looked up at me with raised eyebrows. “Was it necessary to put that in capital letters?”

“Were you or were you not in your underwear when you walked into the kitchen five minutes ago?”

He clicked his tongue. “Point taken.” He continued to scan the page. “Really? You wrote about the Oreos as rule two?”

Getting up, I walked to the bowl of pancake batter that was on the counter and turned on the stove so the skillet heated up. “Yes, I wrote about the Oreos. They’re important to me. But look—rule four is all for you.”

“We’ll ignore the part where the washer apparently won’t kill me—you haven’t proven that either… Sundays are for football? That’s a rule I can get on board with.”

“You should. It’s not in there for my benefit.” I sniffed and ladled some mix into the skillet.

“Are those for me?”

I slid my gaze his way. “Depends. Are you going to use a duster?”

“This says it’s my friend, but I don’t think it is. I think that’s you trying to make me clean.” He raised his eyebrows and put the agreement on the island. “I have to work this morning so I can’t read it now, but I’ve got time to eat a pancake or eight.”

I rolled my eyes. For a guy who probably had zero body fat, he could eat like nobody’s business. He’d fit right in with The Rock on cheat day, except Jay would eat like that every day if he could.

“You’ll take four, and you’ll cut open the packet of bacon while you’re at it.”

“You want me to make the bacon?”

“Do I like my bacon crispy? Yes. Do I want it to be so burned not even Hell will take it? No. Get the frying pan and sit down.”

“Yes, Mom.”

There was a knock and the sound of everything in the pan cupboard collapsing seconds later.

“Shit.”

“I am not turning around. I am not turning around,” I muttered, flipping the pancake to do the other side.

I really wasn’t going to turn around and look. I already knew that the precariously-organized cupboard was a collapsing hazard, and that was the reason I never, ever asked Jay to get anything from it.

Apparently, I’d been wise.

Until today.

But really, the damn frying pan was at the front. How he created a landslide of bowls and cookware… That was a special talent.

I didn’t need to look to know how much of a mess it was.

Or that I’d be the one cleaning it up.

“I got it,” Jay said, leaning over and reaching to put the frying pan on the hob right as I lifted the first pancake from the skillet and grabbed the ladle to make the second.

“No, it’s fine. Just stack it on the counter, and I’ll re-organize it. I’ve to do it anyway.” I shrugged a shoulder and focused on the pancakes.

“You know you don’t have to do everything, right? I can put the pans back.” His tone held more than a hint of amusement. “You’re cooking. I’m capable of being an adult, despite what you may think.”