Page 8

Romy

“He says I make the place smell like lavender and peach,” I complain to Bee.

She called me to find out how I’m settling in. I told her about Otis, but left out the horns and fur. Bee already thinks moving here was a terrible idea. I don’t need her questioning my sanity too.

“And do you?” she asks.

I scoff. “Is it a crime to take care of your hygiene with lavender shower gel and peach shampoo? I could be one of those people that never showers. That would be worse than the house smelling girly, right? Besides, it’s my house!”

“You need to calm down,” Bee says with a laugh. “And don’t let some hot dude who’s living in your house rent-free lock you out of your own bathroom.”

I groan. “I know.”

“Go and tell him you’re the boss, Romy.”

We say goodbye, and I hang up the phone. I grab my towel and head to the bathroom. The bathroom door is closed, and I can still hear the shower running. It has been for the past half hour.

I rap my knuckles against the door. “Otis, get out! You better not expect me to pay the water bill this month. That’s on you!”

When there’s no reply, I bang on the door again. The shower finally shuts off. It takes another three minutes before the door swings open.

Otis stands in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of tight boxer shorts that leave nothing to the imagination.

Lord, help me.

I’ll never get the sight of his dick straining against those tight boxers out of my mind.

I force my eyes up, over his broad chest, until I reach his face. My throat feels like sandpaper. What was I going to say?

“You’re using up all the hot water. And water’s expensive,” I finally say.

“Stop stressing. We’ll split the bill,” he says.

“You’re paying the entire bill, Otis. At least until you learn to stop wasting water.”

He arches an eyebrow, and I swear he’s laughing at me! “Noted, Mom.”

“I’m not… Ugh!”

I slip past him into the bathroom. He heads into the hallway with a laugh, and I slam the door behind his far-too-perfect ass.

Why is he so insufferable? He promised me two days ago he’d start looking for somewhere else to live, but I doubt he’s made even one phone call. And does he have to parade around in nothing but his underwear? Fine, he just got out of the shower, but still.

I hop into the shower, but of course the hot water runs out right after I shampoo my hair. I rinse it with cold water, then quickly towel myself off and put on a pair of pajamas. All I want right now is to claim the sofa and watch TV.

Except when I come into the living room, Otis is there.

He’s stretched out across the couch with his legs propped on the armrest, holding a paperback and completely ignoring me.

“That’s my couch you’re lying on,” I say.

“Technically, I bought this couch, and you’re using it until your new one arrives,” he says.

I pinch the space between my eyebrows. “Move your feet. I’m sitting down.”

He groans, but moves nonetheless.

“Are you really reading a classic?” I ask, glancing at the cover of his copy of Orwell’s 1984.