Caleb: YOU PUT A PINK AND PURPLE UNICORN SWEATER ON MY KITTEN?
Me: What? He LOVES it!
Caleb: I can see his disappointment from here.
Me: Nah, he’s just mad right now because I won’t let him push my pop off the table.
Caleb: Oh god. He loves doing that—and sitting on your laptop. Don’t let him do that either.
Me: I’ve noticed he’s keen on that.
Caleb: This one time, I had my laptop balancing on the end of my bed. Shorts were down to my knees, dick in my hand, porn playing, and he comes and sits RIGHT ON TOP OF MY KEYBOARD. The sound kicks on and all you can hear is LOUD AS FUCK moaning. My roommates gave me shit for days.
Me: First, I was not expecting a story about you jerking off to porn. Second, I think I love Mittens even more now. YOU DO NOT WATCH PORN AND SPANK YOUR MEAT WITH PEOPLE IN THE HOUSE. The fuck is wrong with you?
Caleb: When you get the urge, you get the urge. Don’t judge me.
Me: I’m not judging you…much.
Me: You’re right. When there’s an itch, you gotta scratch it.
Me: JUST NOT WHEN OTHER PEOPLE ARE HOME! GOSH!
Caleb: That tone…that was judgmental.
Me: You could hear my tone through text? Do you have a superpower I don’t know about? Is that why you’re so obsessed with comics? Because you have your own?
Me: Also…I’m not judging, I’m just not NOT judging you either. ;-)
Caleb: Yes, that’s exactly why I read comics. You nailed me.
Me: Well, I haven’t, but I could.
Caleb: Now THAT is how you flirt. I’ve taught you so well.
Me: Hush.
Me: Okay, for real though—why ARE you such a comic nerd? Is it the skintight, borderline sexy outfits?
Caleb: Totally. Have you seen the muscles on Superman? *fans self*
Caleb: But really, it was all I had as a kid. There was a comic shop a short bus ride away and I could pick up eight comics for like two bucks. Kept me entertained for weeks at a time.
Me: It’s crazy to me how different your life there seems from your life here.
Caleb: Fresh start.
Caleb: College is the best thing to ever happen to me.
Me: Besides me, right?
Caleb: Sure, we’ll go with that.
Me: CALEB! Tell me I am the best roommate you’ve ever had! You know it’s true! Hell, I’m taking care of your damn cat for you.
Caleb: Because that is SUCH a hardship. *rolls eyes*
Me: That’s not the point here.
Caleb: That is exactly the point here.
Caleb: Stop pretending to be upset. You know I adore you. Most days…
Me: Most days? MOST DAYS?!?
Caleb: I’m not changing my answer just because you caps lock me.
Me: INCORRIGIBLE!
Caleb: DOWNLOAD ATTACHMENT
Me: What is that?
Me: Is that you on a bus?! Are you on your way home a day early???
Caleb: Yep and yep.
Me: YAY!
Me: I mean, cool, whatever. Who gives a shit?
Caleb: You act like you’ve missed me or something.
Me: I AM DYING. I’m SO bored. Delia said this would happen too. That’s why she was so adamant I get a new roomie. I followed her advice and look what’s happened? I’m still bored because you’re always gone.
Caleb: I’m the worst.
Me: I know.
Caleb: You’re not even going to refute that? Not even to make me feel a bit better?
Me: No. Why should I? YOU SUCK.
Me: Kidding. Maybe.
Me: What do you want for dinner? My treat.
Caleb: Your treat as in you’ll cook? Or your treat as in you’ll buy?
Me: I feel like you want me to say buy because I’m a horrible cook.
Caleb: It would be the safest option, right?
Caleb: Actually, you know what? Let’s cook together tonight. I’ll teach you a few things.
Me: Okay, first…SO RUDE! Second, are you sure? That’s a HUGE commitment.
Caleb: You cannot be THAT bad. We’ll do something easy. Do you like Alfredo?
Me: Do I like Alfredo? Um, YES!
Caleb: We’ll do that then. SUPER easy to make. You can’t mess it up.
Me: We’ll see…
Caleb: About thirty minutes out. You ready to cook?
Me: DOWNLOAD ATTACHMENT
Caleb: HOLY FUCKING SHIT.
Caleb: ARE YOU NAKED UNDER YOUR APRON?!
Me: WHAT? NO!
Me: Oh crap, it does look like I’m naked, huh? I just thought my boobs looked great in the shot and sent it.
Me: Don’t forward that to your friends. ;-)
Caleb: Haha. Very funny. NOT.
Me: I thought it was hilarious.
Caleb: You’re a real damn comedian.
Me: Oh hush, you grumpbutt. What do you want for dessert?
Caleb: Peanut butter cookies? With extra kisses. ;-)
Me: GAG.
Me: You’re so corny sometimes.
Caleb: You enjoy it.
Me: Only never.
Caleb: LIES!
Caleb: Fifteen minutes.
Me: WAIT. How are you getting here from the bus station?
Caleb: Walking. It’s only about two miles.
Me: Caleb…
Caleb: Zoe, I’ll be fine. It’ll be good exercise. I didn’t get the chance to work out these last two days so I need it.
Me: Fine, but I’m only agreeing because you have one hot body and I know you like to keep it in shape.
Caleb: You think I’m hot, huh?
Me: Your body is hot.
Caleb: Which means I’M hot.
Me: No, it means your abs and your ass and your legs and your arms and your back and your jawline and your crooked nose and your stupid sexy full lips and your blue eyes and your hair that’s in desperate need of a cut are hot. You’re a whole different story.
Caleb: You make no sense.
Me: Personality, Caleb. Your personality is what makes YOU hot.
Caleb: So I AM hot? Or I’m not?
Me: You’re sexy. That’s a whole different level of hot. ;-)
Caleb: Oh. I see what you did there.
Caleb: Bus just stopped. I’ll see you in about twenty.
12
“I get to whisk it? Whisking is easy. I got this shit.” I shove Caleb out of the way. “Move it. I’m a whisking pro, bro.”
“You’re proud of yourself for that, huh?”
“So proud,” I tell him, whisking away at the creamy Alfredo sauce in the pan as he periodically pours in milk. “This cooking thing is easy so far.”
“Yeah, you’re not doing too bad. We only had to put out one small fire and start over twice. That’s progress.”
“Oh, I’m kicking ass and taking names. BAM!”
“Did you just Emeril that sauce?”
I give it another good whisk. “BAM! BAM!”
Caleb laughs. “You’re not even doing it right.”
“You’re not right.”
“Sure. Okay, I’ve turned the water on for the noodles. Watch that and finish out the sauce while I run up the street to grab garlic bread. You can’t have Alfredo without garlic bread.”
“Sticks—grab sticks. I like eating those more.” He opens his mouth and I lift a finger his way. “Ah, ah, ah, not one dick joke, you got it?”
He tightens his lips, laughing to himself. “Yes, ma’am. You think you have everything under control?”
“Yep.” I scan the recipe and directions on my phone. “It says add Parmesan and peppers.”
“Pepper, like black pepper.”
“Oh, well that makes more sense. Okay, so add pepper and then remove from heat when it reaches the consistency we’d like.” I pause and grin his way. “I don’t know about you, but I like it thick.”
“And you said I couldn’t make a dick joke? The shit is that?”
“I’m cuter than you, so I can do what I
want.”
He stalks toward me, chuckling. “Is that right?”
“Yep.”
“Even in this apron of mine?”
Giving him a onceover, I screw up my lips, contemplating what he’s offering. I gave him my apron that has a hand-painted portrait of Chris Hemsworth on it.
“Well…you do have Hemsworth on your apron, so that’s giving you at least a few points.” I push onto my tiptoes and lean into him. “But I’m still winning.”
He places a gentle kiss on my cheek. “I’ll just keep letting you believe that. Watch the food. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes?” It comes out a squeak.
“You can manage ten minutes on your own. You’ve been doing great so far.”
“Yeah, because you’ve been here. That makes me relax and not panic.”
“There’s nothing to panic about. You’re turning the sauce off and you’re boiling water. You’ve boiled water plenty of times for your mac and cheese obsession. You got this.”
“And if I burn the apartment down?”
He shrugs. “It’s not my apartment.”
“Hey! Is too!”
“Fine. I’ll be mildly upset. There’s a lot of money worth of comics in that bedroom.”
“Plus Mittens.”
“Well I was hoping in your haste to escape, you’d at least think to grab the cat.”
“You’re right. Good point.”
Caleb grabs my keys off the counter. “You mind?”
“You remember how to drive, right?”
“I think I can manage a three-mile round trip.”
“I hope so.” I pat him on the shoulder twice as a good luck gesture. “I’d hate to have to chop off your nuts when I haven’t yet had the chance to see them.”
“If it’s nuts you wanna see, baby…” He pretends to begin unbuttoning his pants.
I push at his chest, sending him closer to the door. “Get out of there. Out of my kitchen!”
He just laughs, shaking his head at me.
“Please don’t be mad at me!”
Caleb pauses in the doorway, one hand still on the knob, the other holding a paper bag. “That’s never a good thing to hear.”
“I know, I know, but you have to understand, this is kind of your fault.”
“My fault?” He sniffs at the air. “What’s that smell? What did you do, Zoe?”
I hold out my hands, trying to defend myself against his words. “You’re the one who said I would be just fine on my own for ten minutes. You were right, but Caleb? You were gone for twelve.”
His eyes widen as he makes his way into the kitchen, sets the bag on the counter, and peers into the pot on the stove.
“Am I looking at what I think I’m looking at?”
“Y-Yes.”
“That’s the sauce we worked on?”
“Uh, yes. Yes it is.”
He tips his head to the side. “How?”
“Um…how?”
“Yes. How?”
“It just happened.”
Caleb barely manages to suppress a shocked laugh. “Just happened? The sauce magically conformed to the pan and turned brown?”
I nod and wiggle my fingers. “Magic.”
“Mmhmm. And the water?”
“Th-The what?”
“The water? For the noodles?”
My mouth drops open. “Oh.”
“Oh? What does ‘oh’ mean?”
“I forgot.”
His head whips toward the pot that used to hold the water for the noodles, just in time to catch smoke billowing out from underneath it.
Rushing into action, he grabs the pot and switches off the burner before a fire can catch. He takes the pot to the sink, running water over it to cool it off before refilling it and setting it on a new burner.
He points at it. “No touchy touchy.”
“But…but…” My shoulders sag in defeat. “Fine, but I didn’t catch it on fire! That’s an improvement!”
He regards me with an amused smile. “You turned our nearly done sauce brown and you boiled an entire pot of water until it was empty. Within ten”—I open my mouth to correct him and he holds a hand up—“sorry, twelve minutes. You are officially fired from cooking tonight.”
“And the cookies?”
“I said cooking. You can still bake. You’re somehow actually good at that.”
“It’s because there are directions and timers and love involved. Baking is a labor of love!”
“Okay, grandma, calm down. I’ll remake the sauce, but you need to keep your distance. I don’t know what kind of voodoo you’re up to, but there will be none of that in my kitchen.”
I hang my head, feeling a little embarrassed about my flub. “Okay, I get it, I suck.”
“You don’t suck.”
I can’t not make the comment… “Oh, but I do,” I say, winking.
He breaks out in laughter and grabs the bag he brought home, pulling out the package of breadsticks and shaking it. “Can you manage putting these on a pan?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Yes, you ass.”
“Hey, I have valid reasons for questioning your cooking skills. All I asked you to do was watch water boil and move a saucepan from one burner to another.”
“A watched pot never boils,” I mutter.
“What was that?”
“I said the water wouldn’t boil. I was watching and watching, and nothing was happening, so I turned up the heat and starting working on the cookie dough.”
“And then what happened?” he pushes.
“I forgot.”
“You forgot?”
“That’s what I said.”
He drops his head, and I can see his shoulders shaking.
I toss a hand towel at him, barely missing the stove—and another fire. “Stop laughing! This is a serious problem!”
“This is why I am so confused on how you can bake, but not cook.”
“Timers, man! Timers make all the difference.”
“I am so happy I moved in so you’re not dying of starvation or cursing me in ten years when all that mac and cheese is sitting on your hips.”
“They’d be the happiest hips in the world. Mac and cheese is goddamn delicious, and you know it.”
He grabs the sauce ingredients from the fridge…for the third time tonight. “Homemade mac and cheese is delicious. That boxed crap is shit, and you know it.”
“You have me there.”
The timer sounds on the oven so I grab an oven mitt, shove Caleb aside, and pull dessert out before switching it off. I place them on a cooling rack and turn to my baking cabinet, looking for Kisses to put on top of the cookies.
“Shit,” I mutter when I find my almost empty bag. I spin around, showing Caleb what I find. “Looks like you’re getting about four Kisses tonight.”
He grins, grabbing the paper bag he brought home off the counter and pulling out a brand new package. “Oh, I’m getting more than four.” Leaning against the counter, he crosses his legs, tossing the bag of chocolates from one hand to the other, back and forth. “How about this: you get one Kiss for every two I get.”
I cross my arms over my chest and mirror his pose. “One for one.”
“One for two.”
“One for one.”
“One for three,” he counters.
“One for two.”
A victorious grin spreads over his lips and I realize I just fell right into his trap.
“Dammit,” I groan. “Ass.”
“Hey, I won fair and square. It’s not my fault you suck at cooking and negotiating.”
An idea hits me, and I sashay toward him like he’s my prey. I slide up close to him, batting my lashes and bringing my lips within an inch of his, my hands resting on his solid chest.
“You’re right. You did win,” I whisper huskily.
My nearness is influencing him. It’s obvious in the way his chest begins to rapidly move up and down, the way his body cants to
ward me, his eyes dilating.
He’s teetering on the edge of excitement, and I know just what will make him tip over.
I slowly run my hands down his chest, over his abs, and rest them on the waistband of his jeans. I peek up at him. “But you didn’t say where I had to kiss you.”
I move just left of his lips and place a gentle kiss on his skin, and then another directly beneath it…and one more just along his jawline before pressing my lips to his neck. He sucks in a deep breath, his hips jutting out to make any sort of contact they can. His hands land on my waist, holding me close.
I continue to pepper kisses all the way up to his ear, relishing the way his body reacts when I reach the spot just behind it. An obvious shudder runs through him and his hips press my away again.
I trace a path all the way to the other side, eliciting the same reaction there.
My kisses continue until my lips have touched every inch of his face. He stands there accepting them, eyes closed and gasping for air, arousal clear as day.
When I settle the last kiss in the same place I started, he sighs and rests his forehead against mine. Hands tighten on my waist, and I’m sure I’ll be bearing an imprint even tomorrow.
Texting (The Complete Series Page 32