I groan. “Did you really use my body wash?”
“I’m out. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”
Spinning around in my spot on the couch to face him, I let out a shriek when I see he’s wearing nothing but a towel.
“Why are you naked?”
“I’m not naked, Zoe. I have a towel on. Why are you still staring at me?”
His lips tilt up and I realize he’s right. I am still staring, but I can’t pull my eyes away now, not when his perfectly sculpted chest is on full display.
You can tell taking care of his body is important to Caleb. You can also tell he spends a lot of his free time at the gym. His biceps are chiseled in just the right way, forearms strong and sturdy, and he’s given a little extra attention to his abs, the delectable V guys have drawing my eyes.
There’s a water droplet slowly making its way down, down, down beneath the towel. God do I want to see what’s beneath it.
“Zoe?”
His voice snaps me out of my haze and I bring my eyes to his, cheeks heating with the thoughts racing through my mind.
I will not find my roommate attractive. I will not find my roommate attractive.
“Go put some clothes on, Caleb.”
He smirks. “Because you’re afraid you’re going to try to jump my bones?”
Yes. “No.”
“Are you lying?”
Yes. “No.”
His smirk grows, because he knows I’m lying, but he doesn’t call me on my shit.
Instead he spins around and hustles back down the hallway to his bedroom, only to emerge moments later wearing a plain black t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and no socks.
This might be worse.
There’s something so sexy about a guy in sweats with bare feet. It reminds me of a rainy Sunday afternoon spent in bed…which is exactly where I’d like to be right now.
I watch as he makes his way into the kitchen, opening every cabinet there is and closing each one with a thud louder than the last.
When he makes it to the refrigerator, he all-out huffs in disdain.
“Is there anything to eat here?”
I lift myself off the couch and take a seat at the bar. “What do you mean? The cabinets are full and there’s milk in the fridge.”
“There’s milk for macaroni and cereal, which is nearly all there is in the cabinets.”
“Okay.” I draw the word out, confused. “That’s food.”
He groans. “That’s not real food.”
“It keeps me alive.”
“But not healthy.”
I roll my eyes. “Boring.”
“Smart.”
“Then what am I supposed to eat, huh? I can’t cook.”
His mouth drops open. “You can’t cook? Like, at all?”
“I can make eggs and bake…does that count?”
He drops his head into his hands, laughing. “You can cook the one thing I can’t cook.”
“Wait, you can’t make eggs? But they’re so easy.”
“Well not for me apparently. What can you bake?”
“Anything.”
“Cookies?”
I wave my hand. “Easy.”
“Cupcakes? From scratch?”
“That’s insulting.”
“How about this: you make desserts and I’ll make dinners.”
“Like…all dinners?”
“All dinners when we’re both home,” he says. “Except on Sundays. I won’t be here on Sundays.”
“What happens on Sundays?”
“I have plans.”
“Plans?” He nods. “Every single Sunday?” He nods again.
Interesting…
“Do we have a deal then?”
“Deal,” I agree.
“Good.” He claps his hands together. “We need to shop then.”
I hold up a hand. “Starting now? I just went shopping two days ago.”
“And your cabinets are filled with nothing but junk.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“It’s pretty bad.”
“Fine.” I let out a defeated sigh. “Let’s go shopping then. I’ll put on a proper shirt.”
“And pants. Don’t forget to put pants on.”
“Leggings are pants!” I holler over my shoulder as I make my way into my bedroom.
I listen as Caleb shuffles after me and hear his dresser drawers open. I never hear the bedroom door close and itch to sneak into the hallway to see what I can catch a glimpse of.
Instead I dutifully pull out a t-shirt that isn’t three sizes too big, put the plain navy V-neck on, throw my hair into a messy bun, and swipe on a layer of lip gloss.
Caleb saunters out of his room wearing a pair of low-slung jeans instead of the sweatpants he had on, not having bothered to change his shirt. That same ball cap from earlier is backward on his head again, his dark blond hair spilling out from underneath.
I’ve never understood the appeal of ball caps before. They’ve always been an odd choice of accessory to me.
Until now.
I don’t know if it’s the way he’s wearing it or if it’s that extra swagger it gives him, but damn.
Caleb without the cap is cute. Caleb with the cap? Sexy.
“You good with driving?”
I jingle my keys. “Yep.”
“Mittens was making his way into your room when I walked by—is that okay?”
“Sure, but don’t be surprised when he falls in love with me and only wants to sleep in there.”
“Ha. Like that will happen.”
“Hey, I’m just saying, I’m irresistible.”
“You mean irritating.”
I glower his way. “Watch it, mister.”
He reaches out and tweaks my nose, and I swat his hand away. “You look terrifying. Now scoot. Let’s get this show on the road.”
We make our way from the apartment and I lock the door behind us. It’s a quiet walk to the car but I can feel the heat radiating off his body as he follows me down the sidewalk.
“Where to?” I ask as we click our seatbelts into place.
“You good with Smart Shoppe?”
“Though I am irritated by their use of two Ps and an E, that works. Nice and cheap, just the way I like it.”
“I never understood the extra letters either. I think they were just trying to be fancy.”
“Those fake fancy bastards.” I tsk, turning from the apartment lot and onto the main drag.
The drive is quick and before I know it, Caleb’s grabbing a cart and navigating us to the fresh produce section.
“What veggies do you like?” he asks, grabbing a handful of fresh green beans and tossing them into a bag.
“Anything that isn’t green.”
“Seriously?”
I shrug. “What? It’s a gross-looking color.”
“How can a color be gross-looking?”
“It just can.”
He tries his hardest to hold in his sigh, but it’s no use. “Fine. Grab what you’ll eat then.”
I load up on carrots, cauliflower, red potatoes, and butternut squash.
“You like all that stuff?”
I blink at him. “Yes. Is that a problem?”
“No, I’m just surprised based on what I found in your cabinets.”
“Just because I can half-ass my way through mac and cheese doesn’t mean that’s all I eat.” He stares at me, unmoving. “I order out sometimes too.”
A grin breaks out on his face. “I knew that was coming.”
“Did you now? You a mind reader?”
“Nope. You’re just predictable.”
I grab the nearest item and chuck it his way.
“Did you just…did you just throw a fucking potato at me? In the middle of the store?”
I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down. “How’s that for predictable?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re something else, Zoe.”
“Thank you…I think.
”
“You’re welcome. Let’s keep moving. I’m starving, and the worst time to grocery shop is when you’re hungry.”
We move through the store and argue about what to buy.
“Oreos?” I suggest.
“No.”
“Pop-Tarts?”
His lips curl at the suggestion. “Negative. How is it you survive off that crap?”
“It’s not that bad.”
“There are no nutrients in them.”
“I’ll have you know Oreos are vegan. There has to be some benefit to them,” I try to reason.
“That’s not how that works.”
“You’re not how that works,” I mutter.
“I heard that.” He grabs a box of whole-wheat noodles and tosses them in the cart.
“Those things taste like cardboard.”
“You eat a lot of cardboard in your life?”
He doesn’t even bother to turn to look at me, so he doesn’t see me flip him off.
“Stop flipping me off.”
How in the… “I think I hate you.”
“You wish you hated me.”
And I wish I didn’t want to pull that ball cap from your head and press my lips to yours. Why in the hell does he look so sexy grocery shopping?
Another box of noodles into the cart. “What is Breakfast and Beats?”
“What?”
He gives me a peek over his shoulder before grabbing a jar of organic, sugar-free tomato sauce. “On your flyer you mentioned something called Breakfast and Beats. What is that?”
“Oh.” I shrug. “I just like listening to 90s and early 2000s rap music when I make breakfast.”
“Eggs, right?”
“Or cereal.”
“Cereal isn’t real breakfast.”
“You’re very opinionated about what I’m putting in my mouth.”
His eyebrows shoot up and his lips quirk into a twisted smirk as I realize what I just said.
“Oh god, I didn’t mean dicks, Caleb. I meant food.”
There’s a strangled laugh and I turn to find an old lady standing directly behind me. Her hair is a wild mess of white, nails painted blood red, and a cubic zirconia bracelet hangs off her wrist as she grabs for a box of pasta. A long black cover drapes her shoulders, she’s wearing skinny black slacks and a white blouse, and a string of knockoff pearls sits around her slender neck to complete her look. She’s dressed to the nines, and it’s a bit much for Smart Shoppe, especially at this time of night.
My cheeks heat and Caleb doubles over in laughter, having known full well she was standing behind me the entire time. I swat at his bent form, trying to get him to shut up.
“You!” I whack him on the back. “You are such an ass!”
“Oh honey, now don’t be embarrassed. There’s no shame in taking a little bob on the knob.”
She winks and then sashays away, leaving me standing there with my mouth dropped open in shock and a laughing Caleb still by my side.
“Did she just…”
“Yep.”
“Holy hell,” I murmur.
Caleb stands and wipes at the tears running down his cheeks.
“I think I love that old broad.”
“I think I love that old broad. I want to be her when I grow up.”
Caleb grabs my arms and tugs me down the aisle. “Come on before you run after her and propose marriage.”
I try to stick a few more snacks into the cart but it’s no use; Caleb notices. After the sixth failed attempt, I give up and let him get whatever he wants.
“So how’d you learn to cook?” I ask as I slip a carton of chocolate milk into the cart.
“I didn’t have the option to not learn.” He checks the carton of eggs he’s holding before handing them my way. “I was the oldest kid and my mom wasn’t home often. You can only do so much with mac and cheese and ramen before it gets old.”
“That’s why I order out from time to time—breaks up the monotony.”
He chuckles. “How do you know how to bake but not cook? That seems a bit strange to me.”
“Not really, when you think about it. There are a lot of variables to cooking. Baking is simple. There are ingredients that go together to make this or that and you need to bake it for X amount of time. It’s all very set in stone, no real room to deviate. I like the rules behind it.”
“Hmm…I never thought of it like that.”
And that’s all he says.
We mosey our way up and down more aisles, arms sliding against one another every so often. I don’t know if it’s intentional or not, but it’s starting to feel like it is. I mean, there are only so many times it can happen accidentally before someone takes notice.
“I’m going to grab a bag or two of frozen fruit for smoothies. You head over and grab a couple bags of steamable veggies you’ll eat.”
“Roger that.”
We head our opposite directions and I survey the coolers, trying to find just what I’m looking for. Of course it’s on the top shelf, where I’m too short to reach.
I open the door, the cool air hitting me and sending chills down my back, and hoist myself up onto the bottom of the frame. Even standing on my tiptoes, I can’t reach the bag of corn. It’s sitting at the back of the freezer, just out of reach, even with the boost.
A blanket of heat slides over my back and I shiver again, my nipples coming to peaks. This time it’s not from the cool air but the sudden change in temperature.
“Here,” Caleb says, his gravelly voice slipping over me, curling into my skin. “Let me get it.”
His hand rests on the small of my back, a slight pressure to the touch, and for a moment, neither of us moves. He’s so close that I can feel his chest brushing against my ass with every harsh breath he takes.
Our closeness is affecting him too.
I don’t know whether to be excited or alarmed by that.
Part of me wants to fall back, see if he’ll catch me, wants to know what it would feel like in his arms.
But I don’t.
Instead I climb down, savoring the feel of his calloused hand through my thin shirt.
I stand back as Caleb easily reaches up and grabs the bag of corn, tossing it into the basket.
“Anything else?” he asks.
I shake my head, not trusting my voice at this point.
“All right then.” He peers into the cart and around at the shelves one last time. “I think we’re good here. It’s a decent start at stocking up the fridge.”
“A decent start? You bought like two of everything.”
“And not a single box of mac and cheese.”
“But only because we have enough at home, right?”
He shakes his head, amused. “Sure. Now let’s check out before I think on it too much and make you put that chocolate milk back.”
“You caught that, huh?”
“You’d make a horrible thief. You’re not the least bit slick or subtle.”
“Don’t be insulting, Caleb.”
He rolls his eyes as he pushes the cart up to the belt and begins loading the groceries. “Honest, Zoe—I was being honest.”
“Are you always so sassy?”
“Do you always have to have the last word?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
The cashier, a high school student who looks bored out of his mind, pushes the groceries through the scanner and down to the bag boy, who looks just as enthusiastic as our cashier.
“Paper or plastic?” he asks in a monotone voice.
“Paper,” Caleb says at the same time I say, “Plastic.”
“Paper is better, sturdier.”
“I use the plastic bags.”
“Mittens uses the paper bags.”
“Paper or plastic?” the kid says again.
Caleb and I stare one another down, not wanting to let the other win.
The moment I open my mouth, he does too.
“P
APER!” he shouts at the poor kid, making him jump. Then he throws a cocky grin my way.
I groan and continue loading the belt.
A few minutes and eighty dollars later, we’re caught at another stalemate.
“I’m paying.”
“No way. I got this.”
“Caleb.”
“Zoe.”
“Just let me get this. You’ve already spent enough this week with rent.”
“No way. Go put the cart up.”
“You’re being stubborn!” I tell him.
He swipes his debit card. “That’s funny coming from you.”
“Fine, but we’re getting French fries on the way home, just so you know.”
“But the groceries…”
“Will be fine for ten minutes or so. Now hurry up so my chocolate milk doesn’t go bad.”
Five
“This was the best idea you’ve had since you let me move in.”
Caleb moans as he takes another bite of his burger, swallows, and shoves a handful of fries into his mouth.
I watch every movement with rapt attention.
“Are you making love to that thing or eating it?”
He side-eyes me. “Eating it, and enjoying the hell out of it. I rarely eat anything other than chicken and veggies.”
“Are you serious?”
“What?” he says through a mouthful of fries. “I try to eat healthy. I am an athlete, you know. We need to keep in shape to play the best game.”
“Fair point.”
I pop my last nugget into my mouth and gather up my trash as Caleb polishes off his burger.
“Thank you for that, Zoe.” He shoves his wrapper into the bag and sips the last of his Powerade before shoving that inside too. “I mean, I’m definitely going to regret it later, but damn was that good.”
“You’re welcome…I think.”
“I’m gonna run these to the trash really quick. Lock the door behind me.”
I glance around, surprised he’d make that suggestion. “We’re sitting in a Frankie’s parking lot at eight thirty on a Tuesday. I don’t think anything is going to happen in the forty seconds it’ll take you to toss this out.”
“Are you always so argumentative? The entire time in the store, you were the same way.”
“I don’t argue. I tactfully sway your opinions in my favor.”
“So you argue until you get your way.”
“Sure, if that’s how you want to see it.”
I Wanna Text You Up Page 4