As the popcorn finishes, I fix him a bottle of warmed breast milk. Setting it aside, I grab the popcorn from the microwave and divide it into two small bowls for each kid.
Carrying everything back into the den, I hand Matteo and Bella their snack before gently picking up Cristian.
“Oh, ew, you stink.” My annoying high-pitched mom voice comes through and I mentally roll my eyes at myself.
“Shhh.” Matteo hushes me and I grin, because man does that boy love Moana.
I change the baby’s diaper as quickly as possible before he can either pee on me or start screaming. Wrapping him back up in his swaddle, I join the other two on the couch while I feed him his bottle.
I stayed out too late last night at the party. Despite the three cups of coffee I’ve already had, I can feel the effects of not enough sleep. I haven’t seen Abel since I left him by the fence looking sad and forlorn. There was something heartbreaking about the fact he was at a party thrown for him, yet he was the only one alone.
When I got home he was already there and in bed, so I didn’t bother him.
Looking down at Cristian, I smile. His long dark lashes rest against his olive cheeks. His mouth works against the nipple of the bottle as he slurps at it greedily.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to be a mom. It’s what I’ve always dreamed of. Babysitting helps fulfill some of that desire because God knows I’m not ready for my own kids any time soon. I need to finish college, establish myself, and you know, find a man. Though, there are plenty of options if the right guy doesn’t come along. I refuse to lower my standards just because I want to have a family. I’d rather have an A+ sperm shot into my vagina with a turkey baster than to do it the old fashioned way and end up pregnant by some loser who doesn’t know the difference between their, there, and they’re.
Cristian finishes his bottle and I grab a cloth, draping it over my shoulder to burp him.
The stairs creak near the front of the house and Giulia appears, dressed now in jeans and a long sleeve lightweight sweater. Her hair has been blown dry and she’s applied makeup.
“I know you told me to relax, but I have to stay busy. Let me tell you, it feels amazing to feel like a normal human and not like a dirty sock.” I laugh at her as she grabs her car keys and purse. “I’m going to run and get some groceries. I might grab some coffee too. Are you good here? I hate leaving them, but we don’t have m-i-l-k,” she spells out the letters, “and Matty will have a meltdown without it.”
I wave her on. “We’ll be fine. I have your number if I need you.”
“Thank you.” She smiles gratefully, kissing her three children on top of their heads before leaving.
I hear the door to the garage go up a moment later.
Giulia’s husband, Leo, insisted she get some help since a business deal has kept him from taking time off with the new baby. I think he thought she could do with some adult company that isn’t him and time out of the house by herself. It’s thoughtful and sweet. Anytime I’ve seen them together the love between the two is obvious. He looks at her the way I hope a man will look at me one day.
With thirty minutes left to spare on the movie, two little bodies fall against mine and soft snores fill the room. Cristian snoozes peacefully on my boobs—I swear he thinks they’re snuggable and not the massive weights they actually are—and I can’t help smiling to myself. Children are a handful, babysitting has taught me that, but there’s nothing more rewarding than being loved and trusted by a child. Children don’t judge like adults do. They don’t see color, or weight, any of it, they just see a person and I think that’s a beautiful innocence that’s lost too easily in our world.
An hour later, Giulia returns with several bags of groceries and a half-empty Starbucks iced coffee.
“Oh my.” Her hand flies up to cover her mouth, stifling a laugh, as she finds me covered in her sleeping children. “How long have you been like that? Your legs must be asleep.”
“More than an hour,” I answer in a whisper. “I didn’t want to disturb them.”
“Can I take a picture?” She’s already pulling her phone out.
“Yeah, sure.”
I smile as she snaps the photo before laying her phone on the counter.
“Here, let me help you.” She crosses the room and takes the baby from me so I can slip out from under the other two without waking them. “You’re the kid whisperer, I swear. They never act this well behaved.”
I laugh, shrugging off her praise. “Some people are good at sports. I’m good at communicating with gremlins.”
She laughs at my term. Rocking Cristian in her arms she pulls her checkbook out of her purse and writes a check, passing it to me. “Can you come next Saturday as well? The whole day?”
“Absolutely.” I’ve been accepting every babysitting job I can get right now, as long as it doesn’t interfere with school, so I can put money into my savings. Having a roommate and splitting the costs evenly has freed up some money already, but knowing I only have a year of school after this one is a scary thought. The more money I have saved up the better off I’ll be.
“Thank you. I really appreciate having a chance to feel human again. Leo asked me out on a date for next week, but I told him I couldn’t accept until I knew for sure you could watch them.” Her cheeks are flushed with excitement and I find it absolutely endearing that despite the years they’ve been together, and three children, she’s still excited by her husband asking her on a date.
“That’s so sweet.”
“He really is the best husband.” She sighs dreamily and then shakes her head. “You better get going. I’m sure you have much more important things to do than hang around me. Go do young people stuff.”
I roll my eyes as I pick up my bag from the floor—Miranda and I made plans to go to a yoga class after I finished here, so I brought a change of clothes—and say, “You’re not old, Giulia.”
“I’m going to turn thirty-one. That’s ancient compared to you.”
“Man,” I fight a smile, “way to scare a girl away from aging.”
She smiles back as she walks me to the door. “I guess it’s not that bad.”
“Too late, Giulia. The fear already has me quaking.”
She laughs and opens the door. “See you next week.”
I wave as I step off the porch and head to my car. I call Miranda, letting her know I’m leaving and to meet me at the yoga studio in town.
I’ve only been doing yoga for two years, since Miranda introduced me to it, but I’ve become addicted. It brings me peace, and my body has become much more flexible.
One of the skinny bitches who recently started coming told me she couldn’t believe I could move my body like that with all the extra fat I have. I replied with, “Well, Susan, I don’t know how you manage to talk with all that Botox in your face.”
Now she gives me angry eyes every time she sees me. I don’t know why she thinks it’s socially acceptable behavior to comment on my weight, but I can’t say anything about the chemicals she injects in her face.
Pulling into the lot I spot Miranda sitting in her car, jamming out to whatever she’s playing.
I’d bet you anything it’s Hannah Montana, though she’d deny it until her dying breath.
I found a Hannah Montana CD under her car seat once and she turned as red as a tomato, grabbed it from me, and tossed it in the backseat before taking the steering wheel in both hands. In a deadly voice, she whispered, “We will never speak of this.”
I’ve been sure to keep my lips tightly sealed, because I honestly wouldn’t cross murder off the list of things Miranda is willing to do to keep her secrets quiet.
I park beside her and she climbs out, sliding her sunglasses into her hair.
She has her hair in two braids, hanging down her shoulders, and she’s already in her yoga pants and a jog bra with a loose tee over top. Grabbing my bag, I join her, and we head inside. After signing into class, I go to the bathroom to change.
A few minutes later I join her. I pull my yoga mat out of my bag and lay my bag in the corner of the room with everyone else’s.
Spreading out the thin pink mat beside Miranda’s yellow one—blasted yellow—I sit down to begin the deep breathing exercises.
Most of time I do yoga at home now, but it’s still fun to join a class when we both have time.
The class lasts an hour. When it’s over, we say our goodbyes and I head home. I make a sandwich, scarfing it down in seconds because I’m starving—positively withering away by the second.
Abel’s not home, so I decide to tackle cleaning the place while he’s out of the way. Trying to clean with someone else hanging around is a headache waiting to happen.
Before I start, I grab my Jonas Brother’s vinyl record and place it on my Crosley player I bought from Urban Outfitters like the aesthetic obsessed twenty-one-year-old I am. Except, most women my age probably wouldn’t have hunted down and paid more than two-hundred dollars for a Jo Bros record. I’m not most people though.
I also realize now, I have no room to judge Miranda and her Hannah Montana obsession.
Clearly, we’re trying to relive our youth.
I let the music play as I pick up things, wipe down the counters and coffee table, and vacuum the floors.
When one of my favorite songs comes on, I use the handle of the vacuum as a microphone, shaking my ass to the music. I give it my all, dancing like my life depends on it.
A chuckle behind me has a shriek emitting from my throat and I let go of the vacuum like it’s burned me. In my haste, I lose control of my feet and fall backward onto the couch, all the air being knocked out of my lungs.
Abel crosses the room and turns the volume down on the record player.
“Nice dance moves.” He towers above me where I still lay splattered on the couch, shocked by his sudden appearance.
Though, I guess it wouldn’t seem so sudden if I had been paying attention to the time. He told me he’d be home from work around this hour, and his t-shirt is covered in grease stains, those same dark stains dotting his hands and arms, with the distinct scent of motor oil clinging to his skin.
It should be illegal for him to look so hot while dirty.
“Um … thanks.”
He holds out a hand to me and I take it, letting him pull me up.
I stand in front of him, unsure of what to do or say. I mean, he just caught me singing and dancing to the Jonas Brothers. There’s no possible way I’ll ever live this down.
“So,” he tilts his head and grins, “you’re a Jonas Brother’s fan?”
“Obviously.” I add on an eye roll for good measure to make sure my sarcasm bleeds across my face. “I’m shocked you’re admitting you know who they are.”
“Blondie, I’m pretty sure anyone growing up at any point in the two-thousands knows who they are. There’s no sense in trying to deny it.”
“True.”
His grin widens. “So who’d you like most?”
“W-What?” I stutter, confused.
“Well, everybody had a favorite brother, right?” He muses, crossing his arms over his chest. His amused smile tips the corner of his lips. “So, were you a Nick or Joe girl?”
“There was another brother you know.” My hands fly to my hips defensively.
He waves away my words like he’s swatting a fly. “Nobody cared about him. Should I guess or are you going to tell me?”
I hang my head and mutter, “Nick. I was—I am—a Nick girl. I’d let him break my vagina anytime.”
Abel stifles a snort, shaking his head in amusement. “Have fun babysitting?” I guess he decides it’s better to change the subject before I go into detail on all my Nick Jonas sexual fantasies.
“Yeah, always.” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “That might sound like a lie, but it’s true. I love it. I went to yoga after and then came back here to get some chores done. I need to do laundry and a grocery run.”
Abel groans, running his fingers through his hair.
“I need to do that too. How about we grocery shop today and do laundry tomorrow?”
I hesitate. “Like … together?”
He chuckles. “Well, why not? I need to go, and so do you. At least if we’re together the time should pass faster.”
“Okay.”
It’s not like I can really argue with that, because he’s right. Grocery shopping and laundry are about the two most boring things you can do in the world, but I can’t wrap my head around him wanting to spend time with me. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m awesome, but the popular kids growing up always steered clear of my weirdness, or as I call it uniqueness. Abel, on the other hand, seems to be drawn to it.
“I need to shower first,” he warns, lifting his shirt up.
Holy hell abs.
If there was an abs god, I would be saying a prayer right now.
“Y-Yeah, me too.” My tongue gets twist-tied in my mouth as he removes the shirt completely. Then, because I’m the most awkward human being on the planet, I lift my arms and smell my pits. “Yep, definitely showering before we go.”
“You can go first.” He hesitates, his steps toward the bathroom faltering.
“No, no, go ahead,” I urge. “I need to finish cleaning.”
“You sure?” He raises one brow.
“Yep.” I nod my head up and down rapidly. It’s a miracle it doesn’t fall off and roll under the couch.
He gives a small chuckle, walking backward toward the bathroom.
“Last chance,” he warns.
“To what?” I blurt. “Join you?” My eyes widen when I realize what I’ve said and his grin ticks up a notch.
“I wouldn’t complain.”
Oh my God.
I think I might spontaneously combust on the spot.
Before I can find my voice, he turns and shuts himself in the bathroom.
I collapse on the couch.
“What the hell is happening?” I whisper to myself, feeling hot all of a sudden and not from the temperature in the room.
13
Abel
I push the cart through Food Mart with Lou walking alongside me, her eyes scanning the aisles hungrily. Her hair is damp, pulled up into a knot on top of her head. Her face is clear of any trace of makeup and she’s wearing sweatpants and shoes that I’m pretty sure are actually slippers. She sips on that pink colored drink from Starbucks, because she insisted I stop there before we came here.
“We should get those.” She points, smiling around her straw, at a bag of Cheetos.
“Or not.” I keep moving past the chips.
“Ugh, fun sucker.” She stomps behind me, but quickly catches up. “All your green stuff and chicken needs some junk food to round out the food groups.”
“Mhmm,” I hum, looking down at the list in my hand and turning right at the end of the aisle.
She does some sort of skip-hop-twirl thing into the next aisle, bumping the cart in the process. I try to hide my amused smile. I’m sure I fail when she grins back.
“How about this?” She grabs a bag of marshmallows and waves it around.
“You don’t even like marshmallows.”
She scoffs, plopping the bag back on the shelf she got it from. “How could you possibly know that?”
I turn from what I’m looking at to meet her gaze. “I read minds.”
“Ooh.” She dances on her toes, her drink sloshing. “What am I thinking about right now?”
“Starbursts.”
“Wrong!” she cries, shoving an arm into the air and then lowering it to point at me. “I was wondering how big your dick is.”
I choke on my own saliva and she bursts out laughing. “Gotcha.” She dances ahead of me and I push the cart behind her, acknowledging my list as I go so I don’t forget anything.
Stopping, I grab a box of protein bars and put them in the cart.
Lou hops onto the end, holding onto the cart with one hand and her drink in the o
ther.
“Onward, Mr. Popular.”
I shake my head at her ridiculous nickname for me. I might seem like the guy who has it all to anyone watching on campus, but none of that stuff is what matters. This part of our lives is fleeting. College is a blip of time, gone in a millisecond. Like high school, who you are here doesn’t matter. It’s who you become.
“You know,” she muses as I turn down the next aisle, “you should really try living up to your reputation more.”
I raise a brow in question. “What part of my reputation would that be, exactly?”
“The jerk part. I mean, I’ve heard you’re a womanizer too, but the idea of having a bunch of strange girls coming in and out of the apartment isn’t appealing. I’m not a Madam, and this ain’t no brothel.”
She hops off the cart, ice sloshing in her cup.
I stifle my laughter, reaching for a box of cereal. She grabs a box of Froot Loops from one of the lower shelves and cradles it to her chest.
“I’m getting these and don’t you dare try to sneak them out of the cart. I know where you sleep.”
Dropping my box of cereal in the cart, she does the same with hers all while staring me down.
“Back to this jerk thing, how exactly should I go about it?”
“I don’t know.” She pretends to think. “Stop being as nice as you actually are?”
I throw my head back, laughing. Lowering my head down to her height, I graze my lips against her ear. “Get used to it, Lou. I’m a nice guy.”
She shivers, backing a step away.
Clearing my throat, I move back behind the cart and carry on my way. I don’t know why I love pushing her so much. Maybe it’s my own limits I’m testing.
Reaching the freezer section, she runs ahead and grabs a box of frozen pizza, carrying it back to the cart.
“Frozen pizza is a staple in any student’s freezer. Actually, screw that, anyone’s freezer.”
“You’re really not helping me with my whole healthy eating thing.”
She wraps her lips around the green straw and shrugs. “I like healthy food too, but I have to balance it out with some sugar and carbs.”
Desperately Seeking Roommate Page 9