Page 29 of Hard to Take

Founded three years ago but growing fast. They make athleisure and are expanding to intimates.

I navigate through their latest collections, impressed.

“Cute, right?” I hold out the screen to Waffles, as if he can see what’s on it. He gives a little grunt I take as approval.

They’re looking for partnerships to launch their new collection and thought I would be a good fit. I can see why—my audience lines up with their perfectly.

“This could be exactly what we need,” I say aloud. I type out a response to the message, asking if they’d send me a few pieces to try and providing my address.

Then I hoist the dog up in my arms with a whoop of triumph. He snuffles back joyously.

Now that my face is close to him, there’s a lingering smell that makes my nose wrinkle.

“When was the last time you had a bath?”

I put on Lizzo and roll up my sleeves, waving for Waffles to follow me into my bathroom. I lift him into my shower, but he doesn’t like that, pawing at the sides. So on impulse, I take him into Miles’s soaker tub.

On the way, I pass his bed.

Embarrassment rises up at the vivid memory of me opening my hand and realizing he found my earring between his sheets.

Nothing says “I’m over fucking my roommate” like leaving jewelry in his bed while you were rubbing one out.

God. He probably thinks I’m so into him.

Waffles doesn’t try to escape, and I’m able to clean him with the detachable shower head and Miles’s shower gel.

By the time I’m done, Lizzo’s halfway through her album and Waffles is shiny and smells like Miles.

I go to the hall closet to search for towels. Inside, I find towels—but also a box of photos.

Privacy says I shouldn’t look. Still, Miles said I could keep my shoes in his closet, so he’s obviously not a stickler for personal space.

When I flip through the pictures, my lips curve without permission.

There are pictures of Miles playing basketball as a child and again as a teen after a growth spurt. His blue eyes shine, his grin wide and genuine. Photos of him with various teams. Winning in high school. With a younger version of his grams. With someone who must be his mom.

In each of them, he’s with other people. He’s popular because he’s a good guy, a good friend. Not only with me, with everyone.

Waffles interrupts my thinking with a snuffling sound from the tub.

I quickly tuck the photos back in the closet and return to him, towel in hand.

“There you go, buddy.” I dry him before I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. He’s sparkling clean, but I’m a mess.

My attention lands on the jacuzzi tub and longing rises up.

Ten minutes later, I’ve cranked the speaker on my phone and set it on the corner of the tub, and I’m sinking into a pool of bubbles. I sing loudly, my feet sticking out of the corner of the tub and resting on the edge.

Should have done this sooner.

Waffles comes up, setting both front paws on the side of the tub, and snuffles at me with curiosity.

“Damn, you’re cute. Like your owner.”

I can’t resist lifting my phone with bubble-covered hands and taking a picture of his adorable face. I type out a text along with the image and hit Send.

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