I was used to Q’s schedule of coming and going for the past few years, and I’m no stranger to early morning alarms for two-a-days, lifting, whatever it might be. But he wasneversetting alarms for five in the morning.
A very brief flash of guilt hits me as I ask, “What time does your coach have you guys in the gym?”
“Gotta be to the training facility by six-thirty.”
My eyes bug out a little, that regretful feeling disappearing instantly. “Then why in the ever-loving fuck is your alarm going off at five? It takes ten minutes to get over there, max.”
His silhouette moves from the dresser to his bed, where I can vaguely make out him shoving clothes into some sort of bag. “I have a hard time waking up early, so I set one every fifteen minutes. It helps me not oversleep.”
Oh, hell no.
“Every. Fifteen.Minutes?” I repeat, gritting my teeth. “Please, tell me you’re joking.”
“It’s either that or I risk missing practice.”
I hear his footsteps move toward the closet. Moments later, he’s shuffling around in the bottom of it, making a ton of racket as various items collide with the walls or floor while he searches in nearly complete darkness for who knows what.
And if my fuse wasn’t already lit, it sure as fuck is now.
Let the record show, if this guy just doesn’t come home for days on end at any point during our time living together, I will not be the one filing the missing person’s report. I will be too busy relishing in the silence.
“Did I leave my shoes by the front door?” he asks, likely more to himself than me, because keeping up with where he leaves his shit wasn’t part of our roommate agreement.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grumble, storming toward the door and flipping the switch. The room is flooded with light, blinding us both, but at this point, I’m already awake. Might as well make it official. “That help?”
“Shit, Hayes. A little warning?” Kason shields his eyes from the onslaught of brightness and starts blinking rapidly.
Once his eyes seem to adjust, he turns my way, and the semblance of a scowl that was on his face quickly shifts to something else. Almost sheepish as his jade-colored eyes lock onto me.
And he just stares.
“What?” I ask, unable to keep the bite of exasperation out of the word.
His attention moves to the floor, a hint of pink creeping up his neck. “I…Uh…You’re basically naked.”
Out of all the fucking things…
“Because I wasasleepwhen your alarm went off, and I came down here to get you to turn it off,” I snap, my tone full of ice and venom. “And my lack of clothing is really what you want to talk about right now? At five in the fucking morning?”
“I just wasn’t expecting it,” he mutters defensively, his gaze still cast downward. “You don’t need to bite my head off for mentioning it.”
I hold my arm out in his direction, where he is in the exact same state of undress. “You’re the one who opened the door with a tent pitching your boxers, but you didn’t hear me pointing that out.”
He looks down, as if just realizing he isalsomostly naked—minus the boner damn near poking out, thank God—and the pink on his neck crawls up to his cheeks and ears now too. I don’t stick around to ease any embarrassment he might be feeling, though.
“Don’t forget to lock the door after you leave,” I mutter before heading back to my bedroom, letting the door slam closed behind me.
For the next twenty minutes while I lay in my bed, attempting to go back to sleep, it sounds like a herd of elephants barreling through the apartment. Faucets running and feet stomping around and cabinet doors slamming, all with little-to-no care about the noise level. I stare at the ceiling the entire time, counting backward from one hundred, then two hundred, then three-fifty just to keep me from going out there and getting into it with him. The last thing I need is one of our neighbors calling the cops on us for having a screaming match in the wee hours of the morning.
Thankfully, things start to quiet down after all that, and I hear barely a sound coming from the crack beneath my door.
Good. Maybe he’s left early for lifting and I can grab a few more hours of sleep.
Nestling back into my pillow, I allow my eyes to fall closed and unconsciousness begin pulling me under again.
That’s when the blender starts.
My eyes shoot open instantly, now glaring daggers at the door.