Page 35 of Bad at Love

What I need is something hot and fresh. Something like… something like Gabe. He’s shy, nerdy, with the perfect amount of innocence. People would eat him up. Especially with that massive cock of his. A nerd with a big cock? Fuck, if that’s not a money maker right there. But there is no way he would ever do something like that. In fact, the guy doesn’t jerk off at all. Or if he does, he’s really good at hiding it and making it seem like he doesn’t. Won’t lie, I’ve listened in on him a few times. Both in the shower and in his room. He’s as quiet as a mouse.

Why I’m so worried about what he does on his own time, I don’t know. Just curious, I guess. He’s an odd one, and I’d like to get to know him better. Not only because he’d make us both a lot of money, but because he’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before. Not that I need the money right now, but if my subs keep dropping, I won’t have money for long. So the key is to stop my subs from unsubscribing. I need new content. Gabe needs money. It’s perfect.

So the question is: how do I convince my roommate to make porn with me?

Chapter Fifteen

Gabriel

I’m struggling today. Things were good for a while, but now they’re all messed up. Nothing feels right—and Storm is lying to me.

I offered to give him a ride to see his mother yesterday because I was being nice and trying to keep things amicable between us. I understand he doesn’t want to be friends, or anything more than roommates, but I can still be nice to him, right? That’s the polite thing to do. I have to live with him, so we should get along. That’s been my whole thing since he moved in. Having someone live here that I can get along with is important. It’s why I was so stressed about finding someone. That, and the fact I know I’m a lot to deal with. So someone who can stand to be around me for more than ten minutes is a plus.

Storm said he wanted to live here because it was close to his mother. He said living with her wasn’t an option, but didn’t tell me why. I left it alone, because if I had the choice, I wouldn’t live with my mother either. I’d considered it, and Storm—or another stranger—was the lesser of two evils. But why would he lie about where his mother lives? Does she live near here at all? Which begs the question: why ishehere?

The house I dropped him off in front of, the one he said his mother lived in, is owned by Norman Westerson, the neighborhood grump. He’s the one who calls if your trash is out front too early, or if there are weeds growing on the sidewalk. Everyone in a four-block vicinity knows where he lives and we avoid him at all costs. But Storm didn’t know that—why would he? I suppose it’s possible his mother moved in with Norman and that’s why Storm won’t live there, but it is highly doubtful. From what I’ve heard, Norman was married at a young age, loved his wife dearly, and when she passed, well… this is what we have now. He’s been miserable since her passing and swore off dating for the rest of his life. Now, I don’t know the man personally, but it is hard to believe that Storm’s mother lives there with him. Nearly impossible. So why is Storm lying?

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I can’t make sense of it. It’s also concerning, because why was he so adamant to live here? Did Tara send him? My mother? For god’s sake, the last thing I need is to be paranoid in my own house. Meaning, I have to ask him. I don’t want this sort of confrontation, but for my own sanity, it has to happen.

“Morning!” he announces, startling me, and sounding cheerier than he has for the last couple of days.

“Morning,” I answer, dividing the scrambled eggs onto two plates. Next goes the bacon, then the buttered toast.

“No work today, right?” he asks when I put the plate in front of him.

“Right,” I answer carefully, taking my seat.

“What are your plans for the day?” Picking up his fork, he stabs a sizable chunk of eggs, shoving it into his mouth. He hasn’t even made coffee yet—that’s strange. It’s the first thing he does when he comes down here. After saying good morning, that is.

“Laundry. Cleaning my office.”

“You know, I’ve never seen you go in there. Do you actually use it?”

“Not as much as I’d like.”

“How come?”

I stare at him for a moment. “I don’t know. What am I supposed to do in there?”

“Anything you want, Gabe. Hey, so question for you. I know being here has helped with the bills and all, but if you could do a side job, one that didn’t take much time but made you a ton of money, would you do it?”

I narrow my eyes, taking in his smile and the way his eyes are a little wide. It’s a weird look, one I’ve never seen on his face before. Looks almost… mischievous. This, on top of my other concerns about him, makes me worried. Maybehe’sthe serial killer? I glance around my kitchen, imagining the walls covered in blood and my severed head in the sink.

“I don’t know… maybe?” I say carefully.

“Cool, cool.” He picks up a piece of bacon and shoves the entire thing into his mouth before getting up and going to the coffee machine. I watch him carefully. What’s going on with him? I’m not sure I want to ask. I have to spend the entire day with him, except for when he leaves to visit his mom—oh, maybe I could follow him! Yeah, that’s a great idea. I can follow him and see where he goes. Perfect. That’ll avoid any uncomfortable interaction with him. I’ll get answers. Well, one answer. I’ll know where he’s going, but that still doesn’t tell me why he’s here.

When his coffee is done, he comes back to sit at the table and continues eating. I finish my food, then take a sip of my orange juice.

“Have you ever thought of making porn?”

I choke on my juice, causing it to spill from my mouth and dribble onto the table. I put the glass down and grab a napkin to wipe my mouth and the table, looking down at my shirt that now has to be changed. I get up, bringing my things to the sink. It’s only when I’m halfway to the door that I remember what he asked me.

I frown at him. “Why in the world would you ask me that?”

His eyes are wide as saucers now. It takes a second, but he finally shrugs, looking down at his food and says, “Just heard they make a lot of money.”

“They do inappropriate things with multiple people. Sometimes at the same time.” I shiver at the thought.

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