Page 23 of Bad at Love

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

My smile falls. Rude.

“I did plan on cleaning that up, by the way. I just needed to shower first, and I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

He nods curtly. “I should apologize for—”

“Yelling at me? It’s fine.”

“No, I am not sorry for that. I am sorry for storming into your room. That’s your space, and I shouldn’t have done that.”

I grin, noting he isn’t meeting my eyes now. I don’t care that he burst into my room. I’m not the kind of person who needs much privacy, not in this sense, and I enjoy being watched. Of course he doesn’t know that; probably shouldn’t know that either.

“Just remember that if it happens again, I’ll probably be naked.”

His jaw tenses, but he nods. “I suppose I can’t convince you to keep your clothes on in there?”

“Not a chance,” I say on a laugh.

“Fine. But I don’t like it.”

I chuckle, shaking my head.

Yeah, I think living here is going to be just fine.

Chapter Eleven

Gabriel

Seventeen days down; seventy-three to go.

I’ve got my mind set on this ninety-day trial, so I can look back on everything that’s happened to see if it’s worth the stress. If my stress level is higher than it was trying to pay the bills on my own, Storm has to go. But if it’s less than me struggling to pay the bills, I suppose he can stay.

I have a running list of mishaps.

Two incidents of leaving the toilet seat up. Even though he has his own bathroom downstairs, he prefers to use the one up there. That’s fine, as long as there isn’t another event of leaving the seat up. If it does, I’ll ban him from that bathroom and he’ll need to go downstairs to do his business. Thankfully, I noticed it before sitting and my ass didnottouch the water.

He has made a mess somewhere in the house that isn’t his room ten times, but I will say he cleaned them all up. Though, out of those ten times, three times he missed spots and I had to go over them. So, not entirely an issue, but it’s still an inconvenience. It’s not difficult to clean as you go, but he doesn’t understand that concept. Not yet, anyway, because I do plan to drill it into him.

I have seen him naked six more times, which is excessive considering he’s only been here a little over two weeks. That is approximatelyoneoccurrence everytwodays, and since it didn’t happen yesterday, that means it’s likely to happen today. I should not have to live my life in fear!

I have not caught him in the act of doingthatagain, and for that I am grateful. Go figure. I am relieved to not find my roommate touching himself inappropriately. What a thing to be happy about.

“What is my life?” I mutter to myself as I place the piece of soggy bread in the pan. It’s Wednesday, meaning it’s French Toast day.

“Morning, Gabe.”

I sigh quietly. “Gabriel. And good morning.”

“I’ll get it right one of these days.”

“Doubtful,” I mutter.

I don’t hate the guy. He’s tolerable. A little too happy, too carefree and messy, and is way too comfortable being naked. But all in all? He’s not terrible. My underwear doesn't seem to have been disturbed. I check them every time I come home and they’re still in place, not a pair missing.

“What are we having this morning?” he asks, grabbing a coffee pod from the cabinet and popping it into the machine.

“It’s Wednesday.”

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