Page 19 of The Naked Cleaner

“So… you don’t mind me being naked anymore?” He smiles in mock surprise.

“Look, dude, seeing you in clothes was awkward. You look weird with clothes. I can cope with the nudity, just no bloody man hugs or cuddling. Okay?”

I am talking too fast. Breathing too loud. Being stupid. And my bloody traitorous dick is jumping in my grip. Filling out as I silently scream at it, shouting for it to behave and go the hell down. I am not attracted to the stunning smiling sexy naked man in front of me, the one who is leaning casually against the doorframe and just smirking at me as I squirm in the hallway and retreat, backwards, into the bathroom, letting the door slam a little too loud behind me. I just sink down on the toilet seat and breathe. Deep long breaths. Just breathe, Pontus. Breathe, goddamnit!

I have no idea how I have managed to get myself into this mess. And he is absolutely right that I use Jonas when I am lonely, and when I panic on the inside and can’t cope with my fucking mess of a life. I hate being alone. Hate it. I am lonely, and pathetic and useless and hopeless, and stuck in my bloody gleamingly clean bathroom that smells of grass and lavender and crap.

“When you come out, I have made you a nice cup of tea. I bought biscuits.”

That’s him. The naked weirdo that has attached himself to my flat and won't leave. Then my stupid self has gone and made some sort of deal with him and then he cuddled me to sleep. And he doesn’t even like me. At all.

“Hate tea.” I shout back. A little more forceful then I perhaps should.

“No, you don’t, and we made a deal about being nice, so what you should have said was‘Well, thank you lovely Louis, and I will be right out and I will drink your delightful cup of Earl Grey.”

“Earlwhat?” I shout back. Because despite me thinking I am calm, I have no chill. Zero.

“Just come out and drink tea you fucking wanker. “ He shouts from the kitchen. I think.

I do, eventually, hobble down the hallway and plonk myself on the sofa like a loser, as Louis smiles as though I have just bought him a fucking puppy. And I am now wearing a dressing gown and clean underpants. I’m like, fully dressed, so fuck him.

He still sticks a cup of brown gloop in my hand and I sniff it suspiciously.

“When are you leaving?” I snarl. Because I am a wanker. He’s right about that too. I am starting to believe he is right about most things. Weirdo.

“Never. I am kind of hoping to stay. I mean we did sleep together, so I assume we are getting married? I mean my Father will have words if you don’t make an honourable man out of me.”

He can’t pull that shit off, stifling giggles under his breath and spluttering tea when I reluctantly laugh.

“You are so fucking weird.” My mouth says, and he laughs, “Ditto.” right back at me.

“I like you, Pontus. I mean all thistreat people with kindness, alt er lovemodernistic hipster shite? You have bite. And you don’t give a fuck and I can respect that. But, let’s just agree that we like each other and get on. Okay?”

“You said, no attraction. You said you didn’t like me and now you do? Alt er love? Did you watch that damn show?”

“No?” He suddenly looks a little embarrassed.

“You should have. It was good, full of uptight wankers, but it was all right.”

I say. Freely admitting to a naked bloke that I watched some romantic teen series and cried over a couple of dudes in love, and Louis looks a little flushed.

“My mum was obsessed with it, which meant I refused to watch it.”

That makes me laugh, which is strange.

“Teenage rebel, you.” I giggle. Then I take a gulp of my tea and want to spit it right out, but I am a grown up and swallow it down like a good boy. Then my mind goes straight in the gutter, thinking about swallowing that damn fine cock down my throat. It’s hard not to when it’s right there, staring at me with it’s little eye.

“Would you watch it with me?” He says, looking bloody sincere and now I am blushing. Because. Ehhrm.

“I have the latest Fast and Furious?” I counter, a little too fast as I sit up and adjust my dressing gown belt. I must not get a boner. I mustnotget a boner. He has a very nice dick and I want to suck it. I mustNOTget a boner.

“Cars and chicks and idiots being all hyper manly? Nah. I’m good thanks. “

And now I have insulted him.

“Okay, we can watch the damn Alt er Love thingy. Do we need to start from the beginning?” Why the hell am I letting him get his way? What is wrong with me?

“Haven’t seen any of it. Although mum says Season 3 is the gay one, isn’t it?”

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