Page 61 of Hot Doggin'
“I’m not worried about basic. I’m worried about what comes after. The idiot enlisted as infantry. He didn’t pick a specialty even though I drilled that shit into him. It increases his chances of getting called up.”
I bump his shoulder with mine. I’d like to put my arm around him, but I don’t want him to freak out and pull away. Cause that shit would sting. “Whatever comes his way, we’ll deal with it together. And we’ll be there for your sister.”
He looks amused. “Together?”
“That’s what I said.”
Stiles sits a little straighter. He likes the together thing.
Look at us, navigating an uber-healthy, but super secret straight to gay relationship that we really haven’t even discussed in depth, and are basically winging it on the fly. But we’re nailing it.
We’re like, relationship gurus, or some shit.
I pull the truck to a stop in front of Stiles’s garage, and climb down. He's bent over a bike, and I’ve got a great view of his ass inhis worn jeans, covered in grease stains and dirt. They hug him just right. His shirt rides up, showing off a glimpse of the top of his crack. Visions of sliding my tongue along that crack to see where it leads fill my head with inappropriate thoughts, and I’ve got to adjust myself before one of his coworkers busts me.
I don’t know if it’s a best friend thing or a boyfriend thing. Maybe both, but when he spots me, Stiles's face breaks into a huge, silly grin, a lot like the one I’ve been wearing for days. No, weeks!
“What are you doing here?” Then his smile falls. “Did I miss an appointment? Something for the house?”
“No. Relax. You get off soon and I thought we could check out some places.”
He wipes his hands off on a rag and tucks it back in his pocket. “I thought you liked the one we saw the other day.”
We’ve been calling it the Pigeonhole, ‘cause it’s on Pigeon Lane, but he must have forgotten already.
“I do. But Riggs sent me the name of his realtor. I called her up today and she got in touch with the listing agent for Pigeonhole. They can’t show it until next Tuesday, but she’d like us to check out some other stuff while we wait.”
“So, we’re meeting up with her now?”
“As soon as you’re ready.”
“All right. Let me go wash up and tell James I’m leaving.”
Cindy is waiting for us outside of the first house, but we’re just here to humor her because I can already tell it’s a no from the first glimpse. It's a townhouse. If I wanted to continue sharing walls with my neighbors, I would just stay put in my apartment.
“Just smile and nod,” I tell Stiles. “This place is a definite no-go.”
We walk through the townhouse, and I have to admit, it’s nice. Everything is brand new and clean as a whistle. I would even say a little too fancy for our taste. I turn on the faucet in the kitchen, but no water comes out.
“It’s not hooked up yet,” Cindy explains. “But check out the cabinets and drawers. They have that soft close feature so there’s no slamming.”
No slamming? I’ll be the judge of that. I start opening cabinets and drawers and shutting them as hard as I can, you know, kicking the tires. The face of the drawer falls off and clatters to the kitchen floor.
“Oops, sorry.” Stiles shoots me a what-the-fuck look. “What?” I whisper, “I barely touched it.” We make our way to the dining room, where the absolute ugliest chandelier almost knocks me in the head. “They hung this way too low.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be walking underneath it. There would be a table here,” Cindy explains.
“That makes sense.” I reach out to stop it from swinging back-and-forth, and one of the dangling crystals breaks off in my hand, while another drops to the tile and shatters into a thousand sparkling pieces. “Shit.” I hand Cindy the one in my hand that I saved. “That looks expensive.”
She smiles to cover her irritation. “No worries. Let's move on.”
“I’m gonna check out the bathroom,” Stiles calls, going his own way as we move into the living room.
I make small talk with Cindy about the French doors, the tiny-ass backyard, and the lack of a garage, and realize Stiles isn’t back yet. It takes about thirty seconds to check out the bathroom. He’s got to be actually using it.
But there’s no water! I bet he already forgot. Shit.
“I’m gonna check out that bathroom with Stiles.” I catch him as he’s coming out of the bedroom, re-buckling his belt. “Did you use the bathroom?” I whisper loudly.
