Page 7 of The Ground Beneath Our Feet
I tentatively walked around, feeling funny. He’d said it was okay to go in, but intruding on someone else’s space felt uneasy. I reminded myself that it was my space now.
The kitchen, through a pocket door, had been redone, but redone well, with great appliances and a vintage style. I immediately loved it, but I also immediately did not love the dirty dishes stacked on all counters. There were at least four water bowls for animals on the floor. I couldn’t see the top of the large, dark-green painted farmhouse kitchen table because of the scattered newspapers and magazines. I took a closer look. Track and Field, Farm and Ranch, Spirituality Today, Dog Fancier, the L.A. Times, Maxim, and Penthouse.
My eyes widened. Male roommate. Monica was right.
I walked back into the living room and took a tentative step up the wooden staircase, which groaned loudly as I walked. In fact, the house creaked with every step I took. Guess this was what it would be like living in a house that was getting near 150 years old.
When I got to the top and stopped, the creaking noise continued. Someone was home. Rounding the landing, I went to my door and opened it.
In the afternoon sunshine, I saw a tan, toned male butt thrusting on a bed between the chubby knees of a woman. His short, spiky dark hair glistened. The muscles of his broad back flexed with the exertion. She moaned, “Fuck me harder, Mikey,” and I froze in horror.
Eek! He wasn’t supposed to be here! He’d told me he’d be gone!
I let out a shriek.
“Ahhhhhh!!!!!” The man twisted his well-defined torso around, and dark brown eyes locked on mine. Muscles, tattoos, dark hair.
I stared. He was unbelievably handsome.
“What the fuck?” yelled the female.
I woke up from the trance his gaze had put me in, hastily shut the door, and ran downstairs, creaking all the way.
I’d just walked in on my new roommate doing the nasty.
Ohmigod I was such an idiot.
I’d never live this down.
I had to leave.
Now.
