Page 37 of Flagrant Foul
They’re fucking snug, that’s all I can say, and they’re so short that when he turns around, I’m treated to a lobotomizing view of his ass. His ass on a good day is enough to make me weak. On a bad sky-blue boxer brief day with a hint of two half-moons of butt cheek peeking at me, it’s almost too much.
“Nope,” he says. “I’m fine, thanks. I told you before that I don’t really feel the cold. If you’re cold, I can turn the heat up for you.”
There’s no need. It’s balmy in here, and God knows, I’m hot under the collar.
“I’m okay. I’m just worried you’ll get sick,” I lie.
He puts his hand over his mouth and makes a cute sound.
“Sev,” he says sweetly, “Did you know that when you lie, you look left before you speak?”
He smiles and darts his eyes up and to the left to show me what he means before bringing them back to me. For some idiotic reason, that’s cute too. Embarrassing and cute because it’s unnerving as hell that he knows me so well.
“I don’t mind when you lie to me, especially about this because I know it means you’re looking, but it’s worth bearing in mind when you play poker and things like that.”
I choose not to dignify that with an answer.
I take a deep breath, and as I breathe out, I relax my eyes to soften my focus. A mercifully blurred Teddy makes his way from the left to the right of the room, and I manage not to react. He picks up whatever it was that he walked over to get and then walks from the right of the room to the left. His ass cheeks bunch and relax as he moves. Glutes engage and extend. Engage and extend.
Each time it happens, a little more flesh peeks out at me.
Eventually, I crack. “I think you should put some pants on.”
“But I’m comfortable like this.” His lips curl and he blitzes me with a dazzling faux-innocent smirk. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”
“I want you to be happywithpants on,” I grind out.
Bells chime, ringing as clearly as bells on a Sunday morning.
I look down at my phone in my hand and attempt to type yet another message to Nate.
Bro, we have a problem. I don’t think this living arrangement is gonna work out.
I delete it and try again.
Seriously, bro. I think maybe I should find somewhere else to live. Lockie’s not all that bad. Tee can handle him.
Fuck no!There’s no way I can send that. Lockie’s the fucking worst. There’s no way he can be trusted to live with Teddy. The guy was virtually sexually harassing Teddy in the locker room the other day. He’d lose his mind if he saw him in this skimpy fucking underwear. No. There’s no way I can allow that.
Nate would be so worried about Teddy if Lockie were living here. He’d never survive it. I can’t do that to him.
Teddy is standing at his fish tank by the time I look up.
Please God, don’t let him start playing with his fish.
Of course he does play with Ragnar. He loves his fucking fish and plays with him all the time. He says Ragnar likes it. He says the fish recognizes him and is happy to see him. He says Betta fish need stimulation and personal connection to keep them content. He calls itenrichment.
Sadly, watching him play with his goddamn fish might be the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
He trails his finger lightly along three sides of the tank. I still feel a low level of surprise, but every time Teddy does it, Ragnar does seem interested and follows Teddy’s finger as he moves it.
“Did you have fun at Mae’s?” Teddy murmurs, face pushed up near the tank. He waits for a beat, but naturally, Ragnar doesn’t answer. “Oh, Raggie. You’re such a beautiful asshole, d’you know that? If you weren’t so violent, I’d get you a friend. You could have so much fun playing together, but no, you’d fight them, wouldn’t you?” He raises his voice and talks to me over his shoulder. “He would, you know. Betta splendens fight to the death if you make them share a tank with another fish.” He turns back to Ragnar. “I’d never do it because I’d feel too sorry for those other fish. They wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”
Please, Lord. I’m tired.
“Come see how happy he is to see me, Sev.”
I get up despite myself, or because of myself, and walk over. Between you and me, I’m one hundred percent sure no fish has ever been happy to see their owner. I don’t think they give a shit about people. I doubt they’d even notice if a different person fed them every day of their lives. I’ve told Teddy this several times.
