Page 26 of Run, Run, Roommates
Her eyes close again, either not sold on the idea of eating my cookies or falling victim to the comfortable lounger.
“Oh no you don’t.” I grab her ankle and lift her foot up.
Brin sits up in protest, instantly waking up a bit more. “Whoa. No need to do anything hasty.”
I wrestle her boot off. “Marco,” she warns. “Don’t do it.” She tries to tug her foot away but my grip is too solid.
“I’m sitting here thinking, what would wake you up even more than coffee? After all, coffee has this horrible flaw that you have to actually transport it to your mouth.” Her boot comes off and I have a free hand to mime drinking coffee. “That sounds too hard for you first thing in the morning.”
“Marco!”
I hook that foot under my arm, facing away from her, and pinch the toe of her sock. “But this seems like an effective method.” With a smooth tug, the sock comes off.
Brin thrashes now in earnest, already laughing even though I haven’t touched her foot yet. I only accidentally discovered that the soles of her feet are super ticklish a few months ago.
“Marco, I’m awake, I’m awake!”
I trace the lightest touch of my finger down the center of her sole and she convulses and squeals. Next thing I know, she’s tackling me from behind, trying to grab my wrists and pry me away with one hand while her other hand covers my eyes. She pokes me in my right eye, but it’s a small price to pay. Her laughter is right in my ear, loud and ringing and infectious.
“All right, all right,” I say, and let go of her foot, shifting to grip her thighs through her pajama pants before standing up with her on my back like a monkey. She stops wiggling, and instead rests her head on my shoulder. I bend over, careful not to drop her, and pick up her sock and shoe. I leave the coffee mugs . . . I’ll clean them up before William gets home.
“Ew, you’re touching my dirty sock.”
“You put it on like an hour ago, how dirty can it be?” I huff.
“A dirty sock is a dirty sock,” she says with gravitas, and then hums and nuzzles into my neck.
I’m not used to feeling this kind of happiness, especially over the holidays. The absence of my family is all too stark sometimes. But with Brin on my back, her sweet, warm breath on my cheek, my heart kicks inside my chest as I walk us to the sliding glass door and into the living room. It kicks so hard and so loud in my ears that it takes me a moment to realize we’re not alone.
14
Brin
Marco’s body beneath mine goes completely still. Over his shoulder, I see a couple, man and woman, at the entryway to the apartment. They are furiously making out, starting to strip each other’s clothes off.
“Ash,” Marco barks out, and the man tears himself away from the woman’s lips.
He’s older than Marco by a few years, so mid-thirties maybe. His shirt’s open so I can see the ripple of muscles that runs from neck to navel, which is completely hairless, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many ab muscles in one place.
I slip off Marco’s back. I don’t know who this guy is, but I don’t think he’s supposed to be here. But then again, are we really supposed to be here either? Marco said it was fine.
Ash’s eyes widen as he looks between me and Marco. There’s a tense moment between the two of them until Ash breaks and turns to the woman. “Don’t worry, they’re leaving.” He smirks at her.
“No, we’re not. You are.” Marco’s voice is hard, unwavering.
The woman looks at us, clearly debating about who to believe.
“Let’s go to your place,” Ash says.
The woman turns back to Ash. “Don’t you live here?”
“Yes,” Ash lies. “It’s fine.” He runs a hand down her arm and tries to push her down the hallway. “The room at the end. I’ll be in soon.”
“He won’t,” Marco growls. “Ash, you’re fired.”
Ash’s face morphs into an ugly sneer. “You can’t fire me.”
“Yes, I can?—”
