Page 2 of Beautiful Crazy

I clear my throat and sniffle as softly as I can, so my roommate doesn’t worry and open the door to see that I’m literally standing here, crying in the shower, with my dick in my hand.

“Yeah, I’m good. Be right out.”

I turn the nozzle to the off position and grab my towel hanging just outside the shower on the wall and rake it over my reddened skin. The mirror is completely fogged as is the bathroom window. Guess I was under the hot water longer than I thought.

But not long enough to feel any better.

Once I have myself dried off, although still sticky thanks to the humidity in the room, I slide on my boxers and a pair of shorts and swing open the door only to find the steam from my shower has billowed down the short hall and into the kitchen.

My brows pinch as I inhale a deep breath, realizing the fog surrounding me isn’t fog at all.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Emily’s whispered curses travel down the hallway. I shake my head, slightly amused, with a better understanding of what’s really going on out here. I take a few more steps toward the kitchen, hoping it’s not burning down, and find Emily scurrying through the living room and throwing open every window she can reach, a frazzled look on her face.

“I’m sorry, Emm!” she says with a cute half smile. “I think I burnt the chicken.”

She thinks she burnt the chicken?

The smoke wafting from the frying pan along with the scent of charred food tells me I’m pretty sure Emily Chesney gives a whole new meaning to the words Kentucky fried.

I make sure to give Emily a sympathetic smile before I help push open the two kitchen windows and grab a tea towel, fanning the smoke toward the windows.

“Did you have the oil up too high again?”

Her shoulders slump, and she throws her arms out to her sides. “Well one would have to be smart enough to remember oil in the first place before she can have it up too high. I knew I was forgetting something.”

Although she means well, a future star chef, Emily is not. In the few years we’ve lived together we’ve had to purchase three new frying pans, two cookie sheets, two casserole pans, and at least a dozen spatulas. It’s cute that she tries so hard though, so I don’t hold it against her.

“Meh. Easy mistake. I almost put the milk away in the pantry this morning. It happens.”

She lays her metal tongs on the spoon rest. “I just know you had a bad day and thought maybe some comfort food would help you feel better.” She picks up a piece of charred chicken off a plate sitting next to the stove. “But these chicken tenders are basically chicken bricks so unless you feel like shelling out a butt load of money for new teeth, I guess we’re dining on a bowl of steamed peas and carrots for dinner.”

I lower the towel in my hand and look at my slightly defeated roommate. I get a squeezy feeling in my chest and muster up a smile for her because even though there’s no food on the planet that could make me feel better right now, I know she means well, and I appreciate her efforts.

“How about I order some Chinese and we can mix those peas and carrots into our fried rice.”

“Good idea.” She nods, watching me from the other side of the kitchen. When I don’t say anything, she tilts her head and almost whispers, “I’m really sorry about your dad.”

“Yeah…I’m sorry I dumped that all on you and then…”

Jacked off in the shower so that I could feel anything other than the pain of a shattered heart.

She shakes her head. “No, don’t apologize. I can only imagine what you must be feeling. Just…you know, don’t feel like you have to put on a front with me. You’re my best friend. You’ve seen me through one heartache after another. I know this is different than a break-up with a pompous asshole, but I’m here for you.”

She steps over and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug, her head leaning on my chest, and I hug her back. The scent of apples wafts through my nose when I smell her shampoo. It reminds me of home and the annual Fall Festival held there every year. Bardstown, Kentucky, might be a tiny little place, but they know how to celebrate the fall season. “I know you are, Em. I guess I should just apologize now for all the times I’ll probably break down between now and…you know, the end.”

“Never an apology needed. You know that. It’s going to get worse before it gets better, Emmett, but we’ll get through it together. I’ll be right by your side the whole time. Whatever you need.”

I kiss the top of her head, a gesture that has become as normal as a high five for us, and squeeze her a little tighter. “I’m lucky to have you in my life, Emily Chesney.”

“Did you know that in your lifetime you form three hundred and ninety-six friendships but only one out of twelve actually sticks?”

I chuckle against her. If there’s one thing I adore about Emily, it’s her penchant for weird and very random facts and her ability to pull them out of her ass at random times. Just this week I learned that penguins do indeed have knees, the life expectancy of a rubber band is seven years, and out of all fifty states, not one of them uses the letter Q.

“Are you saying you’re one in twelve for me?”

She shrugs against me. “Or maybe you’re one in twelve for me…hmm…I wonder how we figure that out.”

“Maybe we’re just one out of twelve for each other.”

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