Page 50 of The Downside of Love
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“Come on, are you really going to sulk all night?”
“Yes,” she says, rinsing her toothbrush in the sink.
Standing with my arms crossed over my chest, leaning against the doorframe, I study her and her getting ready for bed process. We’ve gotten comfortable enough with each other that we don’t need our privacy anymore. She has no problem knocking me over to get to the sink.
“It was plain as day; how could you have missed it?”
I beat Rory by one word.Elephantgot her, and it got her good. But when she tossed her paper at me, claiming the word wasn’t in the puzzle and the word search gods were trying to fuck around with her, I found it immediately . . . which only increased her anger.
“It was backwards diagonal. Those are impossible to find and shouldn’t be allowed in word search. Basically they spell words that way because the devil paid them to.”
“But don’t you think someone who is a step above a novice when it comes to word search puzzles would know to look for a backward diagonal word?”
“Your reasoning is making me want to jam my fist into your neck.”
Not expecting that, I laugh out loud, head thrown back. When I open my eyes and my head falls forward, I almost expect to find an even more pissed-off Rory. But instead, her eyes are softer and the tightness in her jaw is gone.
She puts her toothbrush in the holder and faces me. “I like when you laugh.”
“Yeah?” Arms still crossed, I face-off with her casually, the doorframe holding up my weight.
“Yeah, I like this side of you. Fun and teasing, reminds me of the Stryder I first met. I’ve missed him.”
A little stunned, I uncross my arms and move into the bathroom, past her. Not wanting to get too serious, I line my toothbrush with toothpaste and say, “He never went anywhere, you know. You’re just finally funny.”
Her eyes widen, her mouth falls open, the corners of her lips tilt up in humor. Playfully she pushes my arm, but it doesn’t even make me budge. “Oh, you did not just say that.”
I chuckle, shrug my shoulders and start brushing my teeth, letting the foaming toothpaste build up in my mouth, making it impossible to talk.
She shakes her finger at me, a humorous smile still playing on her gorgeous lips. “How dare you blame your moodiness on my ability to be funny? I’m a hoot, but you just have a boot shoved so far up your ass you’re in a constant state of uncomfortable.”
That makes me laugh . . . and hard, spitting toothpaste into the sink. Chuckling, I rinse and dry my mouth.
“You think I have a boot up my ass?”
“Yeah, giant size, like Shaq size.” She holds her arms out incredibly wide, giving me an idea of what size shoe she’s talking about. I roll my eyes with humor.
I move past her and out of the bathroom while reaching behind me and pulling my shirt over my head, leaving me in my black low-slung athletic shorts. It’s hot as balls in here tonight thanks to the summer heat, so it’s taking a while for the apartment to cool down even with the windows open.
When I turn around, Rory’s eyes are plastered to my chest, while her little body takes my place against the doorframe; the light of the bathroom makes her look like a goddamn angel. It doesn’t take long for her to shake off her staring, but not before I notice her perusal from my pecs to my abs.
“If anyone has a shoe up their ass, it’s you,” I say, breaking up the silence that fell between us the minute I took off my shirt. My comment snaps her out of it.
“Excuse me? How on earth do I have a shoe stuck up my ass?” She pushes off the bathroom door, turns off the light, and walks toward me fuming, ready to argue.
I shrug again, chuckling. “You refuse to watchHouse of Cardswith me.” Not a good reason, but it was the first thing I could think of.
She holds up her hand as she steps up next to me. “Besides the fact that your point has nothing to do with our little debate here, why on earth would I want to start a TV show when I know the main character ends up getting taken out because he’s a perv? Makes no sense.”
She’s got a point.
“And the reason why you won’t throw your laundry in with mine?”
“Mixing laundry is just asking for trouble. What if you accidentally take one of my shirts.” I eye her glitter-face shirt and then look back at her.
“That’s not going to be a problem.”
