“That’s her natural hair color.”
Is he daft? “You’re so full of shite right now.” I laugh. “Like hell it is.”
Stewart considers this, staring blankly at the floor before looking back up at me. “Yeah, you’re probably right. It does seem really red.”
No shite, Sherlock.
That girl’s hair is a technicolor nightmare.
“So Georgia Peach is moving in this weekend? What day?”
I ignore his nickname for her with a frown. “Well…she already has a key and the door codes, and some of her stuff is already in the bedroom, but officially I think Saturday.”
“It’ll be just like one big slumber party.”
“It’s going to be the exact opposite of a slumber party,” I grumble, annoyed.
“Lies. You’re living with a girl now. Allie will come over and stay for days, and it’s like living with a wife.”
“Living with Georgia is not going to be like living with a wife. She’s paying rent, you blighter.”
“What are you going to do if you accidentally see her naked?”
Now why did Andy have to go and say a thing like that? I hadn’t thought about it, nor should I, but now that he’s brought it up…
“Nothing.” I’ll do nothing. And besides, “She has her own bathroom, so it’s never going to happen.”
“Right. Sure it’s not.”
It’s clear neither of them believe me based on the looks they’re shooting each other.
“I don’t think of her like that.”
She’s pretty and all, but I’m not a walking, raging hormone; I can control my thoughts and my dick.
“Sure you don’t think of her like that.” They roll their eyes. “And I’m Father Andy and he’s Friar Tuck and we’re all just a bunch of monks doing the lord’s work.”
“Speak for yourself, dickwad,” Stewart argues. “I ain’t no monk.”
“Okay, so…” Andy goes on. “What if she’s accidentally naked in the kitchen when you come home?”
Andy is such an idiot. “First of all, why would she be naked in the kitchen?”
“She was showering and got hungry.”
As if that makes perfect sense.
“I would walk back out of the room so she could put clothes on.”
“Okay, but what if she sleepwalks into your room at night?” He seems to be enjoying this game of make-believe, dreaming up scenarios that are never going to happen, not in a million years. Isn’t stopping him though.
“Who sleepwalks anymore?”
“I sleepwalk,” he boasts.
“Since when?”
He thinks, eyebrows furrowing. “Oh! Once when I was seven, I got up in the middle of the night and pissed in the bathroom cabinets all over my sister’s hairspray and makeup.”
“So, fifteen years ago.” He’s exhausting me now. “Good story, bro.”
“Maybe I still do and no one is around to tell me,” he reasons.
“The point is, Georgia isn’t going to sleepwalk into my room. You’re delusional.”
“Don’t tell me that isn’t your fantasy.”
“I’m going to lock my bedroom door to make sure it doesn’t happen.” Ha ha.
“You wouldn’t dare.” Stewart looks horrified.
Finally, I rise from the bench, reaching for my water bottle and towel, standing, planting a hand on my hip. “Are you helping me or not?”
“Yeah.” Andy grins. “I’ll help you.”
We have her moved in no time. She had less stuff than I did when I moved here to the States, and we didn’t end up needing anyone’s help but our own to get the rest of her things moved inside.
Standing at the threshold of her bedroom door, I watch as she glances around the room then groans.
“Ugh, I don’t have sheets for a double bed! I’m such an idiot!”
The bed is already made with the things Mum bought—throw pillows and all—and I point to the setup, confused. “What’s wrong with this stuff?”
My new roommate looks crestfallen. “I can’t use your stuff. That’s so rude—I’m already taking advantage of your hospitality.”
“This isn’t hospitality. You’re paying rent.”
Rent I’ve given her grace on, which I’ll receive once her reimbursement check comes from the university registrar’s office.
“Still. I totally forgot. I’ve been racing around like a maniac with practice and meets and school, and I spaced on running to grab new sheets. I only have this stupid twin size.”
I’ve no idea why she’s so frazzled, but she needs to chill. “You’re stuck with these until you get to Target, so unless you fancy sleeping on the bare mattress, I suggest you relax.”
She watches me silently, then breaks into laughter. “God you are so British.”
“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”
“Sorry, you just sound so serious and your sentences are so proper. It’s nice. I wasn’t being a jerk.”
She’s smiling, so I believe her.
“I won’t bug you—holler if you need anything.”
“Oh hey, Ash?” I pause in the doorway as she calls my name. “Thank you.”
A nod is all I give her before moving down the hall to my own room, keeping it open on the off chance she does need something or has a question but going into my closet to change out of my sweatpants and into shorts and a tee so I can hang and watch TV before bed.