“Dude! What the fuck?”
Wood lurched forward, trying not to spit the last mouthful of juice all over the floor. He used the back of his hand to wipe the drops that’d slid into his beard. “Jesus. Don’t sneak up on me like that. I don’t like it.”
Trent crossed his arms over his chest and looked at him as if he was proud of himself. “Is that right? You know what I don’t like?”
A shit ton of things, and I’m sure you’re about to tell me one.
“Germs. You been here all of five minutes and you think you don’t need to use a cup?” Trent walked past him, reached inside one of the cabinets, took out a medium-sized red cup, and shoved it at his chest. “Here. We’re not that close that I wanna drink behind you.”
Wood set the empty container on the counter as he glared down at Trent. He took the cup without breaking their heated eye contact and dropped it in the sink. He made sure to keep his voice low and his tone measured. “There was only a small amount left. I didn’t think I needed to waste a cup just for—”
“You drank the last of my orange juice?” Trent glanced over at the carton.
Wood sighed and ran his hand through his hair, and Trent’s dark eyes followed the movement. They were standing close enough that he was able to see that Trent’s eyes weren’t as dark as he thought. They were more of a smoky amber, hooded by deep brown lashes. Wood slowly brought his hand down, and Trent fell back a few steps with a determined expression.
“We need to set some house rules. Right now.” Wood watched as Trent marched into the living room, opened a drawer in one of the side tables, and took out a spiral notebook and a black Sharpie.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. I understand. Don’t drink all the orange juice.” Wood tossed the empty container in the trash bin. “I got it.”
“Yeah, we do need rules, because it’ll keep one of us from getting in trouble.” Trent was barefoot, and he’d changed into a pair of loose sweatpants and a white tank top.
“Just one of us, huh?” Wood challenged. He tried not to stare at the way the thin material molded to his roommate’s nice chest. He made sure to busy himself with washing his hands so he didn’t get caught gawking. At first he thought Trent was as straight as an arrow, but in order to survive, Wood had spent the last decade mastering how to interpret the intent in a man’s eyes, and right now, he was getting some unique vibes. He watched Trent roughly scribble a sentence on the paper and tape it to the refrigerator. He leveled Wood with a warning glare that didn’t pack as much heat as the man thought and pointed at what he’d just written. Trent’s forearm flexed, and Wood felt his cock respond. Damn this man.
“Must use a cup or dish to eat and drink.” Trent glanced toward the stove. “You plan on getting a bowl and spoon, or were you gonna gulp the stew right out the pot?”
Wood inched closer, unable to help himself. Trent had so much attitude and spirit packed into a sexy-ass, compact body that he didn’t know where to start with his fascination. Wood wasn’t used to men mouthing off to him. “You got a real smart mouth, you know that?”
Trent smirked, seeming unfazed by Wood trying to use his size to move him. “So I’ve heard.”
Wood glanced down when Trent pressed his forearm into his stomach, allowing himself to be moved out of his way. “I guess you won’t be joining me for dinner.”
“Not tonight.”
“You sure?” Wood heard the lust in his voice.
“Enjoy.”
Wood assumed Trent’s door closing was his final answer, and he had to wait until his cock stopped pulsing before he could eat. So much attitude. How’d I get so lucky?
Chapter Five
Wood
Even though his new room was warm and Wood’s bed was comfortable, he hadn’t slept more than two hours the entire night. He’d fluctuated between unpacking his clothes and staring out the window at the empty backyard. He’d almost dozed off when he heard a soft melody coming from Trent’s room, but it’d stopped before he could enjoy it. Wood wasn’t used to the noises the trailer made in the middle of the night, and anytime he laid his head on the soft pillow and closed his eyes, his mind raced nonstop. He’d been removed from society in the early 2000s, and he’d come out in 2020 to a different world.
Wood turned on his television around five and figured he’d watch some local news before he got dressed for the day. He remembered one of the many group sessions he’d had on how to adapt to modern society and what to do when feeling overwhelmed. He made a small list of tasks that were important and on the forefront of his mind. There were so many things he needed and wanted to accomplish, but thinking about all of it at once was going to continue to keep him up at night. First things first, he needed to find a better job because eight dollars an hour just wasn’t going to cut it.