A few hours later, all my things are in the room. We centered the rug on the floor, and it lies under a bed that we’re almost done assembling.
Currently, Jason’s sprawled on my floor mechanic-style as he screws the sideboards to the headboard. I’m holding the two pieces together for him like I’m at a perfume counter handing out samples.
While all I want to do is straddle him. I mean, he’s just lying there on his back, waiting to be ridden.
Down, boy, I scold myself, and adjust my jeans.
In addition to a library’s worth of books, Jason helped haul up the mattress and the dresser. Navigating the stairs with the box spring turned out to be tricky, but we managed not to punch a hole in it or the walls, so I count that as a win.
Plus, I got to see his biceps flex. Bonus.
“I’m normally not this much of a wuss,” I say, as I hold the pieces together while he uses the drill. “I, you know, lift weights and stuff.”
That’s a lie.
“No,” I admit instantly. “But I like to run. And if you take me out, I’ll dance with you.”
I expect him to tell me he doesn’t take men out, but instead he asks, “How were you going to move all this in without me?” With a big hand, he gestures to everything piled in my new room.
My first thought is that I never want to do anything without him ever again. But that might be coming on a tad strong, especially since he’s my landlord.
Like that’s the only reason not to flirt with him. I might as well flirt with a mirror—then at least I’d know I was talking to a gay boy.
I shrug. “I suppose I’m like Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire. ‘I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers.’”
His voice drops an octave and gets even gruffer. I had no idea that was possible. “My pleasure. I’m happy to help.” He sits up and dusts his hands off. “All done. Now you’ve got a place to sleep.”
“Or do other things.”
Shit. I said that out loud. In a singsong voice.
Change the subject, Murph.
Jason only smiles and gazes at me like I’m some fascinating specimen. Like he doesn’t know what to do with me.
It’s an almost indulgent look, and it makes me really happy.
“Am I keeping you from something? Work?” A girlfriend? Yeah, I’m fishing and deflecting. Two of my many talents that involve my tongue.
But I don’t want the confirmation about women. Not yet. Let me have at least one day of fantasy.
“No.” He starts tugging the box spring onto the bed frame. I guess I should help instead of standing here watching his back muscles tango under his shirt. Together we maneuver the box spring into place and set the mattress on top. “Took the afternoon off to help my new roommate move in.”
“I’m gonna tell your sister you played hooky. She said you work too much.”
He closes his eyes and smiles like he’s going to throttle her the next time he sees her. “She’s always on me about that. I’m fine. But no, I’m not working for the rest of the day.”
“And you’ve spent your day off helping me move. Thank you.”
I like the way he says that. So many people say, “No problem,” but that implies that whatever you thanked them for could be a problem.
Being Jason’s pleasure, though?