by J Marie
Her bottomless blue eyes sparkle more than any I have ever seen in my life. She highlights them with the same colors she uses in her rainbow-colored hair. I want to know what her regular color is under all that fake dye.
Mia makes me feel like I’ve been living in a hole in the ground. She’s so out there with her sex talk and her flirting—so far out of my league, it’s not even funny. It doesn’t make me want her any less, though. I knew exactly what she meant by that’s what she said earlier today, but I like the way she explains things to me. Watching as her tongue dips out to lick her lips between words.
It was a little awkward with all the penis talk, but I wasn’t planning on holding anything back from her. If she wanted to know how big my dick was, then I was going to tell her. My answer seemed to please her. My mind wanders to other things that may please her just as much.
I should feel guilty for all these primal thoughts and feelings toward her, but the opposite is true. She makes me feel alive for the first time in my life. Father and the compound taught us to believe that sin was death, the worst kind of evil. To look at a woman for too long was lustful and wrong. But how could something so simple be so evil?
How could one thought, or touch send someone to hell for eternity? Simple—it can’t. I’m choosing to ignore all the lessons I was taught growing up. Lord knows mama would have a heart attack if she knew what was going on in my mind or life. One look at Mia, and she’d start praying for my soul immediately. It didn’t matter though, because I hadn’t looked back once since I’d left. Not that I’d be allowed back even if I begged. I take another greedy look at Mia.
She moves effortlessly in the kitchen. I watch the dance her hips do as she walks. The red of her puffy lips as she holds it between her teeth like she’s in thought. The sliver of creamy skin that peeks out when she reaches to put the dishes she just washed away. I should offer to help, it’d be the gentlemanly thing to do, but I can’t seem to stop standing here.
It’s hard to believe that she’s real and standing right in front of me. The one thing I keep picturing is her being with me. Being mine. Growing old with her. Maybe it’s more of an obsession than a silly crush after a year, but I can’t help how I feel.
I shake my head to rid myself of those crazy thoughts.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I just moved in, no need to think about that now. She’s my endgame and I have all the time in the world to win the girl and build that white picket fence.
My brain is drowning in everything Mia, and clearly, it’s affecting my other thoughts, like buying sheets for my new oversized bed. The same bed I’d like to see Mia in… completely naked.
Stop.
I tell myself before I get yet another boner that I’ll have to figure out how to discreetly rid myself of.
I close my eyes and focus on the sugary sweet aroma of her apartment. It smells like a mixture of weed and cotton candy. The lit candles are probably the reason for at least one of these amazing smells, but my brain seems to think that it’s mostly her. Why am I wondering if she tastes just as sweet?
“I feel like this afternoon calls for celebration,” she says as she walks toward the back of the kitchen. I follow behind her, admiring the view.
What meets my eyes has me sucking in a breath. A full bar sits at the end of her kitchen—every type of liquor you could imagine plus wines.
“What kind of drink do you want? And don’t say blowjob… we know how that went down last time.” I laugh at her joke, embarrassed. Mia reaches for two lowballers in the cabinet above her, and her shirt rides up just enough to tease me again. A tempting sliver of her skin, a little more than last time, taunts me, and my legs move of their own volition, forgetting my place. I close my mouth stifling a groan from escaping. Desire stirs within me, sending all pertinent blood to the member below my belt.
Not good. Mia has always called to me, but this is another level. One where I feel like my need for her is only going to grow at this point. Well, my need isn’t the only thing growing for her.
What the hell am I going to do? I find myself thinking about this statement a lot lately. Shaking myself out of my own head, I ask already aware of the answer. “So, what do you normally do on Saturday nights?”
“You know this better than anyone, work. I’ll be leaving here shortly. Just because you’re off today doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” She winks at me before handing me a glass, of what, I’m not sure.
“But I thought you were off?” Confusion laces my question.
“I was, but Eddie called and asked if I could come in. Someone called off. I imagine it’s Sabrina.”
I nod. “So, what is this?” I say, sniffing the beverage.
She laughs. “It’s a dick sucker.”
I can’t hold in the moan that escapes my lips as I think about her doing that exact thing to me.
“So Brooks, I’ll need to leave here in a little bit. But first, I think we need to set some ground rules for you living here. You’ve had a roommate before but living with another guy is a little different than living with a girl.” Her flat tone leaves me almost worried about what’s going to come out of her mouth next.
“Um… okay.”
“First, you can’t come in here looking like sex on a stick and expect me to just do things for you. I’m not your girlfriend or your mom. Basic manners are a must. I need you to do your own laundry and help with dishes. I expect you to put the toilet seat down when you pee. If I walk in there one time and my bare ass is greeted by cold porcelain, we’re gonna have an issue. Like me yelling at you super early in the morning.”
I laugh, but she continues. Picturing it in my mind is fucking priceless. “If the toilet paper roll is empty, replace it. Don’t just leave it on top of the toilet paper holder. I may tend bar, but I won’t be tending to you. Unless… you ask for it. And by it… I mean sex. There are rules about that too, but we’ll swing back to those.”
She sighs. “I don’t cook, so don’t expect it. Just cause your momma made you homemade meals every night doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same. And eating out daily will certainly kill that boyish figure, so I don’t recommend that either.”
My chest rises in a laugh and my dick twitches at her insulting tone. “Hunny, there ain’t nothing about me that’s a boy anymore.”
I’d love to know how much, she mumbles under her breath. I roll back on my heels, my attempts at flirting crashing and burning miserably. I take a minute to take in the room around me more intently. It’s completely Mia in a nutshell.
Sketches line the black coffee table, and though I try to resist the urge to walk over and snoop, my feet lead me anyhow. Her easel sits in the corner with a half-painted canvas, another abstract piece. A joint sits in an ashtray to the side of her brushes, and I wonder what it’s like to get high for a minute. I have—well- had friends that smoked back home when we were out from under the watchful eye of our parents but never tried it myself.
The thing I find most interesting is that there are no photos of her with her family in any place that I’ve seen so far. It makes me wonder if her relationship with her parents is strained much like my own. I take one more glance around before realizing how comfortable I feel in her space. Like I’m meant to be here. I want Mia to feel the same way.
“You know, this is not what I expected when I met you. You being an artist with a penchant for smoking joints.”
She quirks her eyebrow. “What exactly did you expect?”
“I’m not entirely sure… not saying that I don’t like it by any means, but it’s…” A weird look flashes across her face and I kill my thoughts instantly. “I’m just going to stop talking now.” The last part comes out as a mumble as a smile forms on her lips.
“I like clean lines, black and white, yes or no. There is no in between and blurry colors mixing up things in real life, but with paint, I can let it all explore.”
My eyes immediately go to her hair, and I raise an eyebrow. He
r eyes follow the path mine have just led and she smirks. “This doesn’t apply. I’d rather look at colorful hair than dull blonde hair.”
“Well, I think you’d look great in either.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “If I didn’t know any better, Brooks, I’d say you were being sweet to get into my pants or something.”
A smile forms across my lips. “Nah, just raised with manners. What I really want to say to you isn’t appropriate for the situation.” I want to say all types of things to her about how gorgeous she is and how I want to make her mine. Not to mention all the dirty things I want to do to her, but I refrain.
“Sometimes, manners are really the pits. Don’t you ever feel like breaking out of those dreadful bonds of politeness every once in a while? Letting the truth spill from your lips like the softest velvet.”
I want to. So badly, but my brain won’t open my mouth to process the thoughts I truly want to let slip.
“So…” I say, trying to get my mind off those certain things, which will ultimately lead to an unnecessary tenting in my pants. “Where did you come up with the idea for a black, white, and grey interior design like this?”
“Oh, um… Pinterest. I pin things entirely too much. My friend, Macy, got me into it a couple years ago, and I’ve been doing it ever since. To say I’m obsessed is probably the understatement of the century.”
I blink at her. “What’s a Pinterest?” We have the internet where I came from, but I’ve never heard of such a thing and I want to know everything that I possibly can about Mia.
She giggles. “It’s like this site with a whole bunch of picture ideas on how to design, what recipes to cook, crafts, and so on. You can basically pin things you like which means saving them to a list to go back and look at later on. Sometimes I find inspiration for paintings and sculptures there too. I lose myself for hours on end, just looking at pictures.” I’ve noticed a few sculptures spread throughout the room. She pulls out her phone and quickly shows me what’s on her own Pinterest. It doesn’t seem like my thing, but if she likes it then so be it.
She puts her cell phone back in her pocket and looks up at me. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”
“To be honest, I’m not really sure what I like to do. When I was growing up, I fancied working with wood pieces. It was one of the few things where I didn’t have everyone around. I’d go out to our shed and whittle away the afternoon once my chores were done. I could turn on my music and get lost in the craftsmanship of making something out of nothing, I suppose.”
“I totally get that. Taking something so simple and creating a design or a sculpture that you made with your own two hands without the help of anyone else. It’s about feeling oneness with your creation. I guess it’s a weird thing to explain out loud, but I get what you’re saying.”
I nod.
“So… where are you from? You’re pretty closed lipped about it. Is it a secret or something? Wait, are you in the witness protection program or do you like… work for the CIA?”
A chuckle slips past my lips before my thoughts run cold, dark. Thinking about that place gives me the creeps. The leaders were in charge of who you hung out with, how you lived, what job you would have within the compound. They chose who you would marry, who would be best suited to make a stable life partner—whether you wanted one or not. I fight the urge to curse it, like every time I think about it. I grit my teeth. “Frazier’s Creek, Tennessee.”
She purses her lips. “Where is that?”
“It’s in the middle of a nowheresville mountain range.”
“How in the hell did you end up in Ithaca, New York?”
“Honestly, a dart on a map.” Thinking about it makes unease creep into my chest. The compound has a group of guys that work as security, looking for anyone who might try to escape the clutches of their reach. Anyone who might share the secrets and inner workings of the assembly. It’s why I ran in the middle of the night with just a duffel bag to my name.
But at this point, I’m a lost soul, spiritually dead. I no longer have the Lord’s protection, and I’m supposed to have a life of misery. I’m gone to the outside world of sinners and non-believers. I didn’t leave a way to trace myself. Plus, once you leave, you’re shunned for good. They’ve disowned me.
“So, it’s just you?”
“Yep, family and I cut ties a while ago.” I don’t tell her the real reason.
“Huh,” is the only thing that comes from her mouth. I’m glad that she doesn’t continue to question me about it. I feel like maybe she’d feel the same way if I started asking her questions. We’ve both worked at Topsy Turvy for a year, but I still feel like I don’t know anything about her life, which is obvious. I had no idea that she was a painter or a sculptor. I didn’t know either that she was amazing at it. It makes me wonder why she works at the bar when she’s got this much talent.
“So, what about you?” I ask getting the attention off of me. “Have you lived here your whole life?”
Her small smile lights the corners of her face. Happy memories blooming, hopefully. “Nope, I moved here for Cornell and ended up staying for my best friend. I love it here.”
Her words give me a sense of hope. A sense that this life could be mine. That I could fit into a place that is as supportive and charming as this college town. It’d be something I’ve never felt—the feeling of belonging and being one with a group of people.
My confidence since I got here has definitely grown. Back home, I was taught what to say and what not to say and if you spoke out, chances were you’d come to regret it. So, I’d learned to stand back and not say anything. People here speak their minds and say what they want. I feel like I’ve started doing it more than I used to, except for when it comes to Mia. I certainly stumble all over myself with her.
“I’m glad you fit in this town, Mia. Topsy Turvy would certainly be lost without you. Eddie wouldn’t know what to do without his best bartender.”
“Psshhhhhh…. I think you give me a run for my money, Brooks.”
I shake my head and smile. She fits in here like a glove and thinking about gloves makes me think about wanting her mouth fitting around me like a glove. I feel like such a pervert being around her so much. I’m afraid that if we ever slept together, my inner caveman would come out, and I’d say things I couldn’t take back. Mia makes me feel like a teenage boy again. Like I’m ready to explode at any moment.
“So,” she says, her voice bringing me out of my sick thoughts and back to the present. “Why bartending?”
“Believe it or not, many people don’t want to hire someone who has little more than a high school diploma. I have zero past work experience. All my education was done within the compound, so no schooling records. Eddie was the first guy that offered me a job and I figured it seemed like something I could pick up easily.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “Do you not like bartending?”
I shrug. “I like it. The tips are good, decent, but I don’t think I want to do this for the rest of my life. At some point, I’d like to be able to support a family, and you know what they say, knowledge is power.”
“I get it. I probably won’t work at Topsy Turvy forever, but I’m not sure what else I would do.”
My eyes fly again to the painting on the wall I’d studied earlier. “I know what you would be really good at… have you ever sold your art?”
“No, didn’t think anyone would ever be able to appreciate it as much as I do. Each piece of art is a part of my soul and selling it would be like letting go of my child, especially if the person that bought it one day decided they didn’t like it. It would break my heart.”
Mia glances over at the clock. “Shit, I gotta go. First, more ground rules,” she says and taps her chin. “Use whatever you want. I’m not super picky about my stuff. Um…. What else?” She snaps her fingers before continuing. “Hmm… Oh, if you decide to have people over, a heads up is appreciated. If you’re getting jiggy with it, put a sock on the door. Pleas
e only masturbate in your room and if you do, at least close the door. Or don’t. If I come home and you’re jerking it with the door open, I’ll assume it’s an open invitation to join you.”
My eyes grow to the size of saucers as I look at her, confused as to whether she’s shitting with me or actually being serious. I bark out a laugh, and she pauses giving me a weird look. “What’s funny?”
“The fact that you think I’d have a party and not invite you… or that you think I would be getting jiggy, not sure what that means, with someone else.”
Her creamy white cheeks blush. “Well, the option is definitely open.”
I nod my head. “Duly noted.”
“We work opposite shifts, so the likelihood of us bumping into each other is slim. It’ll be like having your own place most of the time.”
My heart sinks. The whole point of this arrangement was to be near her. I rub at the hole in my heart, forming in my chest cavity and stare over her shoulder. Maybe I could ask Eddie to switch my shifts with someone, so we could at least work together.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
Her question breaks through the disappointment I’m feeling. “Nothing, it’s just that I kind of like having you around,” I admit it out loud.
“Awww, that’s sweet. I’m sure you’ll eventually get sick of me. Tell me that you don’t like my painting, or you can’t stand the fact that I smoke weed or…. I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll think of something. It happens more than you think.”
I scoff. “I highly doubt that.”
She ducks her face, however, I don’t miss the grin that spreads across it first. “Okay.”
“Anything else I need to know before you leave?”
Mia runs her hand through her brightly colored hair and looks around. “Oh, you’re going to need this too,” she says, dropping a key in my hand. “You know, in case you want to go out.” The weight of it in my hand feels significant. Her fingers tickle my palm as she pulls away, and I’m saddened by the loss of heat when she fully disconnects.
“Thanks for putting your trust in me to not snoop through all your stuff before you get home. And for everything.”
