Out On a Limb(43)

Then I’m spending a little over three dollars to download issue one hundred and eighty-one onto my phone. All for the sake of getting to know Bo and his interests better, of course.

Not at all to see the horny aliens fuck.





CHAPTER 16





I stayed up half the night reading old issues of The Annihilator and paid for it this morning when my eyes had to fight to open at the sound of my alarm. I don’t have work today, but I should spend a few hours this morning unpacking and settling in before Bo arrives home. It’s one thing to have boxes or plants piled up in my bedroom, but I don’t want them in the kitchen or living room, taking up too much space and getting in his way.

And just as I load my last mug from the final kitchen box into the dishwasher, the front door beeps and hums as it unlocks, announcing Bo’s return.

“Hello,” he calls out, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey,” I reply, filling the dishwasher with detergent, grinning to myself. “I’m in the kitchen,” I add.

When I shut the dishwasher and turn around, Bo’s leaned against the archway, his coat folded over his arm and a canvas duffel bag in his grasp. “Hey, roomie,” he says, his smile wide and downright contagious.

“Welcome home,” I say, bowing into a stupid little curtsy that I immediately regret. “You have a great place.”

Bo’s eyes fall over my shoulder, admiring the plants I’ve hung in front of the kitchen window. “I like the plants,” he says. “Out there too.” He points to the living room with a thumb over his shoulder.

“Not too many?” I ask, grimacing.

He shrugs, as if to appear indifferent, but a quick twitch of his lips gives him away. “Not at all,” he forces out, his pitch wavering.

“Oh god… it’s too many.”

“It’s certainly more than I was expecting, but I like them. Promise.”

“I did try to warn you,” I say, grabbing a cup of ice. “Also, this was a great surprise.”

“A fridge?” he asks, switching his bag between hands.

I huff out a laugh. “No, dingus. The ice maker.”

“Did you just call me a dingus?”

“If the dingus-shoe fits.” What the fuck am I saying? I shouldn’t try to be funny or flirt on next to no sleep. Not that I’m attempting to flirt. That would be foolish of me… right? Right.

I look at his luggage, then back at his face, focusing on the dark circles under his eyes. “Sorry. Uh, I’ll let you get settled. Did you want some coffee, maybe? If I make some?”

He hums. “Yes, I’d love one. Thank you. Do you need the bathroom before I take a shower?”

“Nope, go ahead.”

Twenty minutes later, I finish making Bo a red eye, with the help of his very fancy espresso machine. And as if he smelled it, he promptly appears from the bathroom, wearing grey basketball shorts, a beige hoodie, and glasses. Black thin-framed glasses that his damp-darkened hair dips below on the right side.

I damn near swallow my tongue.

As if we needed to add glasses to this powder keg of hormones I used to call my body.

“Order up,” I say, presenting him with his coffee in a clear glass mug.

“You’re the best, thank you.” He takes a long sip, his head falling back as he moans. “Espresso too?”

“You looked tired,” I reply shyly while he hums his appreciation again.

“Seriously, you are the best.”

“What’s your plan for the day?” I ask, pulling some carrot sticks out of the fridge to snack on and dropping them into a bowl.

“I have today off since I was sort of working all weekend. What about you?”

I cover my mouth to avoid spewing bits of carrot at him as I speak. “The café is closed on Mondays. I was thinking about going for a walk to the beach before I hang out with Sarah later. Did you know you only live a ten-minute walk from one of the prettiest beaches with the most e-coli contaminated water in Southern Ontario?” I ask.

“The fish come out with an extra eye, but man, the view is beautiful,” Bo replies, turning around to leave the kitchen.

“Also, I have a confession,” I say, following him toward the living room, carrying a glass of water and a bowl of carrot sticks in the crook of my wrist. He lowers onto the armchair in the corner, gently moving a leaf of my fern away from his neck and tucking it behind the chair before he settles back into the seat. I take the couch. “I stole your mail.”

“Theft on day one? Way to come out swinging,” he says, smirking. “I respect it.”

“The Annihilator,” I say, flaring my hands for dramatic effect. “A surprisingly great read.”

Bo’s smirk turns into a full-fledged, lopsided grin, his eyes dancing around my face. “You actually read it?”

“I did, and then I fell down a rabbit hole and read about a dozen others before passing out last night. Had to download a reading app on my phone to do it. I committed.”

“They’re all in my room. You could’ve saved yourself the money.”

“Ah, well, I-I didn’t want to invade your space. More than I have already…” I say, wincing.

He scowls playfully. “You’re not invading anything.” He takes a long sip of his coffee, and I find great satisfaction in watching him sway from side to side as he drinks it—as if he’s never tasted anything so delicious. “But I suppose if you didn’t venture into my room yet, I should warn you that I’m a bit of a—”