Something So Perfect (Something So 2)

These girls don’t want me; they want the jock. They want the NHL star. They want the claim to fame. But Karrie, she wants none of that. She’s so pissed off when I call her babe it makes me laugh, so now I do it to piss her off even more. She gets so pissed that the vein in her head tics, making me want to grab her by the back of her neck and kiss her till it stops.

Last night we sat down at supper and went over the ‘rules’.

“Okay, so we should have some ground rules since we’ll be roommates.” She started saying while she finished chewing. “I’ve never lived with a guy before, so I’m thinking we always knock when the door is closed.”

The thought of her living with another guy made me clench my fist. Made me almost want to push off from the table and go outside and yell till my throat was raw.

“Okay, must knock before walking into a closed door. But,” I said while taking a forkful of salmon, “what if you’re yelling for me because you’re naked and need my help? Do I knock first or just charge in?” I smirked while I saw the vein coming back.

“I doubt I’d need anything from you if I’m naked, but in that case please come charging in. There’s only one television in the house, so I think we should buy another one you can put upstairs in the office.”

“Why?” I asked her. “Can we not just watch television together? I don’t really watch it that much. I’m usually gone most of the time.” I smiled at her. “And now you will be, too.”

“I have a DVR and I record all my shows, so I’ll watch them when I come back home.” She pointed at me with her fork. “That’s another rule. No touching my DVR.”

I laughed at her while chewing. “I promise to not cancel or delete any of your Kardashians.” I smiled while I continued eating. “Are you a morning person?”

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“My mother can’t be talked to without at least smelling coffee. I’m just making sure I don’t die.”

She laughed at that, but she had not been on the end of my mother without caffeine.

“I guess I’m civil, but I do like coffee in the morning.” She started using her fork to push things in her plate around. “What about you?”

“Me?” I put my fork down. “I’m usually up by five a.m. I like to get a little cardio in before going to the rink. I usually have a protein shake after.”

“If you wake me at five a.m., with or without coffee, I will lock you out of the house.” She dropped her fork also. “There’s a paper list in the middle drawer in the kitchen. If you finish something in the fridge or the pantry, put it on the list. I guess we can do the shopping once a week. They have this great outside market not too far.”

“Done.” I didn’t think she realized we would hardly be home with the traveling.

“We should talk about dating,” she said, and I smiled big.

“Yes, let’s talk about us dating,” I told her, rubbing my hands together.

“I’ll be respectful of your dates, if you’re respectful to mine,” she said, and my hand in midair stopped her from talking. Her dates, what fucking dates?

“Are you fucking dating?” My hands came down on the table. Her arms crossed over her chest.

“Not at the moment, but in case I meet someone and they pick me up here or”—she shook her head—“they spend the night, I just want to make sure you aren’t, well, you.”

“No fucking dating,” I snapped, getting up and picking up my plate, walking into the kitchen clutching it so hard I thought it was going to snap in two, or ten.

“Wait a fucking second.” She stormed after me. “You can’t tell me not to date. Surely you’ll want to date also, and I’m okay with that.” When she said it, I saw her stop talking and tried to swallow, her neck moving up and down, her neck that I wanted to lean in, bite, and mark.

“How about we both don’t date while we are together?” I cleaned off my plate before rinsing it off and putting it in the dishwasher. “How’s that?” I asked her, praying she accepted this. Either that or I was going to go apeshit on her.

She walked back to her dish in the dining room, came back in, and handed it to me so I could put it in the dishwasher. “We aren’t together, but I guess if we meet someone, we can come back and revisit this.” She shrugged and leaned into the counter.

There would be no fucking revisiting this. The only thing we needed to discuss was if she was going to be in my bed or I would be in hers.