Messy Love (Stumbling into Love 3)

“I was just giving you shit. No more daddy jokes, I promise, but I gotta say, I have so much to teach you. There’s a whole big gay world out there. It’s the real happiest place on earth.”

A laugh jumped out of my mouth. “That was cheesy.”

“Eh, I guess, but it made you smile, so it was worth it.”

My lips stretched wider, but I also felt it in my chest. God, I wanted this, really fucking wanted it. There was no one to hold me back anymore except me, and I was damn tired of getting in my own way.

CHAPTER FOUR

Danny

There was something extremely interesting about Jonathan, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. He was obviously still working through some things when it came to his sexuality, but I could see the want in him, the fire that I wasn’t even sure he knew he had. Jonathan definitely wanted to see what was out there. I was suddenly way too excited to become friends and be the one to show him.

“You got plans tonight?” I asked.

“Nah. I hung out with Will most of the day and was planning on heading back home.”

“I’ll order pizza. We can chill, if you want, decide if we want to do this.”

“Yeah…I…okay. I have more interviews starting on Monday. I’ve already given my notice at my place.”

See? There was that want. He hadn’t wasted any time, already planning to move out before he even had a job.

“I have some money saved up,” he rushed out. “It’s not like I won’t be able to pay my part.”

I chuckled, and he shook his hair out of his eyes. Something about that was cute. “My mind didn’t even go there. We’re good.” I clapped him on the back. “What do you like on your pizza?”

“I’m good with anything except mushrooms.”

“Right? Mushrooms are the worst on pizza.”

We decided on a barbecue-chicken pizza, which I put a quick order in for.

“I’ll give you half for it,” Jonathan offered.

“Yeah, sure. Or you can get it next time. Whatever works, since we’re going to be roomies.”

He cocked a dark brow. “Are we, now?”

“All signs point to yes.”

“You sound like a Magic 8-Ball.”

“That might be because I have one in my bedroom. Come on. I’ll show you the place.” I nodded toward the hallway, and Jonathan shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and followed me. “It’s designed kinda weird, if you ask me. Bathroom is on this side of the hallway, and both bedrooms on the other.”

“That’s because of how the main part of the apartment is set up. The living room extends farther back on the other side of the wall than the kitchen, so there’s less space. I would have never designed it that way.”

I had to agree with him there. “For real. It doesn’t make much sense. Anyway, this first door is your room.” I pushed it open. It wasn’t a large room by any stretch of the imagination, with a closet, no bathroom. I hit the lights and said, “It’s not much.”

Jonathan walked inside, looking around. “Don’t need much.” He shrugged. “It’s only temporary and all. I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my life.”

“You have time to figure it out.”

“I’m thirty-two,” he said again.

“Gasp!” I clutched my chest. “Are you sure we shouldn’t be looking for an assisted-living facility instead?”

“Ha-ha, fucker.” Jonathan gave me the finger. His forehead wrinkled slightly afterward, as if he was surprised he’d done it.

“You have the wrinkles.”

“I thought there were no more daddy jokes?”

“I didn’t say daddy. You did.”

Chuckling, he shook his head.

He followed me down the hallway to mine next. The door was open. Jonathan poked his head inside but didn’t follow me, as if my bedroom was a sacred place he couldn’t enter. “I have a bathroom in here, but it only has a shower. I like baths, so once in a while I’ll use the one in the hallway, but mostly I’ll take care of my shit in here.”

Okay, so using the word shit while discussing a bathroom probably shouldn’t ever happen unless you were actually talking about—

“Wait, so you shit in my bathtub? That’s a no-go for me, man. I’m out.”

We both laughed again, and I liked that he was joking with me. It was as if he’d let his guard down and felt a little more comfortable than he usually did. “I’ll admit I walked right into that one.” When I took a step toward him, Jonathan took one back. We made our way back into the living room, and I asked, “You want a beer? Wine? Water, Mountain Dew?”

“You might have it right disliking mushrooms on pizza, but you drink the wrong soda.”

I leaned my hip against the counter and crossed my arms. “Enlighten me, oh wise one.”

“Orange soda always and forever.”