8
This is the Perfect Diversion Tactic
TJ
Maybe I pissed off the Fates or incurred some spectacularly bad Karma because it’s Sunday night, and Jude and I are not dueling with words over drinks and then with tongues over at my place. We’re wandering through the home decor section of TK Maxx, looking for a shower curtain.
“What about this one?” Jude asks, pointing to a curtain printed with rubber ducks.
Is he for real? Oh, wait. This could be good. Maybe I’ll learn Jude and I don’t see eye to eye on anything, and all my red-hot desire for him will drain away in one shopping trip.
Yes! “We’re not getting that,” I say. “We’re not three.”
“It’s ironic,” he explains.
“No, irony is when I say That shower curtain is so nice.”
Jude whips out his phone, taps furiously, then reads, “Ahem. Irony: incongruity between the actual result of a sequence of events and the normal or expected result.” He grabs the curtain and holds it out as if I could somehow miss those bright yellow ducks. “This shower curtain is the opposite of what you’d think two young blokes would have in their flat.”
“Hold on,” I say, then grab my phone, and pretend to read, “Irony: still the most often misused word in the English language.”
Jude rolls his eyes. “Call it kitschy, then. Will you allow kitschy, Mister Word Police?”
“I will definitely allow kitschy.”
“Great. Then let’s get this shower curtain.”
“No.”
“Don’t you like kitsch?”
I shoot Jude a searing stare. “About as much as I like the irony of living with you.”
He chuckles, almost despite himself. “But we’re still getting a new shower curtain. I am not showering in that travesty of a bathroom with that horror of a curtain. It had about twenty layers of mold on it,” he says, shuddering.
“I’m aware. I’m the one who took it down and tossed it in the trash because you refused to even go in there and touch it.”
Jude presses his palms together. “And I am still so very grateful for your chivalry, roomie.”
I point to a white shower curtain. “How about that one?”
Jude stares at me, challenge in his eyes. “TJ, are you secretly boring?”
“No. I’m openly interesting.”
Jude scoffs, muttering out of the corner of his mouth, “Who gets a white shower curtain?”
“Who cares about the color of a shower curtain?” I ask, and yes, it’s working. We’re bickering. This will douse the flames in seconds.
Jude points at his chest. “I do. And I’m putting my foot down. We’re not getting a white shower curtain. It’s boring with a capital B. I refuse to be boring,” he says, and he squares his shoulders like he’s going to battle on this front.
“I don’t understand how the shower curtain says anything about whether you’re interesting or not. Who cares about the color of the shower curtain?”
“Everyone,” he says.
His answer awakens the beast in me, and I hiss, “You mean everyone, as in, people who are going to come over?”
“Everyone,” he emphasizes.
I grit my teeth as the creature thrashes harder in my chest. “Everyone like…?”
“Everyone like me,” he says, indignant.
Whew.
Stand down, dragon.
While that’s not an admission that he won’t bring a dude over, at least he’s picky about bathroom decor for an aesthetic reason rather than a look-tidy-for-a-hookup reason.
And maybe this whole shower curtain persnickety-ness will cure me of my lust. Please, pretty please.
“A classy bathroom sets the mood for the day,” he continues, sweeping an arm out, setting the scene. “You want to walk into the bathroom in the morning, enjoy some nice, fluffy towels, and have a shower curtain that welcomes you.”
I chuckle at his Downton Abbey-esque description. “It sounds like what you need is a valet.”
“Don’t tease me like that. A bathroom valet is only the height of my fantasies.”
“You and I have very different fantasies,” I say.
Jude grabs my arm, his touch practically singeing me, and I’m right back on the attraction merry-go-round.
Don’t let go of my arm, hottie.
“I assure you, TJ, our fantasies are not that different,” he says, low, sensual, and way too dangerous. “And I have loads of fantasies. But I’m speaking specifically of household fantasies. Don’t you have household fantasies?”
Sure, but my household fantasies are more along the lines of fucking him while he’s bent over the counter. Blowing him at the kitchen table, jerking him off behind the shower curtain. “No. I don’t,” I lie.
He lets go of my arm. “Well, I do. And mine include a nice bathroom for getting ready in the morning.”
This must be an actor thing. I’m going to have to go along with it, and hopefully, it’ll dull the shine of Jude Graham.
He waxes on about cheery colors and patterns as he sifts through the selection of shower curtains, picking up a purple one, a plaid one, a green flower one, dismissing each with a careless flick of the finger. “We want something with a little perk.”
“Perky shower curtains,” I repeat, processing this term. “I didn’t know that was a thing.”
“How about something bright and yellow?” Jude suggests.
I wave a hand dismissively at the selection on the shelves. “Sounds fine. Just pick.”
He laughs deeply, very oh, silly boy. “You didn’t think I was going to let you pick, did you, TJ? If you picked, it’d be something you ordered from Zazzle and with a guy in a bathrobe on it.”
“The dude?” I point to my shirt, the one with the illustration of Jeff Bridges’s iconic character from one of the greatest cult classics ever.
“Yes. Or Tetris,” Jude adds.
Fine, if he’s going to poke at me like that, I can poke back. “You didn’t have a problem with my Tetris shirt last night,” I point out.
Jude slides just an inch closer, lowers his voice. “Actually, I did.”
I put my hands on my hips. “What was the problem?”