Mrs. Henderson just crossed her arms. “You got
lucky,” she says.
I could practically feel the dude’s glare burning
a hole in me. If looks could kill, I’d be dust.
Mrs. Henderson keeps aoina. “She’s kept this
<
place clean as a whistle, if not for her, you’d be
walking into a swamp. You’d need three days to
clean this place, to be able to drink your tea,
right now.”
That made me a little guilty. Because cleaning
this place? Not me.
3
The hot dude raised an eyebrow, “I pay for a
cleaning service every week. She should know.”
Oh. That made sense. That’s why the cleaning
lady came in every week to give the place a
once–over.
“If the cleaning lady hadn’t said my wife was
hiding someone in the house, and that she
needed to call me right away, I wouldn’t have
know you were shacking up with your boyfriend
here.”
He said the last bit with this look of total
disgust.
My face went bright red, I suddenly realized what he meant by “hiding someone.”
It was my abs pillow.
When I first moved in, the bed was way too big.
It felt kinda lonely, So I bought this six–foot body pillow with a sculpted six–pack. The abs felt so good! It was like a boyfriend, but without
the drama.
I’d be hugging it and feeling it up every night, totally content.
I guess the cleaning lady saw the shape of it, all bundled in the blankets, and thought I had a guy in my room.
I just scratched my head, not knowing what to
nou to this roleunderstanding The nillow wor
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844
say to this misunderstanding. The pillow was
kinda… embarrassing, you know? I did not want anyone to see it.
4
So, long story short, me and the hot dude,
whose name I learned was Shawn, were now
cohabitating.
First, because my lease wasn’t up.
Second, because Shawn just got back and had nowhere else to go. He sure wasn’t going back to his parents.
So he had to settle for the smaller bedroom.
I felt terrible, like I should offer him the master bedroom.
I said, “Hey, I can move out of the master. You should have it.”
3:19
844
He just gave me a death glare. “I’m not sleeping in a room someone else has slept in.”
I shut my mouth, but muttered, “But I’ve been
here for months…”
Shawn’s hearing was great. He scoffed, “I’m
gonna sell it soon anyway. Once I buy a new
place, I’m out.”
I went quiet.
He was being forced to move out, because of
- me. That felt awful.
5
After he moved in, I was on edge for a while. I didn’t want to make him mad. What if he kicked
me out?
But after a month, I realized he was usually busy. We barely saw each other, even though
3:19
we were living in the same house.
844
I started relaxing a bit, forgetting he was there.
I stopped closing my door when I left my room.
Then, one weekend, Shawn was home.
He was coming out of the smaller bedroom,
passed my door, and his gaze landed on my abs
pillow, spread out on the bed.
He paused, looked at it for a few seconds, and
said, “What is that thing?”
I got all flustered. “Uh?”
Shawn nodded to the pillow, “It’s… uniquely
ugly. Matches you perfectly.”
I just stared at him.
After that, I figured it was time for the pillow to
cover up. It’s not right, for all to see.
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844
I went ahead and bought a shirt for it. Now
there was a step: I would have to lift the shirt to touch the abs.
One night I went to take a shower and found
my body wash was empty.
I figured Shawn wasn’t around, so I wrapped a towel around myself and went to get a new one.
Of course, Shawn came back from the gym at that exact moment.
I was still searching when he coughed, and said, “Could you put some clothes on? Is this your house alone?”
I was still looking for my body wash and
mumbled, “Sorry. I don’t know where I put the new one.”
I finally found it and turned around.
く
He was still standing there, and he was a bright
red.
There were droplets of sweat on his face, and
he was breathing heavily. He was completely
flushed.
Was he doing cardio? Why was he looking so…
hot?
I didn’t have time to think about it, and grabbed
my body wash, and rushed to the bathroom.
6
After the shower, Mrs. Henderson came by. She
had a pot of beer braised duck, and said,
“Fresh off the stove! Come eat!”
Mrs. Henderson was a great cook. She always
brought me food.
I grabbed a bowl and went over.
3:19
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844
0800
Shawn wrinkled his nose. “Mom, I don’t like
duck.”
Mrs. Henderson snorted, “Who said this is for
you?
“You don’t get my personal cooking.”
“Come here, baby, eat!” she says, addressing
- me.
Shawn just rolled his eyes.
Mrs. Henderson was smothering me, asking me
if it was delicious.
I was basically forced to eat the whole pot. It
was good, but I was pretty… buzzed.
The last thing I saw was Mrs. Henderson
slapped her forehead. “Oh shoot! I forgot you
can’t drink much. I put half a bottle of your
uncle’s good stuff.”
