Chapter 5 Contradictions

~Ryan~

After heading out to grab myself breakfast, a sausage, egg, and cheese burrito from my favorite food truck, I stop by the nearest grocery store and pick up a few things. I make sure to include real milk, real bacon, and I even include real eggs and real cheese for good measure, halfway fearing that my sister and new roommate would have some subpar version of those normal foods that I’d be forced to try out of hunger if I didn’t.

Before I leave, I even toss in a pack of that disgusting turkey bacon they’d fed me earlier and a small carton of almond milk. Afterall, I figure I need to make amends with the two women currently in my life, since I did insult their food, waste it, and not even say thank you.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t grateful for being thought of by Jenna when she made breakfast this morning, I was. It was just that, well, I really didn’t like the food, and even more than not liking the food, I didn’t like change. I crave comfort and stability outside of my very hectic and chaotic job and right now, my life is nothing but constant, gut-wrenchingly painful change.

So yeah, I do recognize that maybe I am being a bit ill and a bit ungrateful for the help Jenna – and as much as I hate to admit it, even Lila – are offering me right now, and maybe I do feel a bit guilty about that fact, but it isn’t exactly easy to snap myself out of the mood I am in because I am perpetually pissed off with the world right now.

But, the guilt is temporarily winning over the perpetual anger at the moment, so I decide to make one more stop on my way back to the house after I leave the grocery store, which is how I find myself struggling to open the front door with one hand while balancing a brown paper bag full of groceries and two paper cups in the other. I prop the groceries up on one knee and slip my finger through the slit in the cups to grip them as I work the lock, which also apparently needs some work because I have to jingle it several times before I finally hear the “click” signaling I am now able to enter the home.

What I don’t expect, however, is the sight waiting for me on the other end of the door when I enter, and all I am able to do is stare ahead wide eyed, jaw gaping, and unmoving.

Right in the middle of the shared living room, there’s my roommate, my sister’s best friend, with her body sprawled on a pink yoga mat in the downward dog position, her hips and ass arched in the air and pointing directly in my line of vision, as she has on nothing but a pair of extremely short black yoga shorts and a matching minimal top that’s criss-crossed in the front, leaving an open view of her cleavage spilling out.

I don’t mean to stare, I don’t mean to freeze, but somehow I can’t force one foot in front of the other. Hell, I can’t even force my eyes away from where they’ve crash landed, which is on her firm ass. I feel my breath hitch in my chest as my gaze wanders to her shapely, supple thighs. They linger there for longer than I care to admit, and unwanted, utterly unexpected images flash through my mind of her in that position, me directly behind her, my hands firmly planted on her hips, rummaging over and gripping her ass and then falling lower until I’m caressing her thighs and bending over her, nipping at the exposed tattoo that’s located along her neckline.

“Um, are you going to come in and shut the door or are you just going to stand there all day?” Lila calls out to me from her precarious position.

The fact that she’s noticed me in the middle of my dirty daydream startles me back to reality and in my shock and sudden embarrassment, the cups I am holding slip from my hands and thud to the floor, the tops immediately popping off and the laminate wood floor becomes flooded with light brown liquid.

“Shit,” I mutter, my normally stoic face faltering and my tan cheeks turning cherry red as I use my now free hand that isn’t clutching the grocery bag to swipe through my hair in a fit of nervous energy.

The sudden crash causes her to jump out of her yoga position and she arches a brow. “What was that?”

“It’s a mess is what it is,” I sigh heavily, my voice gruff and off putting. Partially due to the irritation of spilling the drinks and partially due to the shame I feel about the thoughts I was just having.

“I’ll grab some paper towels,” she offers, noticing the way the liquid is quickly spreading and fearing it’s only moments away from reaching her favorite rug.

She bounds into the kitchen and returns with a wad of napkins and hands them to me, taking the grocery bag from me in exchange and setting it on the kitchen bar as I bend down and begin the clean up process.

“You know,” she quips as I soak up my mess, “I always had you pegged as a black coffee drinker. No sugar, no milk. You know, nothing fun or enjoyable.”

“I am,” I grumble. “This wasn’t for me…”

“Oh?” she questions.

I stand abruptly, taking the two now empty cups and the wet, soggy, stained napkins with me to the trash can. She follows behind me as I enter the laundry room and she shows me where the cleaner is so that I can wipe the now sticky floor.

When I return to my work in silence, she presses, “So, who were the drinks for?”

I shake my head and quietly mumble, “They were for you and Jenna.” Though I can’t seem to meet her eyes because I’m still embarrassed about my intrusive thoughts from only moments before.

“You brought me coffee?” she asks, clearly surprised by the gesture.

“No, I got Jenna coffee,” I clarify. “I got you a Chai Latte.”

“But,” her brows scrunch, “how did you know…”

“You ordered it last year,” I interrupt. “At the food truck you and Jenna ate at with him outside of the station.” The corner of my lip turns up involuntarily at the memory. “Then we argued over what was better, coffee or tea…”

“Which led to another argument over what was better, iced drinks or hot,” she finishes for me through a chuckle.

I nod and hop from my position on the floor, carrying the cleaner and the soiled rag back to the laundry room and she follows behind me, hot on my heels.

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” she notes.

“I tend to remember a lot of things that annoy me,” I quip, which earns me an eye roll and a gentle shove of the arm.

My muscles tense a bit at the unexpected contact of her hand on my bicep and I clear my throat and nod towards the kitchen. “I should put my groceries up before they go bad. I got some stuff I’d like to tide me over for a few days until I can grab more, but you and Jenna are welcome to have some of it, too. I ah, I also bought you guys some more turkey bacon and almond milk as a peace offering, seeing as how I did waste your food and all earlier.”

She thanks me, then asks, “Is that what the Chai Latte and Coffee were for, too? Peace offerings?

“Something like that,” I agree as I anxiously scratch the back of my neck and continue to avoid her gaze.

She stares at me a moment, an easy smile sweeping across her face that makes her dimples deepen and her brown eyes light up.

“What?” I grunt and rest my hands above my waist in a defensive posture, expecting this moment to end in an argument or some sort of criticism that has been par for the course with us.

“Nothing.” She continues to smile at me. You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

I relax a bit and begin reaching into the grocery bag. “What can I say, I’m a man of contradictions.”