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“I’m not asking for anything from you. Just to be here. To be you. To maybe not pretend to be so messy.”

“Oh, about that,” I said, wincing. “I am actually kind of messy.”

“Are you? Or have you just never had somewhere to put your stuff?”

“I have no idea. I totally was trying to make the common area a mess too. Oh, and only a psychopath would organize the pantry in alphabetical order.”

“I was seriously questioning your sanity with that one,” he admitted. “I don’t mind a little mess.”

“Liar.”

“What?”

“I’ve never seen anyone load the dishwasher as much as you do. And don’t think I don’t hear that robot vacuum running all night long. I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure you also squeegee the shower each time you get out.”

“I do,” he agreed, smiling. “Think cleaning up after myself might be because I was so friendly with the housekeeper growing up, and I didn’t want to create more work for her.”

“You know, they sell stuff to spray on the glass so the water just slides off, no marks?”

“Yeah?”

“Laziness has its perks,” I said with a nod.

“So, what do you say?”

“To staying?”

“Yeah. But without all the walls. And the games.”

“Um, well…”

“The stock challenge still stands,” he said, reading my mind.

“Then I think maybe we can try.”

“That’s all I can ask. Now, I was thinking Alfredo for dinner.”

“Yes, please.”

“Wanna come keep me company while I cook?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“If we can watch my buddy’s stream.”

“Why do I sense something mischievous behind those eyes?”

“What? It’s a stream. He reads poetry!”

Erotic poetry.

While he lazily jerked off.

And his target audience was fellow gay men. But he’d been my cousin’s neighbor for years, and I was his first subscriber since back then, so I was determined to always support him.

“I get the feeling you’re going to keep me on my toes.”