Basketball is Not Life

Chapter Eight

The second week in, it was the middle of the night. I was working on homework when a rap of knuckles went against my bedroom door. I turned from the math book in front of me and looked up to see Parker in my doorway. He was holding a basket of clothes. "I have waited longer than I should have... do you mind showing me?"

I look back down at my homework, tempted to say no and good luck. But then I remember the first time my mom showed me how to do my own laundry. I was in Middle School and thought it was the coolest thing ever. Anything that evolved around cleaning as a kid made me happy. My parents didn't mind that side of me. My mom always knew when something was going on when I started cleaning closets out. It was my "tell" she would say to me.

"Fine," I shut my math book after sticking my worksheet in the book and closing my laptop; all my assignments had to be submitted online.

I followed him to the laundry upstairs; there was one downstairs and one upstairs. I shouldn't have been too amazed by that since my house back home had two laundry rooms.

Parker drops his basket when we step in and then tells me he will be right back, I wait a bit, and then he enters carrying two more baskets. He shrugs, "I should have done it sooner."

"Why haven't you?" I asked.

"I was tempted to see if I could make it the whole month and just have Rosita catch up."

I laugh. "At what point did you decide you couldn't wait any longer?"

"When I ran out of clean shorts."

The bins were mostly filled with shorts and sweatpants; they were the staples of Parker's wardrobe. He just had more than the typical person when it came to how many shorts were in front of us in the bins.

I started sorting the clothes into lights and darks; Parker follows my lead. We worked in silence. It was going to take him about four loads to get through all the clothes.

"Do not leave them in the washer; transfer them to the dryer as soon as they are done."

"Why?" he asked.

"It will get musty smelling, and you will have to rewash it."

I did my laundry weekly and had nothing to wash. Parker set a timer on his phone even though I knew he would be able to hear the buzzer from his room.

I started walking out of the laundry room, and Parker grabbed my hand. With my arm outstretched, I turn, looking back at one of the most gorgeous guys I had ever met. Raising my eyebrows at him, wondering what else he needed.

"Thanks for helping me." His thumb traces down my hand, and then he drops my hand. I nod and leave him in the laundry room, my heart slightly fluttering from the skin contact and his eyes on me.

That Thursday night was when I came home to a rather large group of girls and boys spread throughout the house. It made me wonder if Melissa would consider this a house party or not. I searched, making sure there were no beer bottles or alcohol spread throughout the house. The music was blasting on the home system in the living room. Apparently, there were speakers hidden in the walls that I didn't even know about. Parker was nowhere to be found as I searched through the whole house. I wondered how long it would be until the cops were called due to a noise disturbance.

On the second floor, I find a pair of guys feeding Spartan cheese from a can. Spartan wasn't complaining, but I would be the one who would have to smell his gas for the next few days. I grabbed his collar and dragged him down the hall to my room. My room was not empty; there were a couple on my bed making out, my made bed from this morning now unmade. I deposited Spartan into my bathroom, hoping he would be safe in there for now.