Whiskey & Vows

S I X

C H A P T E R  S I X || HURRICANE

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          “Let me get this straight, you thought that you could just mix that in with the rest of the laundry?” I asked calmly, looking at our pile of laundry. Derek had taken it upon himself to do laundry and unknowingly, didn’t know how to wash women’s clothes. I gave him some credit for being an adult and actually doing the laundry-not just his own, but I wanted to strangle him. I ran my hands through my hair and stared at our clothes.

          Three of his white shirts were dyed a pink color, while two of my shirts shrunk awkwardly and two of my bras now had melted wire. He threw in a new sweater without reading the directions and now the fabric crinkled and waved in different areas. I wanted to ask him how he’s managed to wreck his own clothes; at school, he’s been doing his own laundry.

          “I didn’t think about how to wash your clothes.” He grimaced, holding up what once was my favorite bra. His blue eyes looked back from me and back at our pile of clothes. Taking deep breaths, I looked at him and smiled.

          “It was an accident.” I grinned tightly. “Have you ever watched your mother do laundry?” I asked curiously. His eyes hardened and he looked down at the pile of clothes.

          “I didn’t pay attention to women’s clothes.” He mumbled quietly.

          “Okay, well, let me tell you.” I sighed, holding up my other bra. “You don’t put bras in the dryer. The padding gets weird-like this one, and the wire melts. It can also wreck the dryer.” He furrowed his eyes in confusion and held up the bra in his hand.

          “36-C?” My cheeks turned a bright red and I sucked in air, hoping that he would gain some maturity.

          “Are you serious?” I groaned.

          “I knew there had to be a reason you were in my bed.” He winked. My jaw dropped and I flung my other bra at him. Derek chuckled and looked down at his sweater.

          “That one, you probably were supposed to wash in cold water.”

          “I’m twenty-two and I screwed up laundry.” He sighed, rubbing his neck.

          “Well, in your defense, you probably never washed anything but male clothes.” I shrugged.

          “I’m sorry about your bras.” He grimaced as he held up the same one. It was black and lacey-my favorite.

          “I think you wore this one in Vegas.” He said, cupping it in his hands.

          “You’re disgusting.” I grimaced as I hobbled out of the laundry room and sat at the end of the stairs. I found it easier to butt-bump my way down like a toddler, and Derek has done nothing but make fun of me.

          “You’re stuck with me!”

          “Unfortunately!” I felt him at my back and turned around to see him grinning at me.

          “Don’t kill me yet.” I whined. “Let me do some cool things first.” Derek placed two laundry baskets at the end of the stairs and grinned boyishly at me.

          “Let’s race down.”

          “Are you crazy!”

          “Come on; tell me you’ve never done this?” He said, sitting in his.