Cookies by Nightfall (Yaoi/BoyxBoy) (Finished)

Chapter Two--Full Crush Mode On

Chapter Two—Full Crush Mode 

“God, I thought I’d never see this place again.”

Orly stepped inside his apartment. Reaching for the light switches, he flicked on the living room light, then held himself against the doorframe, his head propped up against the wooden panels. What a shift. First, a shelf had fallen in Biography, which Sanz had blamed him for, even though Krista had set up that section. Later, a customer complained that she didn’t know a book of jokes was “inappropriate,” despite the fact it had come shrink-wrapped and was titled, “Matureness Sucks,” and she felt she deserved some sort of compensation for emotional distress.

But the last straw had been when Chris left with not one, but two, hipster chicks after their shifts had ended. Orly was supposed to have joined them for coffee as well. Sure, he’d begged Chris to let him go, so technically he was a pity tagalong, but an invite was an invite. And he needed something to get his mind off of cookie guy. Cookie guy with his green eyes. And his dark hair. And his height.

Orly shook his head. There he went again, daydreaming. He was in desperate need of a lay. If that stupid coworker hadn’t called out sick—seriously, who called out sick on the day of a grand opening—he might have been nestled between the boobs of one of those girls.

“Who am I kidding? They both wanted Chris. I would have been left out like a dog on the porch.”

Kicking off his shoes, he made his way to the sofa, where he sank into the overstuffed cushions. “Where is that remote?” He didn’t see it on the coffee table or on the armrests, so he rooted for it between the cushions, where he found it amongst a few popcorn kernels and a crust of bread. A quarter was stuck to some of the plastic buttons.

Smiling, he peeled the coin off the keys and stuck it in his pocket. “Three more and I have a dollar.” He leaned back, closing his eyes and sighing. It felt good to break away from the grind. He should have taken off his pants before sitting down to truly get that I’m-at-home-now-and-can-scratch-my-balls-if-I-wanted-to vibe.

The doorknob jiggled. “Orly? You there?” someone asked from the other side.

Without opening his eyes, Orly called out, “Orly moved to Paris to be a mime.”

“His Neon’s in the lot.”

“What, you expect him to drive across the ocean?”

The door flew open, letting in a disheveled guy in a suit and tie. Mercurio, Orly’s roommate, stumbled in, his arms overflowing with essays. Mercurio wasn’t tall, but he still stood taller than Orly by four inches. Both boys had the same shade of brown hair, but Merc kept his longer. Tonight, he had it back in a ponytail.

A few papers slipping from his grip, Merc dropped a cold stare at his friend. “Don’t get up.”

Orly aimed the remote at the TV, his finger engaging the ON button. “Don’t plan to.”

Merc closed the door with his foot. He spilled the papers onto the coffee table, then joined Orly on the sofa. “All the misspellings and comma splices I have a date with tonight better be worth it. I don’t want to stay an adjunt forever.” Sitting back, he tapped a finger against his chin. “I needed to tell you something.”

“What?”

“Don’t remember. Let me see if it comes to me.” He sat up and snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah. I drank the last beer last night.”

“Uh huh.”

“You know what that means?”

Orly knew exactly what that meant. “Nope.”