Boy Next Door ✔

chapter twenty-three

C A L E B 

There was only one thing left to do now. I looked over at Mateo's apartment door and let out a sigh of frustration. If only I hadn't forgotten my key-card, this wouldn't be happening right now. I hesitantly made my way over to his room and knocked on the door, making sure I was loud enough so he could actually hear me - considering the fact that he had started playing his music again. 

When he didn't answer, I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth in annoyance and attempted once again. Thankfully, this time, his door swung open and there stood a very tired and annoyed Mateo. 

His hair was all over the place and he was wearing a pair of loose sweatpants complimented by a black tank top. He leaned against the door-frame and began, "What do you need?"

"Uh," I began. "Look, this is really awkward but- I kind of forgot my key-card at my friend's place."

"Great going, idiot. Do you want me to congratulate you?" Mateo snorted in response. 

I shot him a quick glare before saying, "No, I actually wanted to ask you if I could spend the night at your place. I'm not really in the mood to drive back to his place."

Mateo tilted his head at me as if he was deep in thought before proceeding, "But you called me a loser imbecile."

"Oh my God, are we really doing this right now?" I groaned, rubbing my temples in frustration.

"No," he said with a sly grin. "But you're forgetting the magic word."

"Please?" I attempted.

"It's actually Mateo is the sexiest man alive, but I'll give it to you," he teased before stepping aside so I could come in. I scoffed at his immensely inflated ego before waddling inside like a lost dog. 

His lights were surprisingly on for someone who looked like they had just awoken from their sleep unlike the first time I had been to his place. So, this time I got the opportunity to register my surroundings well. His room was exactly as I had expected to be - with the Chase Atlantic posters plastered all over the walls, a bunch of albums scattered on his desk, clothes thrown all over the place. But the one thing that caught my eye was a guitar hanging on the wall with a signature on the bottom.

"You play the guitar?" I questioned, taking my place on the couch after moving aside a few shirts. 

"Yes," he responded bluntly before making his way over to the guitar and tapping his knuckle against the signature with a proud grin on his face. "Mitchel Cave's signature. Aren't I lucky?"

I ignored the last part of what he had said, "If you play the guitar then why do you have to play Chase Atlantic every morning? I'd very much so prefer waking up to the sounds of a guitar instead."

He rolled his eyes, "Are you really going to start complaining about my music again?"

"Alright, I'm sorry," I said, raising my arms as if to surrender. "Hey, I'm really worn out. Where am I supposed to sleep?"

I watched him make his way over to a room like an idiot without moving. Moments later, he reappeared, "Follow me, dumbass."  

I followed him in silence as he led me into a bedroom - with two beds. The problem was, one of the beds were completely tidy and the other not so much. There were numerous articles of clothing piled on the other bed and I was too scared to even ask what kind of animals could be living in there. 

"We'll share a bed, or you can take the couch," he stated.

"Why can't I just use the spare bed?" I questioned. 

"Because my clothes are there, duh?"

"Can't you move it onto the floor or something?" I groaned, my frustration growing by the minute.

"Do you know how unsanitary that is?" he retorted before making his way over to his bed and falling back onto it with a pleased sigh. 

"Do you know how unsanitary it is leaving all those clothes on your bed without washing them?" I fired back.

"Hey, I did wash them. I'm just too lazy to put them in the closet," he shrugged, propping himself up on his elbows. 

I inhaled sharply, "There are clothes on the couch too, though. Can't I at least move those?"

"Don't touch my clothes," he began. "It's either we share a bed or you sleep on the dusty ass floor for all I care."

My throat went dry when I imagined the variety of germs that could be living on the floor. Plus, his crusty-dusty toes had made contact with the floor. There's a snowball's chance in hell that I'm sleeping there for a whole night. 

"Move over," I huffed. "We can share the bed."