Michaelishious - Vol. 2020

Dec. 15th: Roommates (pt. 2)

"Kaysa! God, I'm glad you're here. Can you please unwrap the red cups and stack them on the kitchen counter? Jim is getting the beer."

"Who's Jim?"

Calista snickered.

"Potential boyfriend material. Tall, blonde, green eyes... And God, you should see his biceps! It's like he's grown up at the gym."

I rolled my eyes. But since we shared the same taste in men, my curiosity was triggered. And boy, was she right!

"We need to share that piece of meat," I whispered and elbowed her. He carried two kegs of beer like it was nothing, and his biceps and pecs were literally tearing their way out of his way too tight shirt. I could spot something that looked like a tank top underneath, and became determined to make him shred some clothes before this party was over.

"Yeah, right. He's mine," she snorted.
"Haven't you reeled in Parker yet?"

She was talking about my crush back at school, and I shook my head.

"He doesn't even look my way."

"Keyword: Slutty."

"I'm not gonna make a fool of myself by dressing up in a skimpy dress?! You know my style."

She sighed and gave me a look that told me what she meant about that case.

"You're gonna end up on the back of a motorcycle looking like that. You're so close to being a full-blooded steam punk slash MC chick that you scare off every single male that walks by."

"Not everybody," I objected, slightly offended.

"Oh?" she said, suddenly more interested.

"You met someone?"

"No. I just got a new roommate, since you ditched me."

"A guy?!" she exclaimed. And the way I blushed gave her the answer.
"Spill the beans, missy."

She handed me a glass of wine and prepared her selected favorites on Spotify, before she turned the music on. But not louder than it was possible to lead a conversation.

"His name is Michael Jackson, and he seems obsessed with trying to make me like him. He's probably used to all the girls fainting around his feet. Linda's already drooling all over him."

Calista shook her head.

"That wasn't a surprise."

I took a gulp of my wine.

"This is good."

"I know. But seriously. He's a playboy? Does he look good?"

I nodded. I had to admit that he did.

"But he's definitely not my type. He's black, slender and has dark, curly hair."

And the most gorgeous eyes and blinding smile I've ever seen, I added in my mind.

"Ah. Such a pity. It would be such a cliché if you fell for each other and spent the whole days and nights..."

"Shut up, Calista! It's never gonna happen! Forget about him, okay? I still haven't given up on Parker."

"Yeah, yeah. If you say so. But at least send me a picture of him."

"I'm not taking a picture of him! His ego is already swollen enough, and he's very exhibitionistic."

I emphasized that one word, and got a surprised brow-raise from my best friend.

"Does that mean what I think it means?"