It's September and I need a roommate. I couldn't live in the dorms anymore. I was fed up of being paired with idiots. I was done sharing my kitchen and my bathroom with an entire floor. When I signed the lease for my apartment, I did it with the guy...
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It's November and Holt and I are locked out of our apartment's building.
We went out and got absolutely shit faced to celebrated the end of our midterms. I lost my keys, but Holt still had his, but when he tried unlocking it, it wouldn't budge. The door's stuck for some reason which makes no sense. Holt tried shaking it and banging on it and then he was just leaning over it, stroking it and telling it it was pretty and should just open already.
But now he's given up and he's just sitting on the front steps with his head between his knees repeating, "I'm not gonna hurl," like that'll actually stop him. I'm drunk, but I'm not as bad as him. I didn't try making out with a door.
I think Holt overdid it on the drinking because he's a little down. It'll be Thanksgiving soon. I'll be going back home, but Holt is going to stay at the apartment. I offered him to spend it with my family, but he says he doesn't want to intrude and I didn't press it. Honestly, I feel super bad thinking about him all alone in our apartment, but I also hate to think about him meeting Eloise. They still haven't met. I've gone through pretty crazy hoops to make sure of it. Because I know the second my sister sees Holt it's game over. She'll get her claws on him and then I'll have to babysit their babies.
"Try kicking it," Holt mumbles, head still between his knees.
I'm the one that's been shaking the door for the last five minutes without any luck. And now I'm staring at Holt like he's an idiot. "What?"
"Try kicking it."
"Why would I do that?"
"In movies, people kick doors and they open."
Clearly I'm Holt's bitch, because I do it.
"Hmm, good form. That was a good kick."
"It did absolutely nothing Holt."
"Good stance, lots of power in that dominant leg, I'm impressed."
"Christ you're drunk."
Holt leans back, laying down completely while making a pained sound in the back of his throat, his forearm over his eyes. His white t-shirt itched up a little when he did that. I'm getting a pristine view of his sexy abs. I'm thinking about giving up on the whole opening-door business and to just go do naughty things to him. I've been thinking about doing naughty things to him too often lately, and by too often I mean all the fucking time.
We can't stay outside like this, like two drunk idiots. It's fucking cold outside. Holt is wearing my black leather jacket, which he's basically claimed for himself, and I'm wearing my suede jacket so at least we're not in say-peekaboo-to-my-snatch skirts and crop tops. But it's still a cold November night. I can't drive us anywhere, but I could call a cab, and get us to my sisters.
We'll have to go sleep at Eloise's apartment.
I think that this is it. I'm going to have to call my sister and she's going to meet Holt and he's drunk right now, so clearly, I'll be an uncle in nine months.
I pull the key out of the lock, and when I do I realize something.
I throw my head back and groan in annoyance. "Holt."
"Whaaaaaat?"
"You used the wrong key you fucking idiot."
He sits up. "Huh?"
"Smooches, you really need to stop sticking the wrong thing in the wrong hole," I say shaking my head and then use the right key and, magic, the door opens.
Holt gets up on his feet very slowly, "I don't know what you're trying to say by saying that, but sure, whatever you say Boo."
I roll my eyes and keep the door open for him. He passes by me with a goofy grin and walks inside our building.
