Roommates

Part 10

"So," you paused, raising an eyebrow at Shawn as he seemed to look everywhere but at you, "what the hell was that?"

Shawn seemed to be avoiding you after everything had gone down with Karen. Of course, you played it cool for the time that she was there, but the second she was out the door you crossed your arms over your chest and turned to face him.

"That was my mom," he spoke wearily, bringing his right hand to the back of his neck. A nervous tick.

"Yeah, got that, captain," you stated with a shake of your head, "I mean, what the hell is she talking about? Christmas? Girlfriend?"

He groaned, tilting his head to the side. "Okay, look," finally, he met your gaze, "She saw the pictures of us at the market a little bit ago and called to ask what was up with," he paused, "everything."

"And?"

"And she was pressing and I told her we live together and she was so happy, quickly assuming I had this secret girlfriend I'd been seeing forever, apparently," he explained, "And she was ecstatic. Over the fucking moon. And I couldn't crush her."

"So you just let her think we're dating?" you raised your eyebrows, "And asked if I can come to fucking Christmas?!"

"She asked!" he motioned his hands outward as if that would get his point across, "And what? She's gonna find out I have a girlfriend," he made air quotes with his fingers, "and then I'm gonna deny you the invitation to Christmas?"

You remained silent, nodding once to prompt him to keep talking.

"No," he breathed, "the answer is no. So here we are, and you're coming to Christmas."

"Hmm," you breathed with a nod, chewing your lip. His face was straight as an arrow, and while you were sort of relieved, a part of you wished their conversation had gone a different way.

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"Hey!" Shawn called from the couch as you burst through the door, returning from a morning run.

You tugged one headphone out, a Rihanna song blaring from the tiny speaker.

"Huh?"

"I said hey," he grinned, placing a hand on either side of him to lift his body off of the couch.

"Oh," you grinned, checking out his tight-fitting tee as he made his way over to you. "Hi."

"How was your run?" he asked with crossed arms, stopping in front of you. He leaned a bit to the side, craning his neck to get a look at your ass. He nodded in smug approval.

"Would y-, stop!" you giggled, taking a step back to lean against the kitchen counter. "It was good."

"Do youuuu," he leaned back on his heels like a hyper kid asking their mom to have a sleepover, "need help washing your hair?"

"I think I'm okay, thank you," you spoke, shooting him a look as you pulled a water bottle from the fridge. His hands were on your hips in an instant. "Shawn! I'm all sweaty!" you giggled as his lips ghosted over your damp neck, nose brushing your jaw.

"I could make you sweaty," he whispered, heat rushing to the apex of your thighs. Here we go again, you thought.

"Shawn," you choked, fighting the temptation, "I'm still sore from yesterday."

"Oh," he spoke in a chipper tone, stepping back and spinning you to face him. "I actually meant something else," he teased, noticing the flush in your cheeks. He did that on purpose. "We need a Christmas tree and I want to get a real one."