James
He takes his sweet-ass time, chewing each bite fifteen times as he walks around the living room, picking up DVDs and fishing trophies. He's on his third bite when he drops a photograph, then leans over slowly to pick it up. On the fifth bite, he licks nonexistent mayo from his fingers. By the time he goes for the sixth, I've had enough.
I throw his sandwich away and drag him to the bathroom. As I fill the tub, he goes on and on about how hungry he is from all the work he did on the roof.
I tell him to shut up and get in the tub.
Riley
I tell him that he's mighty tetchy, and that I prefer to shower, but he doesn't listen.
He blinks at me – his reflection fading in the mirror as steam spreads through the room – and holds the sink real tight. I kind of like the whiteness of his knuckles.
He can tell me to quit smirking all he fucking likes; it's his own fault for having such a funny face.
His ass isn't funny though. When he strips, his ass is as serious as a heart attack.
Smirking, I strip too and blow him a kiss before sliding into the tub.