“Fuck, what the hell is wrong with this thing?” I groan kicking the washer in a bid to get the damn thing to start. “Fucking start, you stupid piece of shit.” I give it another hard kick, but nothing happens.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Logan asks, laughing at me.
I turn and find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his face. “Trying to get this stupid machine to start,” I say, giving it one more kick as though to emphasize my point. “I think it’s fucked.”
“It is,” he says calmly before he turns and walks back into the kitchen. Amy, his girlfriend is sitting on the counter, a coke in one hand and burger in the other.
“When did this happen?” I ask, following him, my eyes searching the kitchen in case there happens to be a spare burger lying around, cause damn, it smells good.
Logan laughs, taking a bite of his girlfriend’s burger before he stands between her legs, leaning back against the counter. “Um like a week ago maybe,” he replies with a shrug.
“And you’re only just telling me this now,” I say, my mouth practically watering as Amy takes a bite before offering it to Logan again, who has another.
Logan grins around his mouthful of food. “Um, I did, dumbass, but I think the bigger issue here is, how have you not done any washing for a week?”
Amy laughs and I roll my eyes at both of them as I walk over and grab the In and Out bag that sits on the table, looking for more food. “Fuck, what the hell am I supposed to do now?” I ask as I grab a couple of fries and stuff them in my mouth. “How are you washing?” I add, pointing at Logan with another handful of fries.
Logan smirks, his hands resting on Amy’s thighs as he watches me, not saying anything, even though I know exactly where he’s been doing his washing.
“Ames,” I say, stepping toward her. “You know you’re my fav—”
“Nope,” she says, cutting me off as she holds up the can of coke. “The answer is no.”
“Why?” I pout, sticking my bottom lip out.
“Not happening,” she says, narrowing her brow at me. “I do his,” she adds, crossing her legs in front of Logan. “Because I love him. You on the other hand, I’m not touching your underwear, no way.”
“Amy, please,” I say, hand on my heart as I stagger dramatically in front of her. “You wound me.”
“Yeah, right,” she says, deadpan.
“What the hell am I supposed to do then?” I ask, my eyes flicking between the pair of them. “I’m literally wearing my last clean pair of undies.”
Logan laughs, shaking his head at me. “Honestly, I actually don’t know how you survive life at times,” he starts. “But for the record, there are these things called laundromats you know. You take your washing, you put a couple of coins in the machine and bingo, clothes come out clean.”
I roll my eyes again, flipping him off as I throw the bag on the table and move toward the fridge, looking for something to drink. “Ha ha ha smart ass,” I mutter, opening the door. There’s literally nothing inside except a takeout container that’s been there for at least two weeks, a bottle of water and a bag of carrots.
Who the fuck bought a bag of carrots?
“Shit,” I mutter, slamming the fridge shut. “This sucks.”
“This, my friend, is life,” Logan says.
“You know, I think I miss Reid,” I say, turning and leaning back against the fridge. “He wouldn’t be like this. In fact, I might head over there and see if I can use his washer.”
Logan and Amy both start laughing. “Yeah, good luck with that,” he says, before turning to his girlfriend.
Thirty minutes later, I’m knocking on Reid’s front door, my detergent soaked clothes sitting in a bag in my car.
“Come on dude, answer the door,” I mutter as I lean to the side, peering in through the window.
The house looks quiet and empty and despite my repeated knocking, no one comes to answer the door.
“Fucking shit,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket and googling the closest laundromat. I finally get a hit on one not too far from The Last Drop, which is good considering I could do with a beer right about now.
Shoving my phone back into my pocket I head over there, wondering how the fuck we are supposed to get our washer fixed and why Logan hasn’t already got it sorted.
It’s no surprise that he’s the more organized of the two of us. Probably the more domesticated too. Maybe it’s got something to do with having a long-term girlfriend, I have no idea, but usually when things go to shit around the house, he takes care of it.
Well, him and Reid when Reid used to live with us.
I find a park on the street outside the laundromat and haul ass inside with my bag of dirty clothes. I have no idea what the story is with these places, having never used one before, but when I walk inside, I see rows and rows of washing machines and on the opposite wall, a row of dryers.
There’s chairs and vending machines too and mounted on the wall is an old-school TV that’s got some cartoon playing. The place is empty except for this old couple sitting down the far end, neither of them talking as they both sit watching their clothes spin around in the dryer.
I walk toward the first washing machine, opening the lid and emptying my clothes into it. Slamming it shut, I look at the controls, wondering how this all works.
Quarters. It needs fucking quarters. Seriously?
I check my pockets for coins but only come up with a couple of five dollar bills and a pack of gum.
“Shit,” I say, kicking the machine because obviously it’s its fault I don’t have the money.
“Can I help?”
I spin around to find a girl standing behind me. She’s got a basket of laundry on her hip and a half smile on her lips and fuck me if she isn’t hot as hell.
Grinning, I take a step toward her. “I don’t know, can you?”
Her smile disappears as she rolls her eyes and drops her basket of laundry on top of one of the machines. “What’s the problem, coins jam?”
My smile widens. “Actually, I seem to have misplaced my coins.”
This girl, whoever she is, lifts a brow, clearly not believing a word I’m saying. “Misplaced them?”
“Right,” she says, sliding her basket over as she lifts the lid on her machine. “Or maybe you forgot to bring change?”
“Nooo,” I joke, dragging the word out as if to make a point.
She glances sideways, smirking at me. “Sure about that?”
I lean my hip against my machine, arms crossed over my chest as I hit her with a smile. “Okay, you got me,” I say, giving her a wink. “Think you can spot me some coins?”
She laughs now and I swear, the sound is intoxicating, amazing and somehow on a hardline straight to my dick. “And why would I give you my coins, huh?”
“Oh I don’t know,” I say playfully, my eyes flicking to the machine she’s now loading her washing into. “I mean I could give you something in return.”
She’s holding up a black bra, the scrap of material dangling from her fingers as she looks at me. It’s all lacy and shit and is definitely the kind of bra that looks sexy as hell on and even better when you’re peeling it off. I can’t resist grinning, my eyes locking onto the piece of underwear she’s still holding.
“I mean I could offer to fold your laundry for you,” I say, my eyes meeting hers before flicking back to the bra she still holds.
She drops it into the machine. “Right, and I’d want your hands all over my underwear why exactly?”
I let out a laugh, loving the kinda snarky, kinda flirty attitude this girl is giving me. “I don’t know, maybe you’d enjoy it?” I tease.
“Mmmm,” she murmurs as she slips a hand into her pocket before flipping a couple of quarters in my direction.
I fumble to catch them, half wishing we could keep this flirty thing going, even as I stick them in the coin slot and get the machine started. When both of our washers are running, I turn and lean back against mine, watching as she throws her detergent into her basket.
“So, what now?”
She looks over at me, a confused look on her face. “What do you mean, what now?”
“I mean, what do we do now?” I ask, arms out wide. “Do we wait, do we go get a drink, do we…” I trail off, wondering what she’d think if I suggested what was really on my mind.
She bursts out laughing. “Oh my fucking god, is this seriously your first time in a laundromat?”
“Yep,” I say, crossing my legs at the ankles. “Safe to say, you have officially popped my cherry.”
She smirks at me now, not embarrassed at all by my remark. “Wow, hope it was memorable.”
Now it’s me laughing. “Well yeah, it was actually. Could be more so though…”
“I see,” she replies, glancing at the old couple still watching their clothes dry. “And how exactly could it be that?”
My mouth curls into a sly grin, my eyes meeting hers. “Oh well you know, we could always—”
My words are cut off by the old dude suddenly jumping up from his chair and letting out a weird yelp as his dryer stops. This girl and I glance at each other, a confused expression on her face that I am sure mirrors my own as we both turn back and watch him pull his clothes out, the old lady not moving as she watches him slowly fold these huge white Y-fronts and pile them up on the table.
“Shit, you think this is like their date night?” I whisper, unable to look away.
“Yeah,” she whispers back to me. “And it’s gotta be the lamest date night ever.”
I turn to her, taking advantage of the fact that she’s still watching them by totally checking her out. She’s maybe like a foot shorter than me, with this long brown curly hair that I’m suddenly itching to run my fingers through. I’ve never seen her before, so I have no idea if she goes to Hawthorn or if she’s a local. If she does go to Hawthorn, I certainly haven’t seen her around campus. Maybe she’s just transferred here?
She must sense me watching her, turning to face me, her huge brown eyes locking with mine and widening when she realizes I’ve been staring at her.
“You wanna grab a drink with me?” I blurt out.
She blinks once, swallowing hard as she continues to stare at me. “Ummm…”
“Yes Matt, of course I do, that sounds fantastic,” I suggest, finishing her sentence.
She smiles now, before bursting out laughing. “Really?” she says, grinning. “Does this really work for you?”
I swallow quickly, trying not to show my disappointment at her reaction. “Usually, yeah,” I tell her. “Come on, what do you say, one drink?”
She tips her chin at me, mirroring my pose as she now crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t know,” she starts, but she’s smiling, making me think she’s considering it.
“Come on,” I plead, hand on my heart as I give her my best puppy dog eyes. “I’ll do anything.”
“Anything,” I confirm.
Her smile widens now. “Okay then, truth or dare?”
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