The Sex Surrogate(8)

By: Jessica Gadziala



And was he attractive? Seriously? Would any woman answer that with an 'eh, seen better' ? Because I was pretty sure I hadn't. He was like a walking model for a suit catalog. And those eyes...

Alright. Enough of that.

If I concentrated on how good looking he was, it would only make me more nervous. Because, apparently, I only had one more session before I had to get naked with him.

I sighed, unlocking my apartment door and stepping inside.

“Still frigid?”

“What?” I asked, my heart flying up into my throat.

“You left your computer up,” Jake, my pain in the ass roommate said, walking into the living room with an enormous bowl of cereal, wearing nothing but a pair of thick gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. Jake was extremely good looking. And completely aware of it.

He was slightly over six feet with sandy blonde hair, longer on top and pushed back from his forehead, bright green eyes, and tan skin over the body he spent endless hours in the gym working on.

He was also a jerk.

“So, you thought that meant you could just... go through my fucking browser history?” I asked, slamming the door and dropping my keys on the table.

“That wasn't the plan,” he said, dropping down onto the couch and staring at the TV.

“What was the plan then?” I asked, kicking his gym shoes out of the middle of the floor.

“You have that huge screen,” he said, turning to me with a smirk I didn't trust. “I'm tired of watching porn on my phone.”

“Oh, gross.”

“Well, some of us have sexual urges.”

“You're such a fucking asshole,” I growled, grabbing the box of cereal off the kitchen counter and putting it back in the cabinet.

I don't know why I put up with him. He was a slob. Insensitive. He had wild parties in the middle of the week. He brought an endless barrage of women home, leaving early in the morning to hit the gym, and making me to deal with them. God, I can't count how many of those awkward morning talks I've had. The 'he's an asshole, you can do so much better' talks.

Fact of the matter was, it was an expensive freaking city. And my job didn't pay that great. On my salary alone, I'd have to live in one of the shitty areas, worrying myself to ulcers about all the unseemly characters I shared a building with. So, unfortunately, my only other option was to find a roommate to live a better neighborhood.

So, I tolerated Jake. As I had already been doing for two and a half years.

“Hey,” he said, coming up behind me unexpectedly, putting his soggy cereal down on the counter next to me.

“What?” I snapped, staring out the window over the sink, bracing myself for the next unfeeling thing bound to come out of his mouth.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

Surprised, I turned, brows drawing together. “What?”

“Why didn't you tell me that you have like... issues with that?”

“Why would I?”

“Aw, love, that hurts,” he said, putting a hand over his heart. “I thought we were pretty close. I buy you fucking tampons for god's sake.”

“It's not something I like to talk about,” I said, shrugging a shoulder. Though I had to admit, it was sort of nice that someone knew. Someone saw the whole picture.

It was getting beyond irritating to go to family dinners and be teased relentlessly about my always being single. About how much my mother wanted grand babies. My coworkers getting annoyed at me when they discuss their sexcapades and I never had anything to pitch in.

“Christ, I feel like a dick, Ava,” he said, backing up and leaning against the kitchen island. “How many times did I pick at you about needing to get laid? If I had known you have like... problems...”

“You still would have teased me,” I said, smiling slightly. He might have felt like a heel, but the fact of the matter was... that was just his personality. He was always saying shit that got him in trouble. Hitting on women in front of their men. Telling the meatheads at the gym that they must be compensating for something. He seemed to have an innate ability to know just what buttons to press... and then push the fuck out of them.

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