Deal
Fandom: Dinner in America (2020) summary: you bring home a street dog. length: LONG warnings: NSFW 21+ ONLY, holy hell this got away from me quickly, friends to lovers, strong language, explicit content, i tried to write this like the film comes across so yeah, unprotected p in v, money shot, detailed smut, dirty talking.
ENJOY!!!
Black Beauty was certainly a choice, Simon thought as he pocketed some folded and creased cash in the bathroom of the towns' arcade. He eyed the busted speaker in the corner above the stalls, as if this was some sort of motivation for kiddos to shoot hoops or play table hockey. If a speaker was that janked up why would anyone wanna' come here? Fuckin' hell this place, he thought. Not exactly the best way to cheer on some game go-ers. He had just zipped up his backpack, patting it for good measure and a nervous tick he'd recently picked up, before unlatching the handicapped stall.
"You can't do that in here."
He jumped.
Startled on impact as the broken speaker got louder during the first run of the chorus, he saw you standing there blocking the door, arms crossed, pissed. Fuckin' hot.
"You do know this is the Men's room right?" Simon said after clicking his teeth, his vision getting slightly blurry and he couldn't be sure, couldn't be one hundred percent if it was because of the drugs or if this was a side effect of one his drug trials he'd been doing to get Psypos a real EP deal. Or if this was something that happened whenever he saw you.
"I can read, asshole." You straightened your shoulders as he marveled at the way the stripes of your Arcade shirt did your tits fuckin' wonders. "This is the third time I've had to tell you to knock it off, man. I don't care that you're a drug dealer or whatever the fuck you're up to but please, my old man is gonna' stroke out if you don't stop selling in here," you pushed off the door and stood, watching him wash his hands for no good reason. He didn't even piss. "Do it in the lot out back for all I care, or by the dumpsters; just not in the building, okay?"
Simon scrunched his nose as he reached around you for the loose, brown, cheap paper towels. "Maybe don't have such a dingy bathroom then."
"Dude come on! you know we're short staffed."
Simon scoffed and opened the door. "Not my problem."
"I'll make you a deal." Your voice trailed off as the door closed with a squeak.
Simon sighed and kicked the door back open with a heavy boot kick. "What kinda' deal, cutie?"
It was your turn to mimic him as you sighed and moved to stand and block the threshold, barking at the older man behind him to cool his jets, that he wasn't done yet talking.
"In exchange for you inot selling drugs in my dad's arcade …I'll finally let you take me out." You proposed.
Simon took a beat and finally cackled in your face.
"What?"
"Yeah right!"
"What do you mean, 'yeah right'? you've been asking to take me out for years!" You balked and stared him down, looking even better when you were mad at him. "Now I'm saying let's go out you're too good for it?"
"I'm not falling for that horse shit! what do you think I am? some loser?" Simon rounded his shoulders, clenched his jaw and bent down, hands at his hips as he stared down at you with his piercing eyes. "I don't want some fucking pity date neither. I want a real god damn date."
"And what would be a real date mean to you, Simon? Jimbo's?"
Simon scoffed. "I wouldn't dream of taking you to Jimbo's, you're not a pineapple kinda' gal anyway and if I recall, the ham looked very questionable to you."
You jerked your head back, your eyes widening. "You remember that?"
"I remember all sorts of weirdo shit." Simon said and took the cigarette he had tucked away from behind his ear, stuck it between his teeth and knocked you under the chin before heading out of the urinal cake heavy bathroom.
….
What you said was true; Simon had been damn near been this close to getting on his knees to ask you out. You always turned him down which he didn't blame you for one bit. He was an outsider, the black sheep of his wealthy family, loner stoner. He liked being on his own, he could figure shit out and work through some his life's choices. Come to terms with being a nomad. Oh and to hide from the cops, that was always hanging around him like a bad habit. Which he had several. He smoked too much, drank too much, swore too much. The image of his dramatic mother covering her ears whenever he let a string of colorful language, both annoyed him to his wits' end and yet he felt accomplished for the day.
It was rare for Simon to feel too bad about anything he'd done in the past. But there was a sinking feeling growing like a pest in between his ribs and he didn't know where to start to solve it. Maybe stopping by the arcade would help, or maybe he was just hungry. A cigarette was in high demand, the scratching of nicotine withdrawals was starting to gnaw on his nerves, just like his busted nail beds.
Simon checked the time on the analog clock through the darkness, cupping around his eyes through the glass of the ice cream shop. The red lettering was less harsh at night. He blew smoke out through his nose in the arcade before tossing the butt of the cigarette into a lone puddle by the front door. Maybe two or three cars were left in the lost as he passed by a family for four laughing and carrying on. It hurt his ears. He rolled his eyes and clinked his way into the building.
"Hey, just so you know we close up in about fifteen minutes. We're open at eleven tomorrow and Saturday." Your voice dang out to him from somewhere inside. The smell of popcorn, his favorite lifted his spirits a bit at least and made his belly growl just the same. There were only four begs left of cotton candy left behind the concession stand. Maybe if you were feeling generous, you'd toss him a bag on the way out.
Then he saw you. Eyes trained and zeroed in on his target. You were bent over one of the skee-ball platforms, denim skin tight, he stared at your ass when you moved. Simon liked the way you moved. He licked his lips and carefully crept up behind you.
"I know."
"Jesus, Simon! what the hell are you doing here?" You shouted and feel onto the base, wincing and grabbing at your ribs. He did apologize through his teeth as he took your hand and helped you back to your feet. Christ, again with the fuckin' stripes. "Listen no funny business tonight man, got an earful from my dad already."
" 's not that. I came to apologize."
"Ha! YOU apologizing? that's rich." You said and dusted off the front of you jeans.
Simon couldn't blame you for that remark. He didn't usually apologize for shit. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and ago. rocked on the balls of his feet.
"I didn't mean to be so short with you the other day. My shits' fucked."
"What else is new?" You folded your arms again and that made Simon very conscious of his idangerous surroundings.
Simon sighed and decided to dig out the crumpled flyer. You took it curiously and unfolded the creases. You eyed him narrowly then down to the paper.
"Simon; what the actual fuck?" You shouted, covering your mouth while he stood there being reprimanded by the girl of his dreams.
"I know. It's bad." He kicked the carpet. The same carpet that he was almost sure the original flooring your father had installed at the grand opening twenty some years ago now. Maybe longer. His memory fired out a shot of needing a pick-me-up, he held tightly onto a pill bottle in his pocket like a fidget toy.
"Bad? dude you're fucking screwed!" You couldn't take your eyes off the flyer. "Five thousand dollar reward? no way you can get any kind of money like that!"
"What am I supposed to do, huh? I can't go home. I'm running out of money, these drug trial suck ass, I'm out on the street fucking high, sleeping where I can, eating when I can."
"When was the last time you ate?" You asked, shaking your head in disappointment.
"Mmmm I had a cheeseburger… yesterday." He admitted.
"Yesterday?!" You shook your head again and walked off behind the counter leaving him alone with his jarring thoughts of how you might, one day see that he was over the moon about you. It wasn't just the banter, the back and forth over the years or the way you talked ito him, not at him. It wasn't just a game he was playing. He had real, genuine feelings and it broke his heart a bit, made him harder, meaner. All those emotions and no one to tell them to caused a lot of Simons' issues. His parents never listened to him, his sister was a terrible gas lighter and her annoying, that's putting it rather bluntly, brother-in-law egged her on. They like the drama. They create it.
Trouble finds Simon, not the other way around.
"Come on," you called out, shaking a red and white popcorn container like letting a pet know it's dinner time. "I'm taking you home."
Simon shuffled his feet towards you waiting at the door, twirling the keys around your finger. "I told you; I can't go home."
"No, not yours," you said and held out the bucket, pushed open the night into the cooler night air. Simon ducked under your arm as he took a handful of the treat and knocked it back like his pills, crunching his way outside. "I'm taking you home like the stray that you are."
….
You stopped your car around the corner from the house you rented with one of your friends from college, she would be moving out soon, moving away for work for a bit. A stable adult, Simon thought as he squeezed the pill bottle again for good luck, a crutch he knew would be there for him when he needed it.
"Get out."
"What? I thought--"
"Relax, no need to panic. Meet me at the backdoor, just in case the boys in blue are out for blood tonight." You counter with a smile. He likes your smile. iA lot.
He unlocked the door and pushed it open. Only it didn't open. Instead, in his haste to get out of the car he whacked his head on the window.
"Ow! what the fuck?" Simon grabbed his temple.
"Oh my god, Simon! I totally forgot, my door has been sticking for a few days I don't know why. I haven't had time to get it fixed, here." You unbuckled your seatbelt and leaned across the console, a rush of your perfume or whatever it was you were wearing wafted over him. Like a cartoon smelling a freshly baked pie on a windowsill. You reached across him, leaning on him you jingled the handle and gave it a shove and sure enough it dislodged with a squeak.
Simon looked at you, closer than he had ever before, he could see the flakes of mascara on the tip of your lashes. The bridge and slope of your nose, the shape of cheeks when he noticed your face splitting into a bashful smile.
He shook his head, no way that interaction lasted that long he thought as he got out and started walking towards your blocks' alley way. More puddles to avoid, he kicked a rock until he reached your backyard. Simon hopped the fence and waited to see when you'd turn on the lights. It wasn't long, the kitchen stove light came on and he watched you check the doorway of the living room before unlocking the back door. He slunk in, again making himself small to fit in beside you as you looked out the window then locked the door.
"Roommate is asleep." You said once you two made it up the creaking stairs, one by one. You carefully shut her bedroom door, a light projection on her ceiling from the look of it. Simon thought he's wake up like a nightmare if he woke up and saw space like that.
"Come on." You tugged the sleeve of his jacket across the hall, opening your bedroom to him.
"So this is where the magic happens?" Simon joked but also bit his tongue because of course there were men or women in this room you'd slept with.
"If by magic, you mean solo sessions, then yes." You tossed your purse on a desk, hung your keys on a ring and took off your jewelry.
"Christ." He hadn't thought of that but now … sheesh.
"You got another pair of clothes in that bag of wonders?" You asked turning on what looked to be some sort of warm glowing rock.
"Afraid not."
"Alright."
You told him to stay put as you left the room, he could hear some rummaging about as he looked around your room, overwhelmed by the obviously, heavy presence of iyou in here. Your clothes, shoes, books stacked underneath a window, lace curtains, plush looking rugs. Pictures of you and your friend taped to a dirty mirror.
"Here," you locked eyes with him in the mirror as you came in with a stack of things. You dropped them on the bed. They bounced a little. "Take a shower, brush your teeth, do whatever you need to do. I'm gonna' take and wash your clothes, ok?"
"And what am I supposed to wear in the mean time? this your way of getting to see the goods without going on our date first?" Simon asked smugly, picking up a new toothbrush, biting into the bristles.
You rolled your eyes and bent over a dresser and pulled out a pair of grey boxers and tossed them at his face.
"I'm not wearing some other dudes underwear, sicko." Simon snorted.
"Those are mine."
"What? did you grow a dick or somethin'?"
"No," you walked over and picked up the towels and shoved him into his chest. "I like to wear them in the summer time. It gets hot as fuck in here."
"Just these?" Simon asked as you started to push him towards the door.
"Just those."
….
The sandwich you made him filled him right up, he didn't miss a bite or crumb. He slammed an entire bottle of beer and had cracked another as you sat your desk, watching him engorged himself. You watched him as if he were an animal in the zoo. Curious about his next move.
"Slow down, you're gonna' choke." You laughed.
" 's that damn good. What you put in this thing?" he asked taking his last bite, sitting on your bed, hunched over the plate you served him. "It's delicious."
"It's my love language I guess."
Simon coughed.
"You know like some people prefer gifts or grand gestures or like… words of affirmation? I enjoy cooking and making people food to show I care." You answered with a shrug.
"You care about me?" Simon asked, asking if politely if he could smoke in your room to which, by his surprise you nodded and pointed over the window.
"Of course I care about you, dummy. I'd be a lost cause in this fuck ass town if it weren't for you."
That hit him hard. He merely thought you tolerated his actions not that you might actually care about him. That you were just being nice. But hearing your concern earlier in the arcade, that you drove him home, hell that you drove him ianywhere and now had sheltered and fed him… things might looking up for once.
"Same." Was all he could muster.
He felt better that's for sure. His stomach thanked him and his eyes felt clear. Two beers was nothing.
You offered him water, which he declined. To which you urged. It would help him sleep at least.
"And where shall I be sleeping? that rug over there looks pretty tempting." Simon pointed with another cigarette towards the corner of your room. Good place for a street dog like myself, he thought.
"You could or--"
"There's an or option?"
You smiled sarcastically. "There's the couch downstairs, just be quiet and no T.V."
"Is it a school night, mom?"
"Watch it or I'll send you back out on the street."
You stood and snatched his plate, directing Simon with your eyes to put out the almost done anyway smoke.
"Those my two choices? sleep on the couch or in the corner like a good boy. Alright."
"You're gonna' be my good boy for the night?" you joked with a devious smile that touched him inside. And he had never felt so vulnerable in his life, standing there taking orders in just a pair of boxers and a full belly. Some people don't get to be this kind of rich. "Keep watch."
He swallowed hard.
He didn't know it until was already happening. Like a train wreck. A head on collision as he grabbed your head in his hands, both thumbs over you cheeks as he kissed you. He pulled back like you were on fire.
"What are you doing?"
Shit. "I'm so sorry, that wasn't cool." Simon shook his head, his freshly washed hair swaying lightly with almost little to no grease on his scalp. "I didn't ask for consent," he suddenly slapped one side of his head and began to pace, tugging on the dark strands. "Always ask for permission! I'm sorry."
"Are you actually sorry you just kissed me or is it more about just doing it?" You asked, he could you watching him. His senses were all over the place.
"Just doin' it I guess." Simon said. "I make a big deal about consent and I fucked it all up. Stupid."
"Fuck it," he heard you but didn't see you until you were at his back, bumping him up against the wall. His eyes wider than saucers. "You have my permission this time."
He fumbled over his words as if his tongue was too big. "Uh… you're fuckin' with me right?"
You pressed further into his chest for more evidence, you smiled up at him. Really smiled. "Do I look like I'm fucking with you?"
"This fuckin' rules!" Simon cheered and kissed you again, his hands sliding and gliding all over you head and face, he gripped the back of your neck at one point and licked the side of your face. "Fuck your lips are soft. I could do this all day."
The way you demanded 'Tongue kiss me' after biting your lip, sent him spiraling. He couldn't get closer to you, to feel your skin, your hands on him, you even squeezed his ass, moving your heads together in unison. Like he'd been gone for years, held to M.I.A status and he'd walked in the front door. He moaned when you licked into his mouth, cradling your face in his hands. He couldn't get enough. He was a touch starved person and you were successfully filling the void.
He turned his head and pressed his nose into your cheek, breathing you in. "No one wake me up. This is so tits. Best night ever."
He smiled when you snorted and pressed his back into the wall, resting your elbows on the tops of his shoulders, digging into the space on his collarbone. You grabbed handfuls of his hair, staring into his eyes.
"I need to tell you something."
He scrunched his nose. "You didn't actually grow a dick did you? cause I mean… I'll work with you got, no problem."
You laughed and pressed your head against his chest for a moment of reprieve. "No, stupid. I… I know who you are."
" 'course you do."
"No, man like… I know about the other you."
"What are you talking about?" Simon feigned to check you temp, the back of his busted knuckles on your temple. "Are you having a stroke?"
"No! I mean, I know-- you're John Q."
Simon narrowed his eyes, heart racing looking down at you there in his arms. "No one know what John Q looks like. He wears a mask for a reason."
It started to feel really warm in your room, he needed his pills, another possibly stronger drink. A blunt might help.
"It's not the mask that gave you away, Si."
He didn't know what to expect but you called him that, looked at him like that, he just knew he didn't want to be anywhere else. He just stood there in awe of you, you moved your hands to cover his forehead with one hand and his nose and mouth the other.
"I knew it was you by your eyes."
"You came to a show?" He said behind the palm of your hand. You nodded once.
"A guy took me to a show a few months ago, nothing crazy but then we got separated and I ended up at the front of the crowd. You circled around, screaming in peoples' faces, someone bumped me. I bumped into you and we locked eyes," you explained gently, letting go of his hair but still toying with the damp ends. "I know those eyes, I thought. I've seen them before… their not new. You had a shiner under that mask, I remember. I never said anything or told anyone and I don't plan to."
"Fuckin' hell. I think I love you." Simon breathed and kissed you hard and fast, tearing at your belt, in a hurry to get those tight jeans off your body, his fingers clumsy with the button and zipper. He walked you back to your bed, tripping a bit over his boots. You dropped onto you bed, helping him undress you. He stopped, nervous fingers on the tops of your thighs, standing between your now bare legs. He squeezed the meat of them.
"I think this is the first time I've ever seen your legs." He felt a chill run down his spine as you moved your legs further apart, rubbing the back of his leg with one of your feet, drawing him in, closer.
"What's the verdict?"
"Fuckin' tits." He chuckled and climbed on top of you, he placed a hand at your side before cupping your face. "How those ribs feelin', sweetheart?"
You smiled. "I'm alright."
"You sure? nothing busted or broken right?"
"I'm okay, baby."
"Oh I'm baby now, huh?" Simon could get used to this, he still shy of your side as he nuzzled his stubbly face into your throat.
"Do you wanna' be? I thought you were gonna' be a good boy for me tonight."
Simon snapped his head up so fast he definitely thought he pulled something in his neck. "You're fuckin' with me? I cannot be this lucky."
"I don't know maybe-- hey!" Simon bit into the side of your neck, just below your ear. He licked and kissed the area, smiling against your skin when you squirmed and mewled beneath him. He grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart, covering your hand there under his own.
"My heart beats for you, ya' know."
"I didn't know you were a romantic, Simon." You smiled and looked so pretty under him.
"I can be a lot of things."
….
No one wake him up.
No one wake him up, no one wake him up, noonewakehimup…
Simon was floating, suspended there laying on your bed as you had taken control of the situation at hand, rolling him onto his back was a piece of cake. Showing his belly like the good boy he was desperate to be. He kept touching your face, making sure you were in fact real. This wasn't one of his dreams. He stared at the ceiling when you started lapping at his neck, taking bites and leaving behind kisses the lower you moved. You found out that he was indeed quite ticklish, giggling against his belly for him to be quiet but it was no use. He was putty in your hands, scratching at his hips, digging into his thighs. He did get a little nervous when you grabbed and snapped the band on his(your) boxers. He told you to be careful, precious cargo is down there. You just laughed and rubbed your face against his groin, teasing him as you crawled back up and ground yourself down on him. iBad girl.
You stared him down.
"What?"
You just smiled and continued grinding against him until you took off your shirt. That damned striped shirt that he was certain would be the death of him. You wore a matching set of underwear, he was aware of that. He watches porn, has been to the strip club in the city, rubbed one or two out to some choice polaroid's he'd been receiving in the mail but this… oh, this was something special.
He pulled at the straps of your bra, letting them fall, he leaned up just enough to grab one strap between his teeth. He undid the clasps expertly, tossing it to the floor. He grabbed at your breasts greedily, which you didn't seem to mind as you tossed your head back, moaning and moving in his lap. He licked at the side one, holding them in his hands he felt dizzy.
"This okay, sweetheart?"
"Keep going." Was all you breathed, fisting his hair, pressing his face into your breasts. He licked and kissed them, rubbing his stubble and mustache against your sensitive skin. He was going to have such a fun time with you.
Simon didn't know where you began and he ended, he was so aware and in tune with what you were doing with those hands of yours. You looked so angelic as he fucked you, on your back, reaching out for him. Moaning for him. That boosted his ego more than humanly possible, ihe was the one make you arch like that, he was the one making those eyes of yours glisten and shine. Simon grunted loudly when you wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him further into your core.
He bent down on his haunches, holding onto your hips, pressing and thrusting himself against you. At one point your hips had left the bed entirely, held up by strong and calloused hands at his disposal. You gripped at your sheets, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. Fucking perfect.
You somehow looked even more beautiful, sweating a bit in the glow of your lamps, digging your fingernails into his chest when you rode him.
"Jesus Christ, Y/N! you lookin' to kill me, or what, huh?" Simon huffed out, his hands behind his head letting you do whatever you wanted. Make a toy out of him if you so desired. This was a new mania he could easily get addicted to. The way you looked at him, the way you moaned and took your pleasure from him so seriously. Closing his eyes he tried his best to calm himself down, to tell himself this was really happening. He was actually getting to be the man to turn you on. He finally got his shot and he wasn't about to mess up the one thing he had going for him. He got scared for a moment, lost in thoughts of what new positions he could roll you into when he felt you leave him. You panted as you stood at the foot of the bed, licking your lips.
"Where are you go--"
"I want it from the back."
"Whatever you want, cutie." Simon grinned, a real fucking smile getting up and pushing you down, he held your head down on the mattress for a pregnant moment, thanking what luck had befell this midwestern dog. "You want back shots from a mutt, from a fuckin' street dog? you got it, sweetheart."
Simon fucked you hard, your cries for more and harder weren't as quiet as you'd liked. Something was thrown at your door sometime in the middle of the night, Simon wasn't sure what round you two had tangled yourselves in but it was worth it. He spanked you, making you yelp as he took your hands, dropping you face down with a little bounce and oh how your ass jiggled to his liking. He moved them so you held onto your ankles and he pounded into your cunt a little faster.
"Fucks sake, Simon. That's it! Don't stop." You groaned and wiggled in this new position.
"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart." Simon panted, enjoying the praise. Maybe this was one of those love languages you had mentioned, he wanted to be good to you. For you. "Those ribs still good, yeah?"
You only nodded and whined into the blankets.
"You-- fuck… you wanna' know somethin' cutie?"
"Y-yeah, tell me somethin' baby." You keened when he reached between your legs, mixing what pre-cum and juices from the both of you over your clit, pressing them hard against your clit.
He bent further over your back, hunching himself there, sticking himself to you. Becoming one.
"I want to destroy you and fill you with me." You groaned at that confession, spurring him on as his thrusts became faster and sloppier and louder too. "I want you so badly in any fuckin' way I god damn can. Like this. On all fours for a mutt like me, just for me, on your back like a fuckin' pillow princess. Jesus. I want to violate you, you feel so fuckin' good. Look so fucking good too."
"I want you, baby. Such a good fucking boy for me. F-fuck I'm close, make me cum, Simon. Please! Please make me cum."
You were breathless, fucking gorgeous and breathless, he'd never seen anything like it. If he had a good, working phone he'd wanna' record at least the sound of your sex. He lost it when you started sobbing when Simon started to thrust slower, pacing himself when he started patting your clit. He could feel you gush around him, another fresh wave of wetness and desire flooded around the base of his cock. He bit your shoulder.
"Ah ha, Simon! bite me again baby, I'm gonna' cum."
He smiled against your back, feeling you reaching those final moments of bliss, screaming his name into the covers. Another thing was thrown at your door.
"Fuck yeah, cutie. Cum for me, that's right. Cum for me, sweetheart." Simon groaned after you came, feeling the gummy walls of your cunt pulse in any desperate effort to milk him dry. He pulled out, jerking himself out he hadn't realized the image of you sliding off the bed, onto the floor, in an obedient place on your knees, your smeared face right there. He asked. You nodded.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Simon shot his load all across your face, thankfully you'd just shut your eyes in time. He made some unexpected noise at the back of his throat, pornographic at best, animalistic at most when he watched with sheer delight you smile before opening your mouth, the pink of your tongue poking out to taste his load.
"Oh fuck off." He said under his breath, watching you, soft and warm, twiddling your fingers on your thighs.
He got down himself, at your level he grabbed your sticky face and kissed you hard, opening his mouth he licked inside, rubbing his tongue against yours. As if you'd both been instructed you both on your own accord got up onto your knees, kissing deeper. So deep some of his cum dripped off your face and had snuck its way into your mouths. You groaned against him at the salty flavor, tugging his hair again.
….
Simon doesn't know where he is when he wakes. He's woken up in some wild places, if he actually gave a shit or had time to kill he might stir the pot and tell you. Other than that, he'd get up from a couch or park bench, under a bridge or on someone's floor and start his day. This time though, the air is familiar, the color of the room. The softness of a bed beneath him though is a big change of pace. He wipes at his eyes, scrubs his palms at his face.
He sat up quickly, looking around at your empty room. He touched the side of your bed you had eventually fallen asleep, the shape of your head still present on your pillow. He checked the sheets; still naked. He did spot something on your desk though, his clothes freshly washed and folded neatly. He'd just pulled his cut up tank top over his head, fumbling down your stairs to the smell of coffee and eggs. You were there in a baggy t-shirt and your own pair of boxers, dancing to some song coming from some speaker he hadn't spotted just yet. You flipped some eggs onto a plate like a pro, three plates were set out.
He opened his mouth to tell you he'd take a look at your care door but fell silent when he heard a woman clear her throat, startled he turned to see at the small kitchenette table, your roommate. You snorted a laugh, looking at him over your shoulder.
"So… you must be Simon."
