“So my mom’s being a bitch and won’t buy us the bed,” she said as she flicked through his Netflix account. She paused over his “recently viewed” section and narrowed her eyes slightly at the hot girl in the movie he was halfway through.
Her boyfriend of two years, Michael, was sitting next to her, head in his phone. He was listlessly sifting through Snapchats of his friends’ nights out, half wishing he was at Thirsty Thursday instead of cuddling in bed with his long term girlfriend. Again. As a snap from Jessica, the girl he had hooked up when they were on a break popped up, he quickly exited the app and turned towards his girlfriend.
“That’s okay. We can just bring this bed,” He said, patting the queen she had insisted on getting last year when she moved out of the dorms.
“Michael,” she started, looking exasperated. “We are not going to start our life together with a fucking queen sized mattress.”
His heart froze at the phrase “starting our life together” and he hoped she didn’t notice the blood leaving his face. It’s not that he didn’t love her. He did. But the fact that he’d be living the last year of his college career with his girlfriend seemed sort of crazy to him. Sure, he loved her. But he had envisioned ending with a bang and spending time in bars with his brothers while he still had the chance and liver strength.
“Well, I don’t know,” he finished lamely, plucking the remote out of her hands and trying to find something that wouldn’t make him feel like his balls were being removed.
She averted her gaze from the 50-inch television her parents had given her as a “we miss you” present and wondered why they were being so mean. Sure, she knew that they weren’t too keen on her and Micahel living together. But honestly, they knew how serious she was about him. And it’s not like they thought she was a virgin. Her mom learned that that time in high school when she forgot to knock before entering her bedroom.
She drummed her fingers on her open laptop, filled with tabs of apartment decorating pins and mattress websites. It’s not so much that she needed a king size bed. I mean, she did. But it was more the fact that she wanted him to be involved. I mean, hello? First comes love. Then comes moving into an apartment pre-grad. Then comes a candle lighting and Tiffany’s ring by spring. But she’d never get that two (okay, three, if she was being honest) carat princess cut if he wasn’t going to get invested in their future.
“I feel like you’re being sort of unhelpful with all of this,” she uttered finally, as Micahel glanced away from the television (The Office? Again?), forgetting completely about the conversation they were having.
“No baby. No, I’m not, I’m sorry,” he backtracked, rubbing his instantly-sweaty hands on her white down comforter. “What do you think we should do?”
She casually shrugged, trying to figure out the best move. She had just barely gotten him to agree to live together. After a few tears, a stellar Powerpoint, a few days worth of slutty Snapchats mixed with the fact that he really was in love with her, he finally agreed. Sure, she might have given him a bit of an ultimatum, but whatever. The point was, he agreed and they were moving in together.
To celebrate, they had spent the past weekend going from complex to complex checking out her favorite apartments. Finally, despite wanting something a little cheaper, he agreed to the 900 square-foot one bedroom with attached sunroom/study that she bad become obsessed with. They had a meeting with the complex set up for next week, and in the meantime, she was in full planning mode.
She got shaken out of her trance of choosing a living room color scheme when his phone rang. He glanced at the name before silencing the call and turning it over with an annoyed look on his face.
“Who was that?” She asked, adding some decorative vases to her Amazon Prime account.
“Just the guys,” he muttered, turning the volume up on the TV. “I’m sure they want me to go out.”
She bristled at his tone but chose not to comment. He tried to hide the fact that this whole thing felt very un-collegeish to him as she clicked out of an Ikea bedroom set. “We’re not getting fucking Ikea,” he heard her mutter before pursing her lips and coming to a highly rated, $1200 king mattress. It was gor-geous. And the suggested bed frame, box spring and headboard were like something straight out of her Pinterest. She inhaled a sharp breath as she saw they offered it in a beautiful, Dark Espresso wood. Mentally she paired it with her crafted maps in handmade frames and the tasteful paddles from her two littles and was immediately sold. This was the bedroom set for her. This would make her happy.
She clicked “select all” to the whole set and glanced at the total. $2700. Dammit. There’s no way she could put that on her dad’s card without him noticing. She briefly considered sending it to him anyway, hoping that when he saw the dazzling finished wood he wouldn’t be able to say no. But as her mom’s shrill voice rang in her ears, she knew it was no hope.
“I don’t see why you need to live together,” her mother had lectured, when she announced her plan via FaceTime last week. “That’s the fastest way to push a guy away!”
She held her tongue before she yelled back that of course of mother knew about ruining marriages, she was already on her third. No. She decided to be mature (and there was a Kate Spade she was just dyinnnngggg for) and thanked her mother for her input but insisted that this was the right move. Finally, her parents agreed that they would fund her half of the apartment, but they were not paying for “any extras.” She tried to argue that new bedroom furniture wasn’t “extra” but for once, they put their foot down.
Still, she thought, quickly pulled out her iPhone and doing some calculations. With her part-time retail job and his paid internship, it was totally doable. $1350 each on something they’d use for at least twoish years? Not bad at all. She turned towards Michael, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
“Babeee! I think I have it figured out!” She said in the breathy voice that she knew immediately turned him on.
He sat up and turned towards her, a look of expectation in his eyes.
“Why don’t we buy the bed?” She asked, with a tone of finality in her voice.
“Wh-what? Baby that would be great but I don’t think we can afford a…” he leaned over to glance at the screen, “a twenty-seven HUNDRED dollar bed. I mean come on. We’re college students.”
He could see the pout start to form on her plump, seductive lips.
“Are you suuuuure?” She purred, knowing exactly what card she needed to use now. The way his skin had flushed and he had pulled the covers around his pelvis made one thing clear: he was getting turned on. And she was going to use it to her advantage.
She put her computer down and turned to him, promptly straddling his midsection and leaning forward, a curtain of bleached-blonde hair falling across her face. “We could split it,” she murmured in his ear, her warm, minty breath hitting his neck and making the hairs raise. “Maybe you could put in on your card,” she hissed, nibbling near his collarbone, “and I could pay you back…” she let the sentence linger and her finger trailed down his now-open shirt. She halted at his belt, holding it in one hand and glanced up at him expectantly.
“So, what do you think?” She breathed on his bare stomach, slowly undoing the belt buckle and resting her hand on the front of his jeans. She watched as he tried to reason with what was happening, but
lust love was clouding his vision. He reached over, grabbed his leather wallet off of the nightstand and took out his credit card.
“Let’s do it,” he moaned, tossing it to her and willing to do anything to have her move just a little more south. Maybe living with a girlfriend won’t be so bad, he thought as she lowered her head. Maybe it would all work out..
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