By the time it did, I gathered my wet clothes and went back to my room. Barry had made himself comfortable on my bed and was flicking through TV channels with my remote.
He looked right at home, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the view. These new feelings were not only unwelcome, but also inappropriate and bound to get me in trouble.
"I ordered us a pizza." He told me without breaking his gaze. "And Monday night football pre-show stuff starts in a few."
"Sounds good." I agreed. I looked around my room, anxious to choose the right place to sit. Sitting on the chair would be uncomfortable in this state of drunkenness, but the bed was out of the question with Barry sitting on it, looking like a Greek god in casual ware.
There was the futon I bought at IKEA, but that seemed too
