More Than a Memory Read Online Free

in the dishwasher?”
    I almost question his GPA, but I can accept what I’m asking isn’t the norm. “No. I need you to wash the dish, then put it in the dishwasher, where it will be washed,” I say, enunciating every word to spell it out for him.
    “Again?” His tone forces me to realize he’s toying with me. Either he’s amused by my need for things to be super clean, or he’s trying to force me to realize how silly my rule is.
    I nod, narrowing my gaze. “Moving on. Towels have to be washed after each use.” He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Don’t give me some complaint about conserving energy or wasting water, I don’t want to hear it. My nerves wouldn’t be able to handle wet towels hanging in the bathroom.”
    “What if I take them to my room?”
    “Are you being obtuse? I’m not going to go into your room—that’s your private space—but it will drive me crazy if I know there’s a damp, mildewing towel in there. I think it’s best if you just wash it.”
    “Okay,” he says with a sigh, leaning back in his chair, his hands clasped against his stomach. I force my eyes away from his trim waist. “We’ll wash a load of towels each day. I can throw my workout clothes in there as well. They do better on a sanitize cycle anyway.”
    “ We’ll ? There’s no we here. I’m not washing your clothes, Bryson.”
    He grins at me. “Okaaay. I’ll wash your towel then. Really, I don’t mind.”
    My stomach turns as my face contorts in disgust. I try to hide my reaction, but I fail miserably. “Gross. My clothes aren’t coming in contact with yours. As a matter of fact, that brings me to rule number three. I need you to pour bleach in the machine and run it on a quick cycle after you’ve washed clothes. I’ll do the same.”
    “Once the load of laundry is done, the clothes are clean, Olivia. I don’t see a point in running an empty load. I’ll agree to not reusing towels—I’m not some ‘save mother earth’ tree hugger—but that is beyond wasteful.”
    I sigh and lean back in my own chair, mirroring his posture. “It’s nonnegotiable. I need things to be clean.”
    He looks around my kitchen. “I noticed. Is this one of those germaphobe fetishes?”
    I chuckle. “Fetish? No, definitely not a fetish. That word implies something of a sexual nature.”
    He hmphs, a deviant glint in his eyes. “Isn’t it, though? Sounds like you’re getting off on your rules over there.” I glare at him. “Fine. I’ll waste a load of water and some bleach. Listen, it’s clear you could spend the next hour telling me the ground rules, and I’ll do my best to follow each of them.”
    I narrow my eyes.
    “Seriously. I’ll do my best, but there’s no way I’m going to remember all of this. You need to email it to me.”
    “I can do that,” I state, nodding. I may even make up some labels for each rule and post them around the apartment. If the extensive rules happen to run him off, so be it.
    My cell phone alarm goes off and I silence it, but stand from the table.
    “It’s video chat time with Duncan,” I say as Bryson gives me a questioning glance.
    Not wasting any time, I wash my hands and head out of the kitchen.
    “If he knew I had a male roommate, he’d shit a brick,” I mutter to myself.
    “Wait,” Bryson’s booming voice stops me in my tracks, “you’re not going to tell him I’m living here?”
    I shake my head and walk out of the room.
    If only it were that simple.

Chapter 4
Bryson
    O livia walks away and my gaze drifts down to the subtle sway of her hips before dropping to her ass. I almost laugh at myself. She’s in sweats and an over-sized hoodie, not even the slightest hint of her curves, or possible lack thereof, and I can’t keep my eyes off her. There isn’t a drop of makeup on her face and her hair is a tangled mess on top of her head, stray strands hanging out everywhere, obviously not trying to impress me in the slightest, yet here I am, checking out an ass I