The Resident Weirdo

You don't need a roommate. You could easily afford spending a few months here and it would barely make a dent. But you're not alone here (in the general sense) and you're definitely not alone when you walk through the door to the condo.

Yukari. Her name's Yukari, and she is your best friend from college, and she is currently sitting on the floor in front of the couch playing the Playstation 2 she brought with her. A game you don't recognize goes by on the screen, sound mostly muted, often undercut by the sound of Yukari grunting and exclaiming as she plays. It looks like her earbuds are in -- she doesn't acknowledge you when you enter.

You've known Yukari for four years, maybe five. You met shortly after you started college: you were both attending the same English class, but this isn't what brought you together as friends -- that came later. One night, during a particularly **** period, you made a spur-of-the-moment decision to attend a support group for people with Late Bloomer Syndrome. Well, they called it a "support group," but it wasn't all doom and gloom, woe is me like you thought it would be. It was more like... well, a bunch of college kids ordering pizza and talking about their weird bodies with strangers. And this was surprisingly comforting -- you knew you weren't alone, duh, but actually talking with these people really helped. Made you less of a sad sack. And Yukari was there. She was wearing one of those bulky sweaters she always seemed to wear, so it was surprising when the course of a conversation she revealed that she shared your affliction, although hers affected her chest.

So that happened, and you became friends, and now you're sharing a condo together.

Yukari's in her bikini but she doesn't look like she'll be hitting the beach or the pool any time soon. She's totally invested in her game, earbuds linked to her phone (no doubt blasting music), glasses slowly sliding down the bridge of her nose, legs drawn up into a lotus position... Her jerking controller-work makes her generous chest jiggle and sway, barely confined by her (remarkably skimpy) bikini top.

You kick off your flip-flops and push them against the wall.

Yukari glances in your direction, sees that you've returned, and pauses her game. She removes her earbuds. "Yo."

"Hey," you reply. "Going to the beach?"

"Eh, at some point." You realize that traces of your smile remain, and so does Yukari. "You look unusually happy this morning. What's up?"

You shrug. "Eh. Met someone today. Wasn't a total introspective dweeb."

"Oh, yeah?" Yukari smiles. "What, like a lady?"

"Yeah, like a lady. Well... not like. Actually a lady."

"Nice." She glances at her game. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Uh, maybe later? We haven't hung out or anything, we just talked at the coffee shop. But she gave me her number, and --"

"Niiiice."

"I think she wants to hang out later."

"Nooooo," Yukari says, dripping with sarcasm. You ignore her.

"Should I text her?"

"Why would she give you her number if she didn't want you to text her?"

"I dunno, maybe it's fake? Or one of those anti-creeper services, or something?"

"Did you ask for her number?"

"No, she just gave it to me."

"Then dude, that means she wants to hang." She pushes her controller away. "You should text her."

"Now?"

"Later. You'll look **** if you immediately text her. 'Hello this is Ash, I'm the big dick nerd you met at the coffee shop would you like some fuck?'" Yes, Yukari knows about your prodigious member. Intimately.

"I wouldn't say that!"

"Pffffft."

"Anyway, I'll text her later." You yawn and stretch. "I'm gonna lie down for a little bit. I barely got any sleep."

Yukari stretches, too. "Want me to join you?"

You blush. "If you want."

"I want."