“Agree to disagree,” he counters.“You need somewhere to live; I need a roommate.It’s win-win.”
“It’s a recipe for disaster.”But I can’t deny that I want to take him up on the offer.
“Scared you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”
Yes, but like hell am I telling him that.“You’re ridiculous.”
He holds his hands up.“All right, all right, I won’t push.”
The silence grows limbs, stumbling awkwardly, like a newborn calf.Kissing him seemed like a good idea at the time, but maybe I read the signs wrong.I need to clear my head, and I can’t do that with him here.
I’ve already made one bad decision; best not make it two.
“I’ll think about it.”It’s a lie.I’ve already made my mind up.
Lucky slips on his jacket and reties his hair.“I hope you do.”
He looks around for a few seconds, delaying the inevitable.I wonder if this will be the last time I see him.Kind eyes, tight jeans, generous heart.I hope it isn’t; it’s nice to have a friend in this city, and Lucky is a rare one.
“Hand me your phone,” he says, stepping close enough to trip my heart up.
I do it without thinking, watching as he enters his phone number.The power to see him again will be within my control, if I want it.
But what do I want?
I know what I need.It’s a rather long list at the moment, and I don’t have much time to solve it.Lucky is offering me a piece of that puzzle, but my feelings for him will make it complicated.
If I can’t find a solution, I’m going to have to consider the one thing I’ve never wanted to do—give up.
I stare at the door long after he leaves.It’s not too late.
I can still change my mind.
* * *
Make Your Choice:
I changed my mind; I want to move in(go to 34)
it’s time to leave(go to 19)
go back(go to 18)
It’s a strange little place, candles and incense so strong that my lungs seize as we enter, but something is calling to me, leading me deeper inside.
The shopkeeper is a short older woman with faded pink hair.It’s put up in pigtails, and it sways as she moves.Her dark eyes are framed with equally dark glasses, but she wears no other jewelry, except for a bright orange pin with the name Moira.
She says nothing as we enter.
Inside, the store is tiny, as if someone took a shoebox and stood it on its short end.The ceilings reach high above us while the walls seem to close in, stuffed from floor to high beams with crystals and artifacts of every size.
Shelves spill over with tiny bottles, carrying ingredients likeyeti fur (freely shed)andcrushed phoenix egg (hatched).Hanging from every conceivable point are wind chimes that gently whistle and sing despite the stillness.
How odd.
“Wow, this is great.”Lucky is already bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, which is an interesting look for a guy who’s six-two and covered in tattoos.
It’s hard not to absorb his enthusiasm—something I suspect I’m going to have to get used to if we’re going to be friends.
