She stood on her tip-toes, peeking out of the peephole and she stalled. Demi stood on her porch. She frowned and pulled open the door.
He held up her wallet and Demi gave her a flat smile. She could tell he was a little annoyed by her carelessness. Certainly, he had better things to do than to double back to play delivery boy. “Thanks. I would have tore my house up looking for that in the morning,” she said.
She stepped back and motioned for him to come in. This time, he didn’t decline, but as soon as he crossed her threshold, he froze. The clutter felt like a brick to the face. The house smelled like incense and her. The scent that she had left behind in his car, her body scent, and whatever she used in her hair lingered in the air like she sprayed the same thing day after day. His mind felt overloaded. From the clothes on the couch to the scattered clippings from the pile of Essence magazines on the coffee table, the paint easel she had in the corner with paint and brushes scattered on the floor beneath it, and the crystals that lined her windowsills, Charlie’s place had no order. It wasn’t dirty but it was chaos. His shoulders instantly bricked, filling with tension. Demi didn’t do clutter. In his life,in his space, in his home. She was the definition of everything he avoided. He couldn’t even gather his thoughts as his eyes bounced around her place.
“You coming in or no?” she asked, eyes low. The lingering. The uncertainty was blowing her high and she was seconds from calling it a night. The song played from her bathroom as he deadpanned on her.
“It’s not life or death, Demi. Just being hospitable,” she said.
He stepped inside.
“I was about to shower, one sec,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable.” Bails had moved to her couch and Charlie shooed him off, before picking up the basket of clothes and moving them to the floor to make room for him to sit.
Bails walked right up to his feet, nestling against his thousand-dollar sneakers and Demi’s fucking skin crawled.
“He’s harmless. A big, spoiled, baby,” Charlie said. “I’ll be right back.”
Demi opted to stand. He for damn sure wasn’t sitting where the dog had been. His eyes followed her as she walked up the steps.
The minutes ticked away as he tried not to be invasive of her home, but every inch of her place told a story about her life. The lace panties hanging out the basket told him she was bold, sexy even, the type of woman who wasn’t afraid to wear red lingerie. The plants growing wildly on the window sill told him she was a nurturer. The bills piled up on the coffee table told him she was in no position to turn down the money he had offered him. She was gone all of fifteen minutes and he had learned a lot about her in her absence. As soon as he laid eyes on her, his mind forgot it all. She came back wearing sweats and a cropped t-shirt that was so small it lifted slightly, revealing the bottom of her breasts.
She pulled on her vape pen.
“You want to hit this?” she asked.
“I’m good,” Demi answered.
“You want a drink?” she asked. “I think I got Henny or something.”
“That’ll do,” he said. It wasn’t his favorite, but he would need it if he was going to stick around.
Why the fuck am I sticking around anyway?He thought.
She led him to the kitchen. To his relief, it was spotless. She handed him the bottle and grabbed two glasses. “Follow me.”
She led him upstairs and into her bedroom. More clothes. His eyes took in the ten, half-filled water bottles on her nightstand.
She pulled back the curtains and revealed a balcony door.
He was relieved that she opted to be outside. Her place made his chest tight, like he couldn’t quite breathe amongst her organized chaos. He watched her grab the source of her music and then she led her way outside.
Demi followed her out onto the balcony and somehow the mess outside felt like an oasis. She had plants everywhere, a boho rug covered the floor and a pallet bed rested in the corner with plush designer pillows on top of it. White Christmas lights were strung above their heads and around the railings and a bookshelf had been affixed to the brick of the building.
“It looks like a chapter from your mind out here, Bird,” he said.
“We sticking with this bird thing, huh?” she asked.
He snickered.
“Charlie,” he corrected as he leaned against her door, propping one foot behind him. She sat on the bed and reached for the bottle, pouring two glasses.
“Bird is fine,” she smiled. “And… yeah. My mind looks something like this on the inside.” She noticed he was still standing.
“Are you going to stand there all night?” she asked, snickering a bit. “You’re very serious, aren’t you?”
“Nah, man, I be cooling,” he said, opting for the chair facing her.
She passed him his drink.
