She sets the can on one of the shelves, mumbles something under her breath, and then pulls it back out and studies it.
I lower the music and clear my throat. Her eyes shift in my direction.
“You okay?” I chuckle.
“Oh, um, yeah. Why?”
“Whatcha doing?”
“Well, I was bored, and so I started organizing the pantry, and at first I thought I should do it alphabetically, but then I thought maybe color-coded made more sense, but now I’m wondering if it should be by category. What do you think?”
“I think you need to step away from the canned goods,” I say, walking towards her and grabbing the corn. Our hands brush against each other, causing her eyes to shift upward and her mouth to part slightly. There’s a weird moment where the air almost cracks around us, and then she takes a step back, giggling nervously.
“You sure you’re okay?” I ask, setting the can down on a pantry shelf.
“Oh, yeah. Definitely good. Cool as a cucumber. Why?”
“Because you appear to be stress-organizing the pantry.” My eyes survey the kitchen counters again, and I stop a laugh from breaking free.
“Oh, no. I guess the change of plans just kinda threw me, and I wasn’t sure what to do, so I decided to be productive.”
“The change of plans threw you?” I lean against the counter top, crossing my arms.
“Well, no, that's not what I meant. I just meant that I wasn’t sure what to do since our plans changed.”
“I didn’t know roomie nights meant that much to you.” I smirk.
“They don’t…I mean, they’re fun, but I’m not stressed about it or anything. I was just bored.”
“If you say so.” I lift one of my eyebrows, and her brow furrows. “Did you have a good day?”
“It was fine,” she says, moving past me and back into theliving room. I follow her and watch as she walks across the room and picks a paperback book off the ground.
“How’d that end up over there?” I ask.
“Oh, um, Dolly must’ve carried it in here.”
“Did Dolly become a large dog while I was at dinner?” I chuckle, leaning up against the wall.
Her cheeks blush, and my heart jumps in my chest at the thought that maybe roomie nights do mean more to her than I thought they did.
She sits down on the couch and opens the book. Wrinkles form across her forehead, and she scrunches her nose.
Man, she’s cute when she’s flustered.
After a minute, she puts the book down and looks over at me.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“No reason. So, what else did you do tonight?”
Her eyes shift to her open bedroom door and then back to me.
“Just read, watched a little TV, and then tried to organize the pantry.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes,” she says, panicked. “Why would you think I did anything else?”
