But her friends have far more life experience than the rest of us, so I opt to tag along for lunch.
Six brains are better than three.
Usually.
21
Ziggy
It’s stillhot as hell outside, but the dread I’m feeling as I walk up the steps to Holt’s house is far more oppressive than the weather.
Miranda ran interference and dominated the conversation with Mom at lunch, then convinced her to leave Jessica with me so I wouldn’t have to pick her up after work, and that Jessica and I had to be barricaded in my office all afternoon so the dog wouldn’t scare the men. I spent half the time texting Francesca, filling her in on what I’ve fucked up at home now.
She tells me the only answer is for me to come back to work on the ship now that I’m not sick anymore.
Which I can’t do, and she knows it.
And now my work week is over.
I’m exhausted.
Jessica is taking her sweet time getting from the car to the front door in the heat.
And the house I left happily this morning is now a place of doom.
I have to move out.
I have to find a new place to live and move out quickly.
And I don’t want to. I like this house. Jessica likes this house. Having Holt as a housemate is nice, and not just because I can’t help getting a little turned on every time I see him.
I like not being alone. I like having someone to talk to first thing in the morning. I like the way he smirks at me when I wake up on the couch and realize I’ve fallen asleep watching a TV show. I like the way he tells me something completely ridiculous happened in the show while I was sleeping, and I have that moment of believing him before I realize he’s teasing me.
I like that he says good night through my door when he passes by on his crutches to get to his room.
Fine.
Fine.
I like him.
I shouldn’t. He’s probably just being a nice guy to the pregnant lady who was only supposed to be in his house while he was gone.
His neighbors say he’s nice.
Miranda says he’s nice.
Brydie at the catering company said he was nice, even if she didn’t know what sport he plays.
He’s just a nice guy doing a nice thing and when he asked me to the movies, it was because he was being a nice guy who wanted to introduce me to someone who might be myfriend, but in actuality is probably one of Abby Nora’s friends because the universe is a dick sometimes.
He’s taking me in the same way he took Jessica in.
That’s it.
I finally shove through the door with my hair sticking to the back of my neck and sweat lining my bra. Jessica snorts, snuffles, and then sneezes toward the couch, where, sure enough, Holt is swinging himself up from a sprawled-out position to sitting like he’s been waiting for us.
His hair is a mess. It’s not hard to imagine him running his fingers through it all day. His lips are turned down in the barest pout. And his eyes—god, his eyes. They’re sad and worried and alert as he scans me from top to bottom like he’s making sure I’m in one piece.
