“What could I possibly have done to deserve this,” I wonder aloud, staring at the door my buffer just left through. “What perilous deeds have I committed that this is my fate?”
“I’ve been asking myself the exact same questions,” Fox grouches, then he sighs, remembering the scant amount of manners he possesses. “Let me give you a tour.”
I agree graciously. The pout is just a permanent fixture of my face now, thank you very much.
“This area is self-explanatory,” he says, gesturing to the wide open space that is his living room, dining room, and kitchen. The ceilings reach high, at least fifteen feet, but the width of the room isn’t crazy. Maybe half the width of the building. I assume the other half is taken up by bedrooms.
My assumptions are confirmed when he takes me to a hallway hidden behind a tall bookcase. “This is the bathroom,” he offers, pushing open a green door to reveal what is most definitely a bathroom, complete with a tiger bath mat that isn’t identical to one I have at home, but is pretty close. Where mine is orange, this one is pink. It pains me to admit that the pink one is cuter. I contemplate my stance on theft as I survey the rest of the room.
Colorful tiles cover the walls from floor to ceiling, where a single window sits well into the wall. Plants line the sill, their vines tumbling down to wrap around towel hooks and mirror corners. His toothbrush rests in a ceramic holder that mimics an eaten-up apple with worm holes for toothbrush handles to rest in.
My eyebrows rise at the whimsical nature of it all while cogs turn in my brain, attempting to reconcile Fox’s decorating with the buzzkill himself.
The only thing not surprising in this bathroom is the assortment of soaps and shampoos sitting on shower shelves. Fox smells good, always, but it’s not always the same smell. The underlyinghimis there, but I often make a game of guessing whichhimhe will be. Vanilla? Cedar? Citrus? Or my favorite—mystery scent, which I can now see is cactus fruit. Or, possibly, dragonfruit.
“You’ll sleep over here,” he says, pulling me away from my perusal of his bath items and down the hall. We stop in front of another green door, pausing as he gestures to the purple one beside it. “That’s my room. I’ll be right there if you need anything.”
Sure. Yes. Him. Over there. On the other side of the wall.
How perfect.
I will my stomach to settle. He’s amassive freaking jerk, I remind it.
It doesn’t listen, of course. Stupid, stupid thing.
We enter his guest room, where I’ll be sleeping.
“Oh,” I say, absolutely startled.
He hums. “Not everyone likes my tastes, so I made sure it was neutral in here.”
“That’s… thoughtful.” And also dumb. His decorating tastes are immaculate. Even here, where he’s clearly confined himself to a color palette of pale greens and beige, the room still lends itself to warmth and whimsy. A lamp in the shape of a turtle shines from the bedside table, and the bed itself is covered in a huge, beautiful patchwork quilt.
I slip my shoes off before daring to step on the soft sage rug peeking out from under the bed, then press my hand into the quilt.
“I hope it’s satisfactory for you,” Fox says, throwing a hand out. “That’s the closet. There are extra sheets, blankets, and pillows in there. I keep the apartment pretty cold at night, so feel free to grab whatever you need. There was a heated blanket in there last time I checked, but Almond’s threatened to steal it more than once, so I can’t guarantee it’s still there.”
It is absolutely not in that closet. It is, instead, nestled between Almond’s sheets and comforter on her bed at home, exactly where it’s been since she made away with it three months ago under… light… encouragement from me. Encouragement it sounds like I might regret when I’m freezing my toes off later tonight.
Alas, the reapings of pettiness are often suffering.
Hoping the blankets that remain will be enough, I turn my mind to more interesting things. “What’s an evil overlord’s bedroom look like?” I wonder. “When the evil overlord’s house is all colorful whimsical charm?”
My question comes flippantly, an offhand curiosity I don’t expect to be assuaged. Fox’s response, however, isriveting.
The manblushes.
My eyes widen with glee, and I stride toward him to poke at his burning cheeks. I cackle. “Oh my gosh!”
He smacks my hand away, taking a large step back when I reach for him again. “Stop that,” he hisses. “I’m not blushing.”
“You so totally are.” I laugh. “This is incredible. It almost makes my house disaster worth it.” I snort. “You’re blushing, and it goes all the way to yourears!” Delight has me bouncing on my feet as I herd him out of the room and to the left—toward the purple door he indicated as his. “You said I could go in if I needed anything, right? Well, I desperately need something right now, Fox.”
Impossibly, his blush deepens. His eyes avoid mine as he stutters, “Wh-what?”
“Oh, this isbeautiful.” I grin. “What’s in there that’s got you squirming, hmm?”
“Nothingin therehas me squirming,” he grumbles as his back hits his door, hands falling flat against the stained wood. “And it’s none of your business what my private bedroom looks like. Unless it’s anemergency, stay out.”
