I point my finger at him. “Don’t get cocky on me now.”
His tongue swipes to his inner cheek. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“I only see my family when I want. I’m not much for planning personal stuff. Work, for sure. I mean, I love planning, but the shoots have to be spontaneous in creativity. I’m the same when it comes to seeing family. I like to be spontaneous and don’t plan visits until the last minute. No point in pretending that we’re all close if we aren’t. I guess you wouldn’t understand that.” Geez, why the hell am I being so open with him?
“I can’t relate, but I understand, I guess. You’re more a wildflower type. You seem relaxed with life except when it’s me.”
I throw him a pointed look. “And you seem structured in life except when it comes to me. Suddenly, you’re unpredictable.”
“Unpredictable… huh.” His lips quirk out. “I’ve never looked at it that way. In work, I can throw in surprises with clauses, but ultimately, the opposing side knows that I will be cutthroat and take no bullshit. And when it comes to other things…” He adjusts his neck. “It can’t be unexpected that I’m someone who likes control.”
I gently shake my head, amused. “Great self-reflection there. All you have to do is admit that you are a stressful person and I’ll give you full credit.”
“I’m not stressed,” he rebuffs.
I raise my fingers in measurement. “A little stressed… a little cranky too.”
He looks unimpressed but then a droll smile appears.
We both nosh on a few bites of pizza in silence, and our eyes catch a few times, which is slightly unnerving because it isn’t edged.
“You can’t keep reminding me of my life choices. You have work, friends, hobbies. Am I missing anything on that list?”
“Just like you, I’m going through the wheels of motion of daily life. There is nothing wrong with life being content and simple.”
Except, I don’t have the type of excitement that makes life less boring. Something is missing that I haven’t figured out yet. We’re supposed to be happy if work is fun, friends are great, and you have hobbies to enjoy. But it feels too easy.
Anyhow. “Truthfully, you’re doing me a favor. Leftover pizza in this house turns into breakfast.”
Keats smiles gently. “Here I was thinking you wanted my company.”
I roll my eyes and think of something funny. “I shouldn’t admit this but sometimes I feel like this place is haunted.” He doesn’t burst out laughing and seems intent on further explanation. “I can’t explain it. It’s silly, and I don’t believe that stuff. But sometimes when I return home, I swear all of the photo frames have been unstraightened or a pillow from the sofa is on the ground.”
“Are you sure you don’t have a stalker?”
“Nah. I’m too boring for someone to be interested.”
“You must go through a lot of salt in this place then. Or do you prefer burning sage? Actually, I bet you haven’t yet stocked up on an item made of iron. A horseshoe, perhaps?”
My face squinches. “You’re familiar with scaring off spirits?” He doesn’t answer, and I sputter a laugh. “Really? No…” It drags out as my face lights up because this is unexpected.
“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” he asks, and I shake my head. “In college, some of my roommates were convinced there was a spirit in the place, and we went through everything in the book. Truthfully, after that little phase, the lights no longer flickered at strange moments. Or someone just replaced the lightbulb, I’m not sure. But actually, I would like to think that the presence of someone ghostly was no longer near.”
My smile is from ear to ear, as he just threw a wild card at me of the things I never expected him to be interested in. “It could be my great-auntie, but I feel it’s a different type of breeze.”
“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. When my sister had Christmas at her house, the air was heavy, and I could have sworn it was because her husband who passed was there. How could he not be, you know? Or at least that’s what I told her.”
Observing him, he is no longer joking. There is a shade of vulnerability, and his facial expression is stoic. To be honest, I’m surprised that he is sharing this with me.
“I can’t even imagine how hard it must have been.”
He stares at the floor for a second before his eyes strike up and a bit of pep returns. “You should go to Hollows, it’s not far from here. There is a candle shop there, and the woman who runs it knows her stuff. She has all of these herbs and oils.”
“You’re a regular?”
“Nah. But it is a nice little town. Almost thought of moving there until Oliver convinced me otherwise.”
“Lucky us,” I deadpan. I drop the crust onto the empty lid of the box.
