Looking at the cleats and then at her, I beamed at her. “Thanks.”
“Don’tthankme, just pick up after yourself!” she snapped as she grabbed the door handle and slammed the door closed. I heard her door slam moments later, and with a grin, I retrieved my cleats from the floor. I knew she would know where they were.
Later, I was half-lying across the sofa, on my side with my hand propping my head up as I watched the TV, my legs stretched out to the side with one raised where my other arm rested. As I watched the closing minutes of Thursday Night Football, I heard her come into the room, her face averted so she didn’t have to look at me. Looking over at her, I saw she was wearing the same T-shirt, but she now had a pair of cotton shorts on. Her long red hair was gathered at the nape of her neck in a loose ponytail. She was still wearing the headphones, her lips mouthing the words as she sang along to whatever she was listening to. She seemed to sing gospel choir music a lot, butfrom the way her hips were moving, I didn’t think it was suitable Sunday church music she was rocking out to.
As she closed the fridge door, she caught me looking at her, and I enjoyed the flush on her cheeks. Pulling one of her earbuds out, she raised the can of Coke in her hand. “Want one?”
“Sure,” I replied easily as she reopened the fridge.
“I’ve got Diet Coke and Sprite. Which one?”
I told her Sprite, and then she crossed the room to hand it to me.
“Did you, um, want a glass?”
Smiling, I shook my head, my hair falling into my eyes. “Nah, this is good.” Opening the can, I took a long drink as I turned my attention back to the TV.
“Can I sit?”
Looking at her in surprise, I gestured to the sofa. “It’s your apartment, Red. You don’t need my permission.”
With a snort, she sat on the edge of the sofa, drawing one leg to her chest as she watched the last few minutes with me. “I hate football.”
“You’re going to need to leave,” I retorted with a small laugh. I saw her lips twitch, but she said nothing else. When the game was over, I lowered the volume slightly, and she looked over at me, her cheek resting on her knee. “What?” I asked her, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“You need to wear a shirt when you’re here.”
I had not been expecting that, and I looked down at my chest quickly before looking back up. “Why?”
“Because I don’t need to see all,” she waved her hand up and down at my torso, “that.”
“Why?”
“Ash, can you just wear a shirt?”
“I’m tempting you?”
Her eyes widened in surprise before she closed them in resignation. “No, you egotistical jerk, I just don’t want your sweaty body all over my new sofa.”
Laughing out loud, I propped myself up more as I finished my Sprite. “I don’t usually wear a shirt when I’m home.”
“You’re not home.” Her voice was soft but clear.
“No, I’m not, but I’m stuck here for however long I need to be, so for all intents and purposes, I’m home for now.”
“Do you resent it?” When she saw my questioning look over at her, she expanded. “Having to be here?”
“It’s not easy,” I admitted, sitting up properly. “My room has all my things, and I keep forgetting to take stuff that I need here.”
“Okay, inconvenience of beingphysicallymoved, do you resent itpersonallythat you have to be here?”
“Nah, I know you need me.”
“I don’t need you.” Her mouth tightened in displeasure.
Nodding, I thought about it. “Did Quinn tell you everything?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “I think so.”
