I got up and went to the bedroom, dragging my shirt over my head. Flinging it across the room in a mixture of annoyance and frustration towards my soppy daydream. My fingers fumbled with the waistband of my joggers, stripping them off, not in a rush, my mind still back on the awkward moment in the living room. On the look in her eyes. The way she couldn’t meet my gaze after asking what I was laughing at. Slipping off my boxers, I turned to the dresser to grab a fresh pair when the door flew open without warning, and there she was, eyes wide like a deer in head lights, face flaming.
“Fuck! Sorry.” The door slammed shut so fast it made the wall shake, and I froze mid-motion, stood there stark fucking naked. Then came the sound of her sliding to the floor on the other side, crouched in place as if she’d just detonated her own dignity.
I ran a hand down my face and sighed. Of course that just happened. Perfect.
After clothing myself, I headed for the door. Her shadow still slumped at the bottom. I opened it slowly, peering down at her, still curled like some cartoon character hiding from the world. I tried not to laugh. Honest, I did.
“Erm… what are you doing?”
She looked up, cheeks flushed, eyes throwing daggers, “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Deadpan and defensive. In anadorable way, she probably didn’t want to be. That instinctual urge to deflect the awkwardness with a joke rose like muscle memory.
“If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked,” I said, as casual as I could manage, leaning against the door frame and crossing my arms. “Could’ve made popcorn. Set the mood.”
Her mouth dropped open in outrage, “You’re unbelievable.” Quickly rising to her feet as she stormed down the hallway.
My voice raised to her, “And you didn’t even tip me,” I added with a smirk.
A loud, audible groan came from the living room, followed by something that sounded suspiciously like, “I hate you.” Holding more laughter in it than venom.
Awkwardness defeated, I guess.
CHAPTER 23
The days that followed were weirdly… soft. Not soft in a romantic movie kind of way. We didn’t sit across from each other in candlelight or hold hands in the rain or any of that nonsense. It was more like… existing next to each other without needing a reason. Quiet company. Shared space. It felt unsteady but weirdly safe. Like a wolf and a feral cat deciding not to eat each other, but instead lying in the same sunbeam.
Misfit stuck around mostly, ignoring the constant phone calls from Seffy asking her to come home. When she did eventually answer, Misfit would mimic a talking hand motion while rolling her eyes. I’d bite my bottom lip, holding back laughter, trying not to distract and throwing the occasional cushion in her direction for good measure.
What? I said I tried. Didn’t say I didn’t falter on it. We ended up back on that rooftop a couple of days later. Don’t ask me how, or even why we would scale that fucking building for a second time. My legs were killing, but the fresh bottle of vodka in her hand made it bearable. Misfit sporting my hoodie again, which I pretended not to notice, but I couldn’t help recalling her scent now stained into the fabric whenever I managed to get it back off her.
“Remind me again why we’re back up here?” The howling wind whipping past me, my shoulders hunching to the chill. “It’s fucking freezing. What’s wrong with a bar? Or drinking at home?”
She glanced back at me, giving a dry chuckle, holding out the bottle towards me. “It’s a good view.”
I scoffed, taking a deep swig of the vodka, hoping it would offer some warmth in my chest. “You don’t give a fuck about the view.” My back slid down the wall as I kept my knees close to me. A deep orange hue tinted the skyline as the sun began to set. She slumped beside me, face void of emotion as she drifted off deep within her thoughts. I could practically see the cogs turning as her lip twitched in some invisible battle she was having within herself.
“Something's wrong.”
She quickly turned, frowning at me, as if I’d just snapped her back from the brink.
“What?”
“You.” I studied her features closer, “You haven’t called me a prick or anything close once today.” Her gaze lingered a moment before falling to the city below.
“Just don’t feel very well.” Did she honestly think I’d believe that shit excuse? We had just scaled this bloody building, bottle in hand, for her to fob me off with a “I don’t feel well”. Nice try cupcake.
“Liar.”
If she didn’t want to tell me, then fine. Seemed to be how we did things anyway. I shifted, pulling out a cigarette, cupping the flame with my hand as the smoke filled my lungs—the rush of something resembling comfort washing over me.
I offered her my lifeline, holding the cigarette between us. My eyes fell on her as she almost weighed up the consequences of taking it.
Her surprisingly warm fingers brushed mine for a second, and my chest did this stupid skip. Really need to get a handle on that. Her body shifted with intent to face me; her eyes locked onto mine. Her jaw dropped for a split second as ifwords were just about to come spilling from her lips, rerunning a practised script in her mind before deciding otherwise. She looked annoyed with herself, looking away from me as my brows furrowed in confusion.
Her voice was barely a whisper, muttering to herself now, “Shut up.”
“Are you losing it?” My laughter disguising my genuine concern. I’d caught her before, muttering to herself. I just figured I’d pissed her off and she was chanting some witchy curse, hoping I’d trip over my own foot and break my neck or something.
Her signature cold ass glare shot my way, “Fuck you,” her fingers jabbing into my upper arm.
