I do that, waiting somewhat nervously to see what it is that he’s doing. The sound of scissors gliding through paper fill my ears, making me thinkwhat the fuck is happening?
As I’m about to ask him exactly that, he walks back into the living room, holding up what looks like two pieces of paper shaped like people.
“What…what is that?” I ask, perplexed and intrigued as I tilt my head to the side.
“Well, I don’t have puppets, but I figure this will work, right? It’s you and me,” he explains, and it’s then that I notice the leotard on one paper person, and what looks like a baseball uniform on the other.
My heart cracks in my chest at his thoughtfulness to help me relive a cherished memory, filling it with a feeling of awe that I’ve never felt before. I chuck it up to being sick and emotional. It’s nothing I need to be concerned about.
“Oh my God.” I chuckle as I shake my head in disbelief.
“Ahem.” He clears his throat, then his voice goes an octave higher. “I’m Teagan. I’m a badass gymnast and today you’re going to be one too.”
He makes my puppet walk toward his, who moves around in excitement. “My balance isn’t great, but I’ll do my best.”
I laugh at that and the memory of how we met.
“Yes, you will,” he imitates me. “Now let’s see a cartwheel.”
His puppet moves to do the motion, then falls on his back. “Was that good?”
My puppet jumps in horror. “What the fuck was that?”
“My best effort,” his character grumbles.
“Let’s see if you can try the splits instead,” my character demands.
Quentin makes his character spread his legs, one of his paper legs ripping in half. “I technically split something, right?”
It’s so stupid, but it makes me laugh. A full-on belly laugh that has tears pooling out of my eyes. He follows suit, laughing with me at the absurdity of his little story and performance.
“I needed that laugh, thank you. And for cooking, it was delicious,” I say appreciatively, feeling thankful that I let him come over.
“I’m glad it made you laugh, and I’d be happy to cook for you anytime,” he replies, and I know without a doubt he would. I finish eating as Quentin tells me about his day before he came over, and once I’m done, he takes my plate to the sink and cleans the dishes.
“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to let you leave.”
The words leave my mouth before I can think twice of them, and I internally slap myself in the forehead.
Why the hell would I say that?
I can’t get used to him taking care of me. It goes against the pact, which is as sacred as all things sacred in my mind.
“I mean, because it would be like having a butler, you know? A chef and a maid in one,” I try to joke, hoping to make my previous statement not sound exactly how it sounded.
“I can hire a butler for you if you’d like.”
“It was a joke, but I’ll remember that the next time my place looks like a mess and I need some help,” I play it off as I mentally scold myself. “I like my personal space, though. I don’t need someone here.”
While I could easily get used to having him around, doting on me and cooking those insanely delicious meals for me, I know it’s not a good idea.
If we already have rules to ensure we don’t touch each other, living together would definitely put us at risk for breaking the rules.
And that can’t happen.
Chapter 19
Quentin
