“More?” he asks. I nod as he feeds me pieces of fruit. I have no idea why this is so sexual. He gives me small gaps where I suspect he’s feeding himself too. “All finished,” he declares. My eyes fly open and land on the empty plate between us. “You need to get out of your head. Food should be an enjoyable experience, not just a necessity for existence.”
“I can hardly go around eating with a blindfold every day or have hot half-naked men wait on me hand and foot.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one, I lack the coordination to feed myself without sight.”
“No, why can’t I help you?”
I swallow the knot of unease that tightens my throat. “Because I could learn to depend on that, and then how will I leave?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t think about leaving. That would solve all your problems.”
“But it would inevitably bring those problems to your grandmother’s door, and that is unacceptable.” He tilts his head as I snatch the book from the lounger and stand. “I changed my mind. I think I’ll play a video game now.”
“I’ll join you,” he says, making my shoulders stiffen. It’s not like I can say no—it’s his home, not mine.
“Fine, but I hope you don’t scare easily,” I mutter as I enter the pool house. After a quick shower, I dress in a pair of sleep shorts and a baggy Guns N’ Roses band shirt I got at a thrift shop. I have a small collection of band tees going.
When I stroll into the sitting room, Fox has closed the curtains and laid out a blanket on the L-shaped sofa, which he is taking up half of. He nods at the video controller on the blanket.
“Is there a particular game you like? I got you a selection of sodas too.” My gaze falls on the coffee table in front of the sofa, finding a choice of four different types as well as some snacks.
I relax back on the sofa just as Duke leaps up on the end and nudges me toward the center, closer to Fox. It’s my usual spot, so he’s just being a creature of habit. A large, bossy, stubborn creature of habit. Fox smirks at Duke.
“He’s really protective of you.”
“He’s a big softie that likes me because I feed him. He likes me less when I force exercise on him.”
“Honestly, if you’ve managed to get him out even once, you are beating me. He does enjoy a trip into town though, because of the attention he gets.” I scratch Duke between his ears and he flops his head down, hogging the blanket. “I can get you another one,” Fox says, moving to stand.
My hand snaps out around his wrist. “No, I’m good. I tend to run a little hot.”
“Really?”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not, I’m just being a good housemate knowing what temperature you prefer.” I roll my eyes as I release him and turn on the TV. I navigate to a popular game that features battling the supernatural and scroll to my saved character. “Fan of scary shit, huh?” Fox observes.
“Spooky, not gore. Not human. But yes, scary games, movies, but not books.”
“Why?”
I dart a glance at him. “I don’t believe in ghosts or creepy weird stuff. So I can enjoy those, comfortably knowing they aren’t reality. Gore, however, human real world stuff—that is too real, too close to home. The demon under my bed is fine—the man wearing a charming smile, pretending he’s here to battle that demon—he’s the one to be afraid of.”
His gaze takes in too much. It picks apart my words, assesses them for genuineness, and continues to inform the picture he’s building of me. I’m broken into too many pieces—some of them will never again be part of my psyche. That’s why I’m not good company for anyone.
“Do you want to join in?” I ask, praying he says no. But I feel compelled to ask, since it’s his house.
“No, I’m happy to observe.”
I side-eye him. “There’s a storyline to the game, but it’s more enjoyable to sit back and enjoy the ride.” He rolls his eyes as the game loads, and the world around me shrinks away so I’m immersed in the experience. I jump as a zombie attacks me from the left. I remove his head using my machete.
“I’m confused. You said no gore,” Fox mutters as I stab a vampire.
“Mmm. But it’s so cheesy, it’s good.”
“Makes no sense.”
