Evan was still asleepwhen I’d woken the next morning. After his outburst last night over my reorganizing the kitchen, I was happy he was still asleep. I tip-toed into the kitchen, wearing my shorts and tank top that he’d deemed inappropriate for the shared areas of the condo, determined to make myself a cup of coffee so I could have it in the bathroom while I got ready for work.
I placed the heating pad back into the drawer and the ice pack into the freezer from where he’d left them on the counter and then dumped some coffee grounds into the new coffeemaker Evan had bought a couple of weeks ago and was just about to hit the power button when I heard something behind me.
“What are you doing?” he grumbled, his voice still gravely from sleeping.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Evan standing there, his hair still wet from his shower, dripping down onto his bare shoulders. “Where is my heating pad?”
“Back where it belongs, and I’m making coffee, obviously.”
“That’s…” He came around the island, closing in on me in three strides, crowding me as he tore the bag from my hands. “You can’t use this. I had those beans imported from?—”
“I know, from a small coffee roastery in Vancouver. I saw the label, Evan, but all the other coffee is gone. I will buy you more.”
He rolled his eyes, taking a step back. “It’s not about…there is a system. The water temperature has to be exact, and the grounds need to be measured, not just dumped in.”
“Noted. You didn’t seem to be this controlling about coffee before.”
“I’m not controlling with coffee. I’m particular.”
“No, you are impossible,” I said, poking my finger into the center of his bare chest.
The coffeemaker beeped as we stared at one another, neither one of us backing down.
“You are in my space.”
“Here we go again,” I said under my breath. “Your entire apartment is your space. Should I just not exist?” I said, getting into his face.
“That would be a start…” Evan muttered as he stepped back and gazed at me with a defeated expression. “Just…ask me next time.”
“It’s just coffee, Evan.”
He looked at me, his eyes skimming my body. “Yep, it’s just coffee,” he said, walking away, then stopping. “Oh, and about the outfit…”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know. It’s not appropriate, although the same can be said about yourself. Put on a shirt next time,” I called over my shoulder.
The warbetween us raged on into Thursday night when I came out of my bedroom wrapped in my comforter. I’d been freezing most of the day at the rink, which wasn’t abnormal, but a cold front had come through, and no matter what I’d done, I couldn’t get warm. Now I felt as if I were coming down with a cold, which with our upcoming schedule I really couldn’t afford. I made my way into the living room and tapped the thermostat, waiting for the display to light up.
“What are you doing?” Evan barked from behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to see him sitting in the chair.
“It’s fifty degrees in here!” I yelled, nodding toward the thermostat. “It’s like being in the rink. I thought I could see my breath.”
Evan went back to his tablet, no doubt going over plays, and shrugged. “Get used to it. I run hot.”
“You run psychotic. It’s winter. I’m changing it to seventy,” I said, jabbing at the buttons.
“Bianca, touch that thermostat and we are going to have a real problem.”
I spun around and looked at Evan, who sat in the chair in a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, watching me.
“I think we already have a problem. I’m freezing and it’s not even the heart of winter yet.”
“Don’t worry, once it gets really cold, I raise it a couple of degrees. I guess you’re going to have to wear more clothes.”
“I am wearing all of my warm clothes. Some of us don’t have internal furnaces fueled by stubbornness.”
I turned back to the thermostat, ready to punch more buttons, when I felt Evan standing beside me. When I glanced at him, he placed his hand under my chin, lifting my head so I could look him in the eyes.
