I'll never forget the way John looked at Marvin. Or the way there was no scar deep enough that would stop Marvin's smile from stretching for John when they spoke.
I'll also never forget how to change a doorknob.
I felt like a kid getting yelled at by their dad to just hold the flashlight still in this precise spot that will change with no warning, but you should just know.
I stop running at the bottom of the stairs and pull an earbud out in time to hear Bowen curse. He's kneeling in front of the door with various tools and a doorknob next to him on the porch.
I'm panting like a dog, and my feet are screaming from the blisters that aren't healed yet. But my head is in that pleasant, mushy place it goes to after a good run. The first stair gives away my presence, I guess, because when the wood creaks under my weight, Bowen glances back. Blue eyes scan me from head to toe in a quick sweep that has my stomach flipping. Just as quick as the look came, he turns back to the task without a word.
“What are you doing?” I ask just to fill the silence. It's obvious he's getting bested by a doorknob.
I know the feeling.
His face is flushed with annoyance. It's one of the only times Bowen has ever blushed, not from embarrassment but from being pissed off.
“My fingers are too big for this stupid fucking pin.”
I wipe my face with my arm and move up the rest of the steps. For the first time since I was woken up by him on the dock, I move into his personalbubble. The hairs on my leg feels like they stand on end when I stop next to him.
“Can I help?”
“No.”
He tries again to hold the small pin in his hand, then grasp it with his fingertips. It's an older model handle, not as straight forward as the newer ones. It's the kind of mechanism that keeps locksmiths in business.
“I've done this before. Let me help.”
“No,” he says again, then groans and drops his head between his shoulders. The unmistakable ding of something small hitting the wood.
Ever drop something small and you see it fall, but when you look it completely vanished? Yep. That's how Bowen ends up on his hands and knees, and I'm left looking anywhere but at the man.
I'm only a man, alright? A young, healthy male. I can only handle so much in a single day. Naked Bowen was enough. Bowen crawling around, the way those shorts hug his very well-defined ass?
It's stifling out here.
“Found it,” he says more to himself than me.
He fumbles it again, and I finally crouch down next to him and glare. “Stop being stubborn and give me the thing. I told you, I've done this before.”
He looks completely unconvinced but holds out his hand and drops the small metal piece in my open palm. I choose to ignore the way he did it, like he was purposely avoiding coming into direct contact with my skin.
He stands with a grunt, and I crawl over to where he was. The wood is warmer under my knees here. Is it pathetic that I get a small thrill from kneeling where he did?
Ya know what? Don't answer that.
I stick my tongue out in concentration and try to pretend that it's Marvin behind me hovering, and I'm trying to not fuck up.
“Marvin's fingers were huge. He never had a problem doing this.” I nearly drop it but push out a gust of air when it falls back into my hand.
“Who is Marvin?”
“A guy,” I answer absently, then grin when the pin slides in where it's supposed to. “Fuck, yes!” I jump up and hold my hand in the air. “Five it, dude.”
He does not, in fact, five it.
“A guy?”
“What?”
