I need to get out of this car, before I do something stupid. Like kissing her.
The drive from her apartment to here has been forty minutes of torture. Controlling myself not to touch her.
She sat with her arms wrapped around herself, a tired expression on her face, trying not to show how scared she'd been, managing it barely well enough that nobody else would have noticed. I noticed. I've been noticing everything about hersince I walked into that police station and found her standing against the wall in dirty clothes.
I get out and come around to her side. She's already reaching for the handle when I open it from the outside and she looks up at me. I offer my hand. She takes it.
Her fingers are cold.
I hold on half a second longer than I need to, then let go.
Inside I find the lights still on, Miles Davis still playing… and the cat asleep on the sofa. I left in a hurry. Didn't think to turn anything off. I just needed to get to her.
Sienna has stopped in the corridor where it opens into the kitchen and living room. Arms still crossed, hugging herself.
"Do you want to eat first or shower?" I ask.
She flinches. Drops her eyes to herself, noticing the dried dirt on her forearms, the state of her shoes. I see the misunderstanding happen in real time.
I cross the room to her.
My hand goes to her hair picking the strand that's come loose and tuck it back. My fingers catch something small and dry. I work it free and hold it up between us.
A leaf. She looks at it for a second. Then she laughs. Just once, startled and genuine and something loosens in the room.
"I think you might need a long nice hot shower to relax, don't you?" I suggest.
She nods. Quiet.
I take her hand and lead her down the corridor.
My intention at the start is to take her to the spare room. Sensible choice. Private bathroom, a place all to her own. I know this clearly at the beginning of the corridor. Halfway down I pass the spare room without slowing and take her to mine instead.
I open the bathroom door and turn on the light. "Fresh towels in that cabinet. I'll leave some clothes on the bed."
She's already looking past me at the shower and I add, "Take as long as you need."
I stand there awkwardly, looking at her in my space, until I force myself to turn around and leave before I make a fool of myself.
When I’m back in the kitchen the first thing I do is reach into my pants and adjust myself. I’m hard just knowing that she is naked in my bathroom. I shake my head trying to dislodge these thoughts. I need something else to focus on.
I open the fridge.
Still nothing. I close it. Ordering in it is.
I pick up my phone and dial the number of the pizzeria down the block that has staved my hunger many times this late at night.
I don’t really know what Sienna likes, so I’m indecisive but the woman at the pizza place is patient with me. We work through a pizza, two toppings, and another vegetarian option just in case.
Something brushes my ankle. The cat is figure-eighting around my legs, meowing with a conviction that suggests he hasn't eaten in several days, which I know for a fact is not true.
"Can your kitchen do anything for a cat? Prosciutto maybe, or something with cheese. I know he likes brie". There is a pause and then she says she'll check. I thank her and hang up.
The cat hops onto the kitchen stool and settles there with the composure of a king surveying his domain.
"Thirty minutes," I tell him. "Go sit somewhere else."
He blinks. Stays on the stool.
