“What about the half a liquor store you had me haul up here?”
“Why, that’s for you two! Two young, able bodied, hardworking kids should be able to unwind at the end of a long day, right? Flint told me how hard you were working on your book today! You should take a day off sometime, sweetie. I bet it would help those creative juices flow.” She looks over as Flint goes back into thebathroom, I assume to collect his new wardrobe. “Of course, that man could probably get plenty of other juices flowing without much trouble.” She nudges me in the ribs with her elbow.
“For fucks sake!” I hiss. “He could hear you! You’re embarrassing him, saying shit like that!”
“Nonsense. He knows I mean nothing by it and if Flint is anything, he is self aware. That man knows he’s attractive, but he’s not an asshole about it.”
I pour myself a glass of wine and debate whether I should pour one for Flint. Maybe he’d prefer the beer Betsy brought? I’ll just wait and ask him.
“While he doesn’t appear to be an asshole, you can’t just say things like that to someone you barely know.”
“Oh, I think I know him well enough,” she says, waving off my comment. “Besides, you’re the one living with him.”
I don’t have anything to say to that, so I fill my mouth with wine.
She’s baiting me. I know it.
“What do you mean you know him well enough?”
That seems to give her pause. “I just mean I am an excellent judge of character and I know him better than you might think. He has a beautiful aura.”
She kisses my cheek and calls out her farewell to Flint, who gives a muffled response through the bathroom door.
With Betsy gone and the blessed silence once again filling the apartment, I glance around, realizing I haven’t seen Calida and have no earthly idea where she is. I spot her laying on the bed. She’s somehow covered herself in my comforter, until only the tip of her nose peeks out. It sounds like she’s snoring. Apparently she doesn’t findfashion shows as riveting as Betsy and I do — at least when it’s being put on by the hottest man I’ve ever seen.
A moment later, Flint comes out from the bathroom, looking sheepish. Reading the expression on his face, I ask “Did you just hide in the bathroom until she left?”
“Maybe.” He smiles fully. “Do you blame me?”
I take a slow sip of wine as I consider him. “Not really, no. She can be a lot sometimes. No, scratch that. She’s a lot all of the time, but every once in a while she really amps it up. But, thank you for being a good sport. She’s the only family I have and I love her. As a reward — do you want wine or beer?”
“I’d love a beer, after all of that. It was sweet of her to think of getting me something to wear. I hadn’t given it a thought and it would have quickly become a problem.”
Handing him his beer, I smile. “She’s the absolute best. She can be terrifying and dizzying, a lot like a tornado, but I sort of want to be her when I grow up.”
Our fingers brush as he takes the beer. I swear, a line of heat shoots up my arm. Have I always been this easy?
“You mean you aren’t grown up?” he teases.
I laugh. “No. I still spend most of my days hoping an adultier adult will come along and look out for me.”
Flint studies my face. Gods, those eyes. I feel like I could fall into them. Weird. Usually making eye contact with anyone for more than a couple of seconds is grossly uncomfortable for me. The random books I’ve read all indicate that it's a symptom of my ADHD, but with Flint, I feel like I could look into his eyes for hours. There’s a familiarity there that I can’t pinpoint but I know, without question, that I’m safe with this man.
“Isn’t that what Betsy just did?”
“Hmmmm?” Shit. I’ve been staring.
“Isn’t that what Betsy just did? Show up and look out? Playing the fairy godmother?”
“Yes. Yes, she did.”
After some shuffling and mild bickering, I’ve got Flint’s new clothing in the wash – something he insisted I teach him how to do – and at least a portion of the bedroom closet open for his clothes. Which, of course, meant that I needed to clean up at least part of the floordrobe, as there wasn’t really any clothing actuallyhangingin the closet. Either way, it’s done and for the duration of his stay, he’ll have somewhere to keep his few belongings. He was happy to talk to me while I completed this chore, after I told him that’s how he could help.
“How long did you plan to stay?” I ask, as I reach for another tee to hang. I am supposed to be a fully grown woman — why do I only own t-shirts?
“I didn’t have an actual plan.”
“That seems very un-soldier-like of you.”
