Two days later …
“What?” asked Jimmy in a terse voice, never taking his eyes off the TV. On screen, a hockey game raged on, the someones against the someone elses. No, I honestly didn’t care enough to figure out who was playing.
We’d been back in Portland for two days and had mostly returned to our usual routine with only one or two minor behavioral differences.
“Huh?” I asked, finger toying over the screen of my e-reader.
“You keep looking at me weird.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do.” He bristled, giving me impatient side eyes. “You been doing it all day.”
“I have not. You’re imagining things.”
He wasn’t imagining things. Ever since that day in Coeur d’Alene, things had been different. I’d been different. I couldn’t seem to see, hear, or be near him without reacting in ways I sincerely wished I did not. Contrary to my hopes, the feelings had not dissipated. Instead, they seemed to have settled in for the duration, sinking further and further into my heart and mind. All of those glimpses into his psyche and his troubled past had changed things irrevocably. Both in how I looked at him, and how often. The truth was, this horrible idiotic crush, or whatever the hell it was, probably showed on my face every time I turned his way. It certainly felt like it did.
“I’m not gonna freak out again or anything, Lena,” he said. “Relax.”
A pause. “No, I know. I’m not worried about that.”
“So stop looking at me already,” he grouched.
“I’m not!” I protested, sneaking a look.
He slumped further down in the corner of the couch, a frown embedded into his handsome face. Jeans and a black Henley were Jimmy’s casual home attire. I highly doubted a male model could have worn them as well. The man just had innate style and show. With my hair messily tied up on top of my head and glasses sitting on the end of my nose, I probably looked like an early candidate for a crazy cat lady. Give me a litter of kittens and I’d be set.
I put my e-reader aside, giving it up as a lost cause. With him in the room, I apparently had the concentration span of a four-year-old loaded up on sugar. But also, I had in fact come down here for a particular reason. “You didn’t call your brother back.”
“Hmm.”
“He’s called twice now.”
A one-shoulder shrug.
Tiny rivers of rain trickled down the outside of the window and a street light shone in the distance. Typical cold wet weather for this time of year. Just the thought of what it would be like outside in it was enough to make me shiver.
“I could grab the phone for you if you like,” I said. “I was just about to go get a drink.”
He slicked back his hair with the palm of his hand. “Why are you down here? You normally hang out in your room at night.”
“Is my being here a problem?”
“Didn’t say that. Just wondering what’s changed?”
Lots had changed. Lots and lots and then a bit more besides, the bulk of which I was still figuring out. No neat conclusions had yet presented themselves. I might have lied a smidgeon about not being worried about him. He did seem fine. Didn’t mean it wasn’t still my job to keep an eye on him. The funeral and his big blow-up still felt fresh.
“Nothing’s changed,” I lied. “Just got bored on my own, I guess.”
I pulled my comfy big old green cardigan tighter around me, feeling self-conscious. Plus the headlights were on high beam for some reason. Let us not explore why. But my annoying him was a given, I could probably manage it simply by breathing, such was the glory of Jimmy’s disposition. It’d never actually worried me before, however. I must be getting soft. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come down. Maybe I should just abort the spend-time/check-up-on-him mission and retreat back to my room.
“’kay,” he said.
That was it. All of that inner turmoil and he couldn’t even be bothered saying an entire word with regards to my presence. I guess he really didn’t mind.
“You cold?” he asked.
“Pardon?”
His head lay against the back of the couch, slowly looking me over. Nothing changed in his face, but his eyes seemed to heat somehow. Or maybe I was just imaging things.
“You’re all bundled up,” he said. “Need me to turn up the thermostat?”
“No. Thanks.” I might need to put some padding in my bra so my nipples were less obvious in their like for him. The room however was lovely and warm as the couch beneath my butt was beautifully comfortable. Jimmy didn’t stint on life’s luxuries. He wasn’t cheap.
“I’m good,” I said.
A chin tip.
“So, who’s winning the hockey game?” I curled my skinny jean clad legs up beneath me.
“I’m not really that into it. You can pick something to watch if you want.”
“Okay.” I held out my hand for the remote.
A soft chuckle came out of him, a rare, delightful sound indeed. It tickled over my skin in the strangest yet nicest fashion. If he actually ever laughed out loud I’d be in trouble.
“Not a chance, Lena. Only I operate the remote. I’ll flip through channels and you can tell me if anything appeals.”
“Only you operate the remote?”
“Yup.”
“Control freak.”
“It’s a state-of-the-art home entertainment system, Lena. I had it shipped from Germany, special.” He waved the funky black remote around like it was his scepter. King Jimmy. He wished. “No way I’m risking it with you.”
“What?” My mouth fell open. “What do you mean, you’re not risking it with me?”
“The coffee machine.” He grabbed a cushion and stuffed it behind his fat head, changing through to the first channel. A cooking show.
“Keep going.” I liked food. I just didn’t particularly want to be the one to have to make it. My mom had always done the cooking at home, suited me fine. “I barely touched the coffee machine. That was some weird random mechanical fault on the part of the universe.”
“Whatever.”
Next was some old 80s made-for-TV movie. You could tell by the hair, it was so high and dry looking. What wonders a keratin treatment would have done for those poor women. And the ginormous shoulder pads, yikes.
“Keep going, please,” I said. An old episode of Vampire Diaries flickered on next. “Ooh, Ian, you’re lovely. But I’ve already seen this one so keep going.”
“Thank fuck.” Jimmy punched the button and on came a nature documentary. Or at least I hoped that’s what it was given a shiny black stallion mounting a slightly terrified-looking mare took up the screen.
“Hey, it’s just like that shirt you borrowed off Mr. Ericson!” I clapped with joy and a slight amount of malice. “Horses humping, that’s beautiful.”
“You like that, do you?” his sly voice asked.
With the press of a button, miles and miles of bare and bouncy flesh filled the wide screen. With the exception of the woman in the man sandwich’s boobs. Those puppies stayed eerily gravity-defying still. And unlike mine, they weren’t the least bit pointy.
“That’s so sweet,” I sighed. “Nothing says true love like D.P.”
Jimmy sniggered and changed the channel, cars roared around a racetrack.
“Why is it so many men have the sense of humor of a smelly, pimple-faced, barely pubescent little jerk?” I pondered aloud.
“You don’t find that charming?” He asked, brow raised.
“Weird of me, I know.” I snagged a cushion and cuddled it to my chest. “I had this boyfriend once who thought it was amusing to … actually, no. I don’t want to tell that story. Ever.”
“Go on.”
“No. I’m happier pretending he never existed. Let’s leave my shameful dating choices in the past.”
“That’s hardly fair,” he said. “You know enough of my shit.”
Before I could form a reply Formula One turned into Downton Abbey and I squeed with excitement. “Stop here. Stop!”