“I can close my eyes if it makes you more comfortable.”
“It’s fine. Make yourself at home.” She comes around the bed, then stops, quickly covering her mouth to mute her laughter.
“Yeah, they’re a little short.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But yeah, they’re a lot too short.” She continues to giggle and eye me as she passes. “They grow them big wherever you’re from.”
“My mom was a model. She’s tall, like five-ten or so. Or used to be. She claims she’s shrinking, but it’s hard to tell. And my dad is six-three.”
“My mom just cleared five feet, so I’m lucky I hit five-four. I’m like a giant compared to my family.” She opens the second drawer and pilfers through the items until she finds something that appears to satisfy her and snatches them.
I’m still waiting for her to mention her dad and give me insight into her life, but that reference never comes. “A real giant,” I joke when she passes in front of me again. She doesn’t even notice how she could walk under my chin without a connection.
She disappears again, and I look around. I assume I can set up on the desk, so I grab my bag and start pulling the cable and laptop out.
Story exits the bathroom, then starts our clothes in the washer. I’m still surprised she has the space for the units. “It’s nice to have the washer and dryer.”
“Comes in handy, but it’s a total luxury.”
“I don’t have one in my apartment.”
Disbelief colors her hazel eyes when she turns back to me. “That’s a surprise. I thought most apartments came with them these days.”
Not wanting to talk about laundry in the limited time we have together, I ask, “Is it okay to use your desk?”
“Yes, I can highlight my chapters from the bed.”
I sit down and power my computer back up. “What are you studying?”
“History. I can code my way out of a prison cell, but my memory for world history is not the best. I put this class off as long as I could, and now it’s catching up with me if I want to graduate.”
Swiveling to face her as she settles on the bed, I ask, “When do you graduate?”
“Next spring if I stay on track. You?”
I nod. “Same.”
Her sweet smile renders me speechless. I hate that I put the brakes on earlier when I could be spending time admiring her. But looking around, she’s got a good thing going. She has her life together, was smart enough to drop the dead weight of Troy Hogan, has a job, and goes to school. She doesn’t need me impeding her goals.
Why does she have to make it so hard to turn away from her?
I do anyway, forcing myself to leave her be.
I’m about five minutes into my research when she says, “I forgot to offer you something to drink.”
Looking back, because yeah, I want to see her again, I say, “I’m okay.”
“Hungry?”
Starved actually. Soup and half a sandwich aren’t going to tide me over, but it’s not her job to keep me fed. “I can order from the restaurant downstairs.”
“I could eat a taco or two.” Grabbing my phone, I pull up a delivery app. We find the restaurant and order. “How much do you think they’ll hate us for ordering in this weather?” she asks.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth the trip in tip.”
Her expression sours, but she doesn’t say anything. She slinks lower in the bed and returns her attention to the book, the highlighter poised in her hand and ready for battle in the chapter.
Reading women’s minds has never been my forte, so I stopped. But this feels different. I want to know what Story is thinking, what turned her expression from smiling to seemingly upset. “Did I say something wrong?”
Her eyes are the only things that move in acknowledgment. She then closes the textbook and sits up. “I work in a service capacity, and you don’t know how many times people think they can treat me how they please if they just tip.”
Rummaging through what I said to make her so defensive, I hit the line and instantly regret saying it. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know, Cooper. That’s why I didn’t say anything.” She scoots off the bed and heads into the kitchenette, which takes up a large corner of the small space. Taking out two cups from the cabinet, she continues, “Not everyone can be bought and paid for.” She fills the glasses with water from the tap.
I don’t think I’ve had tap water since . . . well, since ever. When she hands me the glass, she sits on the end of the bed across from me. Concern nor worry lies on her face. Patience comes and goes before she finally says, “It’s not worth any tip to brave the storm outside, so let’s just call it as it is—us being too lazy to pick up our order.”
“I’d need pants to go out, even if it’s just downstairs. Since I currently have none, I wasn’t saying it to offend the delivery person.”
“As I said, I know you didn’t. It just felt personal even though I know it wasn’t.”
I’d already included a hefty tip but go back into the app and double it. She crawls back onto the bed, and we let the conversation lie like a canyon between us. I’m not usually one to give in to the whims and moods of others, but I can’t concentrate on my work knowing she’s upset. I swivel back around and rest my forearms on my legs. “I’ve hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”
This time, she gets up and comes closer. Crossing her legs in front of her on the mattress, she toys with the hem at her ankle, tugging a thread free from her pants. “Thank you, Cooper. I appreciate that.”
I don’t think she’s oversensitive about the subject, but how can I ignore the reason behind her emotions? People are assholes. And that they’re assholes to her is unacceptable.
A knock on the door rattles the wood. Jumping up, she goes to answer it. “I’ve never ordered delivery before, but that was fast.” When she opens the door, she smiles, her guard completely down, totally unaware of any potential danger.
She takes the bag and is thanking him profusely when he looks around her to find me. “You Cooper?”
“Yes.” I’d stand, but the short pajama pants knock points off my clout.
“Thanks,” he says, holding up his phone. “Biggest tip I’ve ever had.”
I nod. “No worries.”
Story says, “Stay safe.” She closes the door and twists around toward me with a knowing grin glued to her face. “Thank you.”
“He deserved it.”
We sort through the bag and take our meals to our respective areas where we’ve each set up our stuff. The tacos are tasty, and I finish mine a lot faster than I would have expected.
“You were hungry.”
“I was.” No long story will get this paper finished, so I turn my full attention to the screen and get back to work.
Just shy of the two-hour guesstimate, I wrap up this son of a bitch. With my hands behind my head, I rock back in the chair as relief washes through me. I’m ready to celebrate, so I swivel around. “I just—”
Bundled in a mess of blankets and pillows, Story is curled onto her side and sound asleep. There’s so much about her that I’m drawn to, but I still can’t pinpoint what it is besides her obvious beauty. I’ve been with a lot of pretty girls. It’s kind of standard fare for me.
Something deeper, buried in the treasure of her eyes, tightens the pull to her. A need to not just get to know her but also to protect the innocence that remains. She looks at me like I’m not the bad guy, like I’m not the person so many have already deemed me to be.
She has a weakness for trouble, and unfortunately for her, I have a fondness for her. Maybe it’s like what Story said and the gods have already plotted our fate. Are we just puppets who need to go along with it?
I rub my eyes that burn from staring at a screen for too long and then run my hands through my hair.
My family would love her. My friends would think she’s cute. She’s everything I could use for damage control with the Atterton University’s professors to graduate on time. They’d think I turned over a new leaf.