I give him a friendly smile, then I wave. The one eye that I can see goes still but he keeps it fixed on me. So I sit down opposite him, keeping a healthy distance between us for his comfort, and I cover my face, too, mimicking his body language. Then I peek out at him by parting two of my fingers, the same way he just did.
He drops his hands a little. I catch the top half of his face first. I’ve definitely seen him before. He’s staring at me wide-eyed, mouth open, confused and wary and skittish.
I pull my hands down, too. He immediately hides his face again. I do the same. When he peeks out at me, I follow suit.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
And then, I hear something that makes my heart lift.
He giggles. It’s loud and sudden and childlike. And it clearly takes him off-guard, too, because he flinches and then slaps a hand over his mouth.
I laugh softly and give him a little shrug. His cheeks blossom with color but he drops his hands altogether.
Oh my God.
I see it now.
This is the guy who plays football on the front lawn with Uri every now and then. He’s at least six feet tall, broad-shouldered and muscly. He has to be… twenty, twenty-one?
Which is why I can be forgiven for being so shocked to be met with this personality.
A child trapped in an adult’s body. It sends a weird surge of emotion rippling through me, leaving more goosebumps in its wake.
I lift my hand and wave gingerly. He doesn’t return the gesture but his fingers twitch like he’s thinking about it. “I’m Alyssa,” I say again. But this time, I don’t ask for anything in return.
He stares at me unblinkingly, his eyes running up and down my body. Then he wraps his arms around his legs and rests his chin on his knees. I do the same. I catch a glimpse of a smile.
He pushes one foot forward. I do the same.
He scratches behind his ear. I do the same.
“You’re copying me,” he accuses with another giggle. His words are childlike in their innocence but his voice is so grown up. Deep and masculine. It doesn’t quite fit together.
“I guess I am.”
He pulls his legs in tighter as his eyes keep flitting up and down my body. If he had been a quote-unquote “normal” twenty-something, I might have been insulted by his brazen objectification. But in this case, I know he’s not checking me out. What he’s doing is sizing me up.
“I’m sorry I scared you earlier. I didn’t mean to.”
He frowns. “It’s not safe here.”
That feels like a bucket of ice water. Is he trying to warn me about Uri? Has he been hurt by Uri?
No. It can’t be. I’ve seen them together. Sure, I’ve watched from a distance, but body language is hard to deny. It’s hard to fake, too.
“What do you mean?” I ask, keeping my tone as calm as possible.
“The rat spray. It’s poisonous.” Again, I suppress a shiver of unease. What is he talking about? Is there something going on that I’m not aware of? He turns his nose up to the ceiling. “But… I can’t smell anything.”
“What are you trying to smell?”
“The rat spray. To get rid of the rats.”
“There are no rats here.”
He starts rocking back and forth again. It’s not as pronounced as the last time, but it’s an easy tell. Still, I have no idea what about my statement has upset him. “There are rats,” he insists in a harsh mumble. “Uri said.”
Ah.
“Oh! Of course. That’s right,” I say, slapping my palm against my forehead. “How could I forget? There were rats but Uri took care of them.”
The rocking slows and his eyes home in on me. They’re blue, too, but a different blue than Uri’s. Lighter, more subdued. “Why are you here?”
“Because—” If I’m reading him right, I deduce that Uri means a lot to him. The very idea of Uri lying to him nearly spun him into anxiety. “—I needed help. I needed a place to hide out for a bit and Uri told me I would be safe here.”
“It is safe here. Except for the rats.”
“Right. Except for the rats.”
“He didn’t tell me that you were down here.” His brow furrows. The rocking starts up again. “He didn’t tell me.”
“That’s my fault. I told him not to tell anyone. I was scared and I didn’t want anyone to know.”
He bites his bottom lip. “Oh.”
I look around the space, seeing it in a new light. “This place is amazing. I love it here. It’s really cool.”
The rocking stops and a slow smile spreads over his face. “Me, too.”
“Is that your video game collection in the corner?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Wow.”
His smile gets a little wider. “You wanna play?”
“I don’t know how. Will you teach me?”
He nods again, but not like an adult would nod. His head bobs up and down fiercely. Grinning, he launches himself up off the ground and I follow along. His size is even more obvious when he’s standing, but he stays hunched and cautious like he needs to be ready to flee at any moment.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” His cheeks go red. It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one who suffers from a blushing affliction.
“Lev.”
I smile. “Is that your name?”
“Yes.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“You’re very pretty.”
He says it as soft as a whisper, but I hear it clearly. I give him a warm smile. “Thank you, Lev. And thank you for letting me use your basement. I promise I’ll give it back as soon as I can, okay?”
He wrings his hands together and nods. Then he gestures for me to follow him and bounds over to his video games.
We play games into the wee hours of the morning.
We don’t exchange a single word the whole time, but strangely, I can feel him relaxing with each passing hour.
Once I’ve lost the twentieth game in a row to him, he puts his controller down. “You’re really bad at this.”
I laugh. “You’re right. I am really bad at this. But you know what I’m better at?”
“What?”
“French toast. Do you want some?”
His eyebrows pull together and he shakes his head. “Too soggy.”
“Ah. What would you like to eat then?”
“Cornflakes.”
“Perfect! I’m great at making cornflakes, too.”
My joke clearly goes over his head because he doesn’t even crack a smile. “You are?”
I nod. “Come on, you can watch me make them.”
He follows me into the kitchen and watches carefully as I pull out two bowls, two spoons and the half-eaten bag of cornflakes that’s sitting in the fridge. I pour in the cereal, add the milk, and push a bowl towards him.
“Ta-da! Gourmet.”
He stares at me, then at his bowl, and finally at mine. “Wow. You really can make cereal.”
My heart shudders. I know I should laugh but I really just want to cry. No, what I really want to do is hug him. I would, too, if I didn’t suspect that he would be completely freaked out by any sort of physical contact between us. He’s made sure to keep at least a few feet of space between us at all times. I’m not gonna cross that line until he does.
He takes a big spoonful; a trickle of milk slides down the side of his mouth. “It’s delicious.”
“Thanks, Lev. You’re the only one who appreciates my cooking.”