Chapter 12 Hazel #3
“Sorry I don’t believe the couch was meant to be eaten on,” he said.
I pulled out a chair and plopped down as Reid moved the pizza boxes to the center. A splotch of steam still smudged his glasses from when he’d opened the box. I resisted the urge to reach out with my sleeve and wipe it away. He beat me to it anyway, pulling them off and wiping them on his shirt.
“You probably had a heart attack yesterday when we ate straight from the takeout cartons on my couch,” I said.
Ruby laughed. “No way! Do you have photographic evidence?”
Reid shrugged. “I didn’t mind.”
“Did you share cartons and everything?” she asked.
I nodded.
She tilted her head, glancing between the two of us. “Reid never shares food. When we were kids, he used to build a napkin wall around his plate because he was sick of us asking if we could try whatever he got. It became a running joke to attempt to get him to share.”
“Can we change the subject, please?” he asked, visibly unamused by his sister’s story.
Ruby chuckled and shook her head. “Hazel, don’t let his rules fool you. We always ate on the couch growing up. The table-only-thing is an adult development.”
Reid shook his head. “Not always.”
“At least every Friday.”
“Only because Mom worked late and Dad was in charge of dinner,” he said.
“And he’d order take-out, and we’d watch a movie on the couch. Those memories aren’t fond ones for you?”
There wasn’t much behind my smile as I observed their back and forth.
As an only child, I’d never had that kind of familiarity with anyone.
Watching close friends or siblings interact always made me feel like I was missing out on something, like there was this big life experience I’d never get to know simply because I’d been born alone.
“Hazel can eat on the couch if she wants to.” The sound of my name interrupted my thoughts.
“I’m alright. I wouldn’t dare disrupt your household.”
“See?” Ruby held out a hand. “She thinks you’re rigid.”
Reid let out a long sigh. “I am not rigid.”
Ruby and I exchanged a look.
“I’m not,” he said again.
“I didn’t say that,” I offered, although I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smirking.
Reid was the definition of rigid. He was sweet and kind, which is why he was putting up with me for as long as he already had, but he was still stiff.
Inflexible. He had a robot vacuum, countertops so shiny you could see your reflection in them, and not a single thing in his house was out of place.
We had a few more slices of pizza before Ruby leaned toward me, concern dancing in her eyes. “So how are you really doing?” she asked.
“Oh, y’know, been better.” The lightness in my voice was forced. “I just wish this could all be over. And it’s so hard not to blame myself.”
“You can’t blame yourself for some twisted person trying to take advantage of you,” Reid said, a determined set to his jaw.
I smiled gratefully at him. “But it was me who posted way too much information on social media. I should never have done that.”
“It sucks we have to be vigilant with our privacy, but that doesn’t make this your fault.
Crimes will always be the fault of the person stalking, or harassing, or taking advantage.
You’re a victim, Hazel. And you’re allowed to feel frustrated and upset.
But not at yourself.” His words were unexpected, but I appreciated them nonetheless. I smiled when he caught my eye.
“Yeah, we’re all guilty of oversharing. You can’t beat yourself up about that,” Ruby added.
I groaned. “It’s hard not to. If it weren’t for my own stupid post, I’d be cuddled up with my cat on my couch, online shopping for something nice to buy myself once my check cleared.”
“Well, after you paid off your debt,” Reid interjected.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Reid. After I paid off all my debt. Geez, can’t I buy something fun in my own fantasy?”
Ruby laughed. “If you’re trying to prove to us that you aren’t rigid, a snide comment about financial responsibility isn’t helping your case.”
We ate the rest of the pizza and conversation flowed.
They asked about where I grew up, how I liked this side of the state.
Ruby and I talked about our career choices.
Apparently, she wanted to switch to doing more weddings and events.
A good friend of hers was a makeup artist and had a side gig.
She asked if I’d ever want to join them for some larger events, and I agreed without hesitation.
Eventually we moved to the couch. Ruby said she’d stay for one episode of some home renovation show before leaving, but three episodes later, she and Reid were both asleep on the couch.
I was still awake, curled up into the corner, a fleece blanket surrounding me.
Bed sounded amazing, but I couldn’t quite motivate myself to stand up, brush my teeth, and do the whole pre-bedtime ordeal. Not just yet.
The couch was perfectly smooshed around my body and my eyelids sagged as I watched yet another subway tile backsplash get installed.
It occurred to me that this was the most relaxed I’d been in a while.
The knot of anxiety that had been wound up inside me for weeks had loosened a little.
It wasn’t gone completely, not by a long shot, but I found that for once, I could take a deep breath.
I looked at Reid, watching as he breathed softly, his glasses falling down his nose. He was so damned likable. He had no reason to be so kind to me, to offer his home when he hardly knew me. To help me tackle what was beginning to seem like an impossible mystery.
My life was a mess—I was a mess—and he was still taking the time to put some pieces back in place.
As if sensing my eyes on him, he stirred. He blinked a few times before focusing on me. I didn’t bother looking away. He smiled and shifted, getting up and stretching before draping a blanket over Ruby’s sleeping form.
I got up too, walking heavily toward the hallway that led to my room.
“Do you need anything?” Reid whispered.
“I’m good.”
“You sure?”
I smiled sleepily. “I’m sure.”
“Alright. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He pointed behind him, toward his room.
“Night, Reid.”
“Night, Hazel.”