Moved

Chapter 5

Sunlight from my window woke me without an alarm.

I crept from bed and went to the kitchen, making as little noise as possible.

I had decided to make a big breakfast. Eggs, bacon, biscuits, I made it all.

When it was ready, I loaded a plate and went to knock on Racer’s door.

He didn’t answer right away; and when he did, he looked angry.

“Here,” I said offering him the plate.

“Another bribe?” He didn’t move to take it.

“Nope. A thank you for letting me sleep in your bed until the power was back.” I had to reach for one of his hands and lift it for him to take the plate. He didn’t appear very enthused.

“It’s bacon,” I said, trying to entice him.

He sighed, turned, and walked back into his apartment, leaving the door open.

I followed and sat across from him at his kitchen table.

He ate slowly, but I had patience. His eyes drooped, and I wondered if he really hadn’t slept.

I thought last night had been the breaking point.

When he ate the last of it, I took the plate.

“Mariners are playing later. Want to watch together?”

His eyes found mind. “You follow baseball?”

I shrugged. Guys in tight pants—who didn’t? I also followed football. Hockey I only followed when it was my time of month. A little visual aggression was soothing.

“Yeah, come on down.” Weariness weighted his words.

“See you later.” I jogged up the stairs, took a shower, and changed into yoga pants and a V-neck tee. Then I kept myself busy with studying.

When I went back down stairs several hours later, his door stood open.

The TV quietly broadcasted the anthem. I sat in the second chair, curled up, and settled back.

Racer didn’t say anything to me so I focused on the TV and watched the game for a few minutes.

A Mariners outfielder missed a ball and cost them a double.

I groaned. “If this is how they’re going to play, I need a beer.”

Racer snorted. “Not happening.”

“Oh, come on. Dad let’s me.”

“I’m not your dad.”

No kidding. “It’s just not the same without a beer. What if we share one?”

“No.”

“You can have the can.”

“No.”

“Just a sip?”

“No.” Agitation was creeping into his voice.

“I promise I’ll be quiet for the rest of the game...”

He sighed. “In the fridge. Top shelf.”

I grinned, hopped off the chair, and did a happy dance all the way to the kitchen. His grumbling only amused me more. He had no idea what was coming. I’d done this to my dad so many times.

The pfft of the can opening sounded like the next round bell in boxing. I took a large gulp because it would annoy him, strolled back to the living room, and handed him the can. He glanced at the river I left on the can, shook his head, and drank deep.

He finished the can in five minutes. In fifteen, his eyes drifted close.

I waited another ten before sneaking to his bedroom and grabbing my phone.

Silencing the camera option, I stood in front of him and took two quick shots.

His head lay back in his chair, the beer held loose in his hand, and his mouth slightly parted.

Seeing him in the picture, my heart did a funny little flip.

He looked cute. Not so angry. I almost felt bad for him, but it didn’t stop me from sending a text to my dad.

I put the phone back on his dresser after turning it to silent. I couldn’t have the vibrations giving me away. Then I went back to the living room and sat in the chair to watch the game. The taste of beer mingled with the taste of victory.

* * * *

When the game had ended, I tiptoed to my own apartment. He didn’t even notice. Too many days of interrupted sleep topped off by a beer and a ball game. It did my dad in every time.

My paper was almost finished when I heard him swear downstairs.

I jumped up and dashed to the bathroom, which I had ready.

Clothes flew as I speed-stripped and turned the faucet on.

A shiver ran through me at the touch of the icy water.

But I was safe. Standing there, I listened.

The sudden pounding at the bathroom door almost made me yip.

“Racer?” It wasn’t hard to sound uncertain when my heart was trying to beat its way through my lung.

“You—”

He hit the door. Wood crackled. Ooh, I’d made him so mad.

“Why?” he finally shouted.

I quickly dunked my head under the warming water, wetting it completely before turning the faucet off. In the silence, his harsh breathing filled the room.

“Are you standing in my bathroom?” I dared a peek around the curtain. Yep, he was. His eyes had gone black and a vein protruded from his forehead. I reached around the curtain for my towel, unable to look away from the evidence that he wasn’t like me. I wrapped it around myself and stepped out.

“Why what? And why are you in the bathroom with me when I’m naked?”

His eyes focused past his rage and drifted over my towel. He growled, his frustration evident, but didn’t back out of the room as I’d hoped. Not good. I’d over estimated his need to adhere to polite rules. I blamed that misjudgment on the hamper. He needed to cool down.

“No more games.”

“Yeah, the Mariners lost.”

He bellowed and with lightning speed, he swiveled and hit the door.

His fist tore through the wood, sending splinters flying.

Part of me, the crazy excited part, wanted to clap and laugh at the display.

The rational part of me, the part that realized I knew nothing about his kind, helped muzzle the crazy part.

“Here’s the thing. Your little tantrum doesn’t scare me.

Your tricks, like turning off the power, don’t bother me.

Here’s why. My dad trusts you completely with my welfare.

If he didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.” And that was the only thing that gave me the guts to play with him the way I was.

“We both know he can’t come take me away.

So, you’re stuck with me for nine months just like I’m stuck with you.

We can keep going like we have been the last few days or we can try something else.

Something that won’t keep you up nights. ”

He stayed facing away from me. His shoulders shook with each heaving breath. “What do you have in mind?”

“Friendship. Trust.”

He gave a dry laugh and tipped his head back as if to look at the ceiling. His eyes were closed though. A prayer for patience, then.

“I’m not saying right away. Let’s just try to be nice to each other. I have no friends here and, from the looks of things, neither do you. If you want me to stay put, give me a reason to.” I shifted my hold on my towel to one hand and laid the other lightly on his back.

“If you want this, then call your dad. Tell him what you did.”

I dropped my hand. “Friends don’t give orders or ultimatums.”

He turned on me, still angry, his eyes dark. He looked ready to go another round with the door.

I sighed. “In for a pinch...”

I opened the towel and flashed him.

* * * *

I woke to my dad yelling in my ear...the ear that had a phone pressed to it.

“What in the hell are you trying to do there. Racer said you basically drugged him and haven’t been keeping up on his self-defense training.”

Funny. Racer didn’t mention me running away, him cutting my power, or me flashing him. I stretch lazily, which dislodged the phone, yawned loudly, and murmured, “Come back to bed, baby.”

“Shit,” Racer said before he left the room.

Torturing Racer was way more fun than finger-painting.

Racer spoke in hushed tones then strode back into the room, looking thunderous. He had the phone clenched in his hand.

“What is wrong with you?”

I closed my eyes, ready to go back to sleep. “Friends knock.”

My bedroom door slammed shut in his wake.

* * * *

I stood by my microwave, waiting for the popcorn to give its dying pops. The buttery aroma filled the apartment. My mouth watered. Please let him be ready to play nice. I opened the door and pulled out the bag.

Leaving my apartment door open, I jogged down the stairs. He opened his door cautiously.

“What are you going to do next? Taser me?”

“Stop being so dramatic.”

His anger left him. He stared at me, recognizing his own words. “Is that what this is about?”

“You’re a little slow but this friendship might just work out. What movies do you have?”

He opened the door wide and let me in. I handed him the popcorn.

His selection of movies wasn’t much better than mine but he had a dish on the roof, which meant pay per view.

“What are you in the mood for? Action? Drama? Comedy?” I surfed the list of movies. When he didn’t immediately answer, I glanced at him. He was in his usual chair, but without his usual frown. He looked speculative. A dangerous mood. I eyed him warily.

“Why did you flash me?”

Was that all he had on his mind? I went back to viewing the selections as I answered.

“It was the quickest way to get you out of the bathroom before you destroyed it. And I’m serious about the knocking now that I have a hole in the door.”

His silence drew my gaze again. His expression hadn’t changed.

“And the comment when your dad was on the phone?”

“Did you like it when I barged into your apartment? You barge a lot.”

He gave a slow nod. “Fair enough.”

I settled on a comedy.

“You really should call your dad. Your silence is eating him up.”

“Friends don’t nag,” I said. “Pass the popcorn.”

We watched the movie in silence after that. When it finished, I stood and stretched. I caught him giving me a look before he stood, too. He’d moved too fast for me to decipher it, though.

“I’m going to go study for a bit. If Dad wants to talk to me, tell him I need a phone to do that.”

* * * *

I studied for five hours, taking breaks to snack and start dinner.

By the time I shut down, my stomach had started a rhythmic growl from the aroma of baked chicken.

Twenty more minutes brought a bowl of mashed potatoes, gravy, and steamed baby carrots to the table.

It also brought a knock on my door, which made me smile.

Racer stood in the hall, still a bit wary of me.

“Come in.” I waved him in. “You’re just in time. Grab a chair.”

“I just came up to bring you back your phone.” He held out the phone.

I gave it a brief glance. “Daddy approved?” He nodded. “Set it on the counter. Seriously, sit down. I made enough for two or five depending on how hungry we are.”

He pulled out a chair and sat. I served him, enjoying his lingering doubt.

He still didn’t trust that any of this was real.

It was. I wanted a friend and a home, not a warden and a prison.

He had the power to determine which. I’d given him a taste of what type of inmate I would be. Now, he needed a taste of friendship.

I sat in my own chair and grinned at him. “Dig in.”

The light breading on the chicken crunched as I took my first bite. A groan escaped me. Dad loved red meat so I never cooked chicken much at home. It had been too long since I last had baked chicken, or I was just that hungry.

A faint smile teased the corner of Racer’s mouth as he watched me dig in.

Growing up with Dad and Larry, the occasional dinner guest, I’d always eaten with gusto.

Even in school. The friends I grew up with knew me.

It was just how I was. It wasn’t until college that I realized my lacking table etiquette.

Had I stayed there longer, I might have learned some. ..or corrupted my few new friends.

Gnawing the meat from the bone with one hand, I picked up my glass of milk with my other.

“Ah, that’s good,” I said after taking a big swallowing.

Racer still hadn’t taken his first bite.

“There are eight pieces. Keep staring, and I’m only going to leave you one.”

His grin was blinding. He picked up his chicken and took a huge bite. He watched me as he chewed and swallowed.

“Want to watch another movie?” he said.

Excitement filled me. “Sure.”

Friendship would be great. I couldn’t wait.