Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Princess, no!” Darting down, I grab him around the belly as he tries to use his bottom jaw as a shovel to get more gravel in his mouth.
“Spit it out!” Grabbing his mouth, I try to assist. Princess fights me, scrambling to get away with his prize.
Apparently, according to Micah, ‘Gravel is a delicacy only enjoyed by the finest palates, and Princess has the finest, so just watch him.’ Someone dropped their loaded plate right in front of me, and I took my eyes away from him for two seconds. Two seconds!
“Ah, there you two are!” Micah strides up, and my stomach sinks. Shit, he’s going to yell at me about Princess.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, scooping gravel off Princess’ warm tongue. “I don’t think he swallowed any.”
Micah immediately drops to his knees beside me, and my heart starts racing. I brace automatically.
“Scallywag,” Micah says, his voice soft. “Giving Maddox a hard time. Now that’s not gentlemanly of you, and you know it.”
Micah’s fingers brush against mine, and for a second, I think he’s going to grab my hands and rip them off his pet. Instead, he just helps remove the last bit of the rocks from Princess’ mouth, after which Princess gives a loud sneeze.
“I don’t even want to hear it. That wasn’t an apology.”
Micah’s acting chill. Why? I failed the one job I came here to do. Risking a glance up, I meet his bright blue eyes, and he tosses me a smile. “Sorry about that.”
Is he…apologizing to me?
“He’s a stink.”
What the fuck kind of game is he playing? I narrow my eyes, searching his pretty, flawless face, before wiping my own expression. “No, I’m sorry I should have been watching.”
Micah leans into me, and I lean back. His voice is conspiratorial. “I saw Uncle Tim drop that macaroni. Did you get splattered?"
Micah’s proximity makes my heart flutter and electricity zip across my skin. His skin is so pretty and soft-looking, and up close, I can see that, even though he doesn’t have facial hair, he does shave.
Then, I remember he asked a question. I glance down at myself. I did not, in fact, get anything on me, thank goodness.
“I’m good.”
Micah scoops up Princess and his leash and drops into a nearby chair in the shade. For a second, I’m not sure what to do. My skin prickles as people have conversations I have no context for, and people glance at me like I don’t belong. Because I don’t.
So I follow Micah, sitting in the chair next to him. “I can take him.” My hands itch with the odd need for Princess in my arms. Like maybe people will look at me less if I have the skunk with the bright blue tail.
Good, genius idea.
So instead of reaching, I pick at my nails.
“I hate these things,” Micah says, looking out over the nicely manicured backyard full of people. “They make me twitchy.”
I try to press my own twitchy hands into my lap. Immediately, I wonder why Micah’s here then, but that’s not professional to ask, so I hold it in.
Micah runs his hands over Princess’ back. “Mom is like, crazy, but her one saving feature is that she likes Princess.”
I sneak a glance at him. I didn’t peg Micah to have a crazy mom. I’m not sure how I pegged him, actually. Rich, hot, has anything he could possibly want, and way too cheerful for his own good. Not with shitty parents.
For a second, I see Micah’s mask slip as he looks out over the backyard. Only, his eyes don’t darken, and his mouth doesn’t curl down into a sneer. Instead, his face drops, and he looks almost…sad.
Okay, so different mask; he’s playing the pity card. And considering he’s my boss, I’m obligated to play along at least a little.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Micah glances at me, seemingly surprised. “About what?”
Why the hell is he surprised right now? I’m playing into his game.
He should be feeling at least a little smug.
With monumental effort, I keep my face blank.
“About your mom,” I say. Now I’m looking out at the bushes that line the backyard, all elegantly sculpted.
Micah’s better at this game than Arthur was; I’ll give him that.
“Yeah, well, family is family.” Micah shrugs. “Enough about me. What about you?”
Immediately, I stiffen. He thinks he’s played me so well that he’ll get vulnerability from one sad report about his mom? Maybe he isn’t better than Arthur.
“Your family host stuff like this a lot?” Micah asks.
“No.” Even talking about my family makes a cool indifference skitter down my spine.
I moved away as soon as I could, and I don’t speak to them much anymore.
My siblings and I drifted apart, something I blame myself for.
I don’t even like thinking about them. And I really don’t like that Micah is sniffing after that.
Nose like a shark for weakness, I see. And I must be running around bleeding everywhere.
Must have a sign on me that says: I’m wounded, please hurt me!
“Oh? You live far?” Micah asks, sounding surprised.
“No.” An hour isn’t far, but he isn’t getting any details.
There’s a bit of a silence, then Micah says, “Well, you’re always welcome to hang with my fam if you miss it!”
I steal a glance at Micah again. He’s offering to have me at his family barbecues?
Micah looks over and sends me a wink, those pretty eyes sparkling even in the shade.
Slowly, very slowly, I realize that he’s flirting with me. For the tiniest breath of a second, bubbly exhilaration fills me right before a deep, crushing doom weighs down on my chest, pressing the air out of it.
Flirting won’t work. Not this time. Gotta work harder than that, Micah. In fact, may as well choke me out till I die, because I’m not doing this again.
“I can take Princess,” I offer again, coldly. I need something to do, or I might just walk away from the money that’s going to pay for my dinner tomorrow.
“Okay! I’ll be right back!” Micah’s bouncing up and is gone before I can stop him.
As soon as he’s gone, it feels like I can breathe again. Like the crushing weight of despair has alleviated, and suddenly, the sun is brighter, Princess is soft against my fingers, and sounds of laughter carry over the yard.
Micah’s bubbly voice is back. “Here!” He hands me a plate with a cupcake covered in chocolate frosting and multicolored M&Ms. “These are my weakness. Chocolate on chocolate on chocolate? Sign me up.”
Micah’s voice starts tuning out, like I’m in a tunnel and he’s getting farther and farther away. For some reason, all I can do is stare at the M&Ms. They’re the little tiny ones, and now I’m kicked back into a memory, and I’m ten in the basement of my parents’ church.
It smells like mildew, and the screams of my siblings and the Sunday school kids echo around as they chase each other.
My starched collar itches the back of my neck, and I sit stiffly. Something about this place makes me feel like I’m being watched all the time. Like something or someone knows I’ve let my pets die and haven’t been able to save them. Like they know I’m a bad kid.
I try to make up for it by watching my siblings. I make sure they’re okay, that they get enough to eat, and that no one’s fighting with them.
Then, someone breezes past me and sits primly in the seat next to me.
It’s Joanna. She’s always here helping with the kids, but she never says anything to me.
She has a light blue dress on with her blonde hair in two neat little braids.
She sits silent, back rigid, and I get the feeling we both hate this place just as much as the other.
Then, Joanna glances over her shoulder and gives a tiny nod toward my hand. I frown, but she’s pulling something out of her pocket. It’s an M&Ms pack, the small ones.
She gives me another nod, and I open my hand. Joanna shakes a handful of M&Ms in, then caps the pack and slips it back in her pocket. With a tiny nod, she’s off again, like she wasn’t even here.
I stare at the candy in my hand, then back up at her, a little confused.
Every week, when I start to feel that crushing pressure, Joanna is there, sneaking me M&Ms. We rarely speak to each other until she moves churches, and then I start bringing my own M&Ms.
Right now, it feels warmer than it did back in the church, but there are mini M&M’s in front of me.
I look up, and Micah is standing there, cocking his head.
When we make eye contact, he gives me a look, like Joanna did.
Like he sees me. Like he sees deep down into my soul.
And he stands there, patiently offering an M&M cupcake.
But it feels like he’s offering more than just M&Ms. Like he’s offering me the kindness behind his eyes, just like Joanna.
And I want to take it. It feels like there’s a magnet attached to my hand and his. I want to reach out, grab the cupcake out of his hands, and feel the way our fingers touch.
Then, from somewhere nearby, a dog barks, and I jump, the bark cutting through the peace with a warning. And I remember what happens if I trust someone else.
With a lurch in my gut, I feel sick, and I put Princess on the chair beside me, standing up straight.
I can’t accept kindness because kindness is never kindness, not really. I never figured out what Joanna’s angle was, but I know she moved before she could strike.
“I’m sorry.” My stomach gurgles, and I look around for somewhere to puke. Fuck, I don’t want to puke and embarrass myself like that.
A little divot forms between Micah’s eyebrows. “Are you okay?”
Fuck! I squeeze my fists together to try and quell the unreasonable terror that’s rising up in me.
“I uh, I don’t feel good.”
“Well, poop, how can I help?” He gets closer, a concerned hand landing on my elbow, and I yank back like he touched me with a branding iron.
“Sorry, I uh…I think I need to go home.” Then I feel the unmistakable salivation that comes right before you hurl.
Carefully, I place Princess’ leash in Micah’s hand, then dart around the chairs.
I make it as far as I can before I puke into the side bushes.
Before I’m even done heaving, I keep running to my car.
I need to go home. I need to go home and think about staying professional with this job because I almost took those fucking M&Ms.
And I can’t let that happen.