7. Chapter 7 #2
“Uh…once a week?”
“Okay, then.”
It was my turn to smile.
“But—” He just had to interrupt my victory— “I’ll let you guide my exposure therapy if you tell me more about you.”
More about me? Why would anyone want to know more about me?
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.” His lips pressed together into a thin line, keeping his smile away.
“There’s nothing really to know.”
“I’m sure there is.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve lived my life, and I’m sure there isn’t.”
“You’re being obtuse.”
“Obtuse?”
He nodded as we stepped around a double stroller.
“First you call me an annoying pain in the ass, and now I’m obtuse. I don’t think I like these names you call me.” I pushed an exaggerated pout onto my lips.
We stopped behind a couple at a crosswalk. The woman dressed in a red pea coat took a moment to squeeze against her boyfriend’s side. He draped an arm across her shoulders. The action was so simple, yet doused in romance. A bit of longing and gentle affection.
The strings of my heart tugged. I’d never had that.
“…I only meant it as a bit of light teasing. Sorry, Poppy.”
“It’s alright. What do you want to know about me?”
“I’m not quite sure yet. But you needn’t worry. I’ll write it up afterwards.”
“Does that mean you’ll let me interview you?!” I held my hand to my chest and my eyes went wide.
“Of course not.”
I stuck my tongue out at him, and we both laughed.
“There is one thing I’ve wondered about. It’s not like you have on a disguise. How do these people not recognize you?”
“Ah, I wish I could say I’ve mastered the art of blending in, but humans have an uncanny ability to ignore things right under their noses.
Being oblivious is a skill we have become experts at.
Evolution has trained most danger out of us.
No longer are we a society of hunters and gatherers.
If we don’t have to seek, we won’t. It’s that simple.
Also, I think my hat does a pretty good job.
” Grinning, he tapped the brim of his hat.
I wanted to ask about all the people who had sought him out over the years and turned up empty-handed. I wanted to ask what made me different. But we made it to the coffee shop. Summoner opened the door for me, and we walked up to a line four people deep.
“How are you holding up?” I whispered loudly above the jazzy ambient music and general coffee shop chatter.
“I’m fine.” He kept his gaze on the floor tiles.
His usual rod straight shoulders had slumped, and his stiff clenching of his hands worked on beat with my heart.
Concern dried my mouth. Exposure therapy was my idea, and here I was with no idea how to help or what to say.
I gnawed my bottom lip and willed the line to hurry the hell up.
Fortunately, it moved at a decent pace. I stepped up to the counter first, ordering a large mocha for myself.
Beside me, Summoner quietly requested a large breakfast tea.
Before the barista could step away from the cash register and start our order, I remembered something.
Like an excitable puppy with a new toy, I rummaged in my bag, pulled out a tea-stained mug, and held it out to the bewildered teenager.
“I took this by mistake the last time we were here! Sorry about that!” I smiled awkwardly.
The barista grimaced and made no move towards retrieving the mug.
“…Uh, that’s fine ma’am. We can’t take that back.” He said it as if I was stupid for trying to return it.
Maybe cleaning it would have helped …
We walked back to the penthouse with only the sipping of our drinks and the natural noise of New York to keep us company. A blanket of shyness covered me, prickling my skin with the tender peaks and valleys of anxiousness.
Is this how he always feels?
Lines of deep thought etched into my forehead as I tried to reconcile all the images I had of Summoner. He was a complicated man, no doubt about it.
We shuffled up the stairs and nodded a greeting to the smiling door man.
Summoner exhaled deeply as the elevator doors opened and we stepped inside.
My ass pressed against the railing on the back wall as I watched him.
I resumed my role as lead creeper. He shook loose the unnatural stiffness in his shoulders before hitting the button for his floor.
Before the doors could fully close, a large group of men in expensive suits pushed their way in.
Summoner joined me in the back corner of the elevator.
As our journey to the deluxe penthouse in the sky started, Summoner’s body relaxed more, and his arm settled against mine.
I peeked up at him. Time seemed to slow as his hand came up and, ever so carefully, his thumb brushed across my upper lip.
Cool, rough, smooth. The movement was swift, and too quickly, his touch was gone.
The pressure of his touch made that tender spot between my legs ache. Amusement danced in those eyes of his.
“Had a bit of whipped cream on you,” he whispered before turning away.
I blinked.
“…Thanks. I hope it wasn’t there too long.”
“A couple of blocks.”
What?!
Back in Summoner’s house, we settled on the couch with our drinks. I tried not to pay too much attention to the number of couch cushions between him and I. Of course, I counted two spaces. Like a Sesame Street skit on acid, the number two burned into my brain and suddenly became my favorite.
Two! Two!
“You said once a week, right?” Summoner asked.
There was no method to my madness, but I was glad he couldn’t tell that.
“…Yep. Once a week sounds good, you know? Not too much, just enough.”
“Once a week sounds good. So…” Summoner sat his now empty cup down on the coffee table. “What are we watching today?”
“I get to pick?”
He snatched the remote off the coffee table and tossed it at me. Luckily, I didn’t spill coffee on his couch, which likely cost more than my entire apartment.
“Oooo! How about some true crime? There’s this great one about vanishing spouses that I’ve been really into lately.”
“Murder shows? Sounds utterly macabre. How can you watch such stuff?”
The way he dismissed things with flowerful words like macabre made my heart flip.
I shrugged. “I know there’s a huge boom of people jumping on the true crime bandwagon, but I was raised on this stuff.
My dad is a conspiracy nut. I think the twists, turns, and threads of things gave him something other than raising me to focus on.
Funny enough, him trying to figure out what happened to you led us to getting internet, so thanks for that. ”
Smiling, Summoner rested his head on the couch cushion. “Glad to help. Does your dad have a favorite conspiracy ‘bout me?”
“Favorite? I’m not sure, but I know his latest kick is you leading a cult of worshipers in the Cayman Islands.”
He laughed. “Reality is much more boring, isn’t it?”
“Nah, I wouldn’t call this boring at all.” Before I could decipher my own words, I pressed play on an episode of Vanished Vows.