Chapter 25 #2
I knock on Delaney’s apartment door Monday evening, gift box in hand.
She sent me her birthday present gift list, and it was exactly what I thought it would be.
Since getting her a taxidermied animal, a live puppy, or a sword were outside of my gifting realm—or sanity—I opted to text Ellora and ask her what a reasonable gift would be.
The door swings open and Delaney stands there, arms raised as she shrieks at me to “Come inside, you little meshuggeneh”, then pirouettes away, a flowing magenta feathered robe a rich widow would wear in the nineteen thirties twirling behind her.
Ellora pops into view, and I’m thankful for a familiar face amongst the sea of unknown people.
“Hello, Dominic,” Ellora says, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, finger nails gripping into her small biceps.
“Ah, just as uncomfortable in large groups as I am, I see,” I say, closing the door behind me and placing the gift box atop the pile stacked on a small coffee bar to my left.
“If I didn’t love Dellie…” Lor sighs heavily, eyeing a particularly theatrical fellow in Delaney’s kitchenette trying to catch olives in his mouth.
Love. Ellora just said she loves Delaney.
I keep my face neutral, knowing how big of a deal this must be for Ellora, let alone voicing it to me.
A wave of emotion floods me and as much as I want to pull her in for a hug and tell her how proud I am of her for putting her heart out there, I don’t want to scare her.
She’s already clearly uncomfortable and now is not the time.
“So Delaney’s place is…wow,” I say, looking around her apartment.
Between the two dozen people filling the small space, I take note of the obscure art, irregular shaped furniture, and a different bright pastel colour thrown on each wall.
I almost feel dizzy as my eyes bounce from oddity to oddity.
A faux deer head on one wall, a life flotation device on another, pink walls, blue walls, hell, even the ceiling is painted like a sunny blue sky.
Fluffy white spray painted clouds and all.
“Yeah,” Ellora releases a sharp exhale through her teeth, grabbing my arm.
“You get used to it. Or take an Advil for the inevitable headache. Come on.” She drags me through the throng of people to a small open space at the back of the apartment, there sits a little alcove turned into a reading nook, left unoccupied.
She throws herself down on the cushions of an elongated chaise, leaving me space to perch on the end.
I have a full view of the party before me which seems to be mostly theatre students.
I spot a small group actually holding up what I hope is a fake skull while spewing off Shakespearean monologues.
I turn to Ellora, who looks pained. “Shakespeare, eh? Not my thing. Too moody for me.”
“Actually, the skull represents the inevitable death and decay of the human body,” Ellora says far too casually. My mouth falls open as my head tilts to the side to look at her.
She shrugs. “Delaney talks a lot. I listen.” She lifts a drink from a small built-in shelf behind her, her usual Coke and lime accented with a neon curly straw.
She takes a long sip then tips her head towards the kitchen.
“There’s more drinks in the kitchen. No alcohol though, Delaney said none in the house now that I live here.
” Lor turns back to chew on her straw but a small smile plays across her mouth.
Before I move to get myself a drink I turn to my sister. “I’m glad you have Delaney, Lor. You two are good for each other.” Ellora smiles. It’s small but it means a lot. She nods once and I turn, heading towards the fridge.
I open the door and peruse the rows of pop cans lined neatly on shelves.
Picking an arbitrary flavour of soda, I turn to skim the crowd.
Another Delaney-level shriek pierces the din of conversation, drawing my eyes to the front door where she stands.
Delaney has her arms wrapped around a curvy frame with golden curled hair.
She pulls back and Celeste’s face hits me like a Mack Truck.
I know I’d seen her at the house a few times, but this feels different.
This is social, purposefully seeing people you want to see rather than awkwardly bumbling into them in happenstance.
Or worse, you almost get a concussion at seeing the love of your life in her skimpy sleep outfit while trying to fix her leaky toilet.
Top five most painful and erotic moments of my life.
Celeste glances up from Delaney’s animated welcome and locks eyes with me from across the room as if she already knew where I was. With my heart stuck in my throat, I give her a small wave and tight-lipped smile, shoving the memory of her barely-there tank top from my mind.
God, this is awkward. What do I do with my hands? Do I go over and say hi? Let her come to me?
My internal debate is broken when one of the Shakespeare re-enactors bumps into me, spilling my open pop can down the front of my sweater.
“Shit.” I try to mop up the spill but I’m drenched. I have nothing to change into and I doubt Delaney would have anything remotely appropriate for me to wear in her closet.
“I beg your finest pardon, my dear fellow! Twas a mishap of thine own accord, methinks,” the short guy apologizes to me…I think?
“Um, no worries dude, just an accident.” I smile and turn to put my can on the counter when Ellora pops out of nowhere again, grabbing my arm and pulling me.
“Come on, I have some oversized band tees that would probably fit you,” she says by way of explanation. She leads me to what must be Delaney’s bedroom.
I guess this is Delaney and Ellora’s bedroom now.
I quickly glance around the plum-purple room.
The bed is made up with deep maroon bedding, shelves of tinctures of what I believe to be potions line the walls.
Mahogany furniture fills the small space.
It is all very medieval. I can’t say it isn’t a nice break for my eyes from all the pastels and pops of colour in the rest of the apartment, but knowing that it is now an intimate space Delaney shares with my sister makes me feel intrusive.
“Are you sure?” I ask Lor, not sure if I’m asking permission to borrow the shirt, be in her personal space, or both.
She waves a hand at me. “It’s totally fine.
I have a million of these.” She pulls an old Obituary death metal tee out and holds it up to my frame.
“Should be good. Leave your sweater in the washroom hamper, and I’ll give it back to you after it’s washed.
” Ellora points to a second door leading to a small en suite I hadn’t noticed.
“Thanks, Lor,” I say swiftly as she turns to leave, shutting the bedroom door behind her.
I make my way to the bathroom which is another shockingly different decor.
It’s completely monochrome. White tile floors gleam in stark contrast against obsidian black accents.
I spot the black hamper by the brilliantly white porcelain toilet.
Just to my left, my eye catches on some colour.
Three towels, in bright primary colours, hang a little higher than average on a pristine white wall.
It feels purposeful, a splash of colour amongst the black and white.
I pull my sweater over my head and toss it in the hamper.
I wash my hands, ridding them of the sticky pop.
In just my—thankfully dry—jeans that hang low on my hips, I reenter the bedroom aiming for the band tee laid on the bed for me.
If Lane doesn’t make it big in theatre, she should think about interior design. It’s crazy decor but someone’s gotta be into it.
Just as I reach for the tee, I hear the bedroom door open and close quietly. My head shoots up to see an equally shocked Celeste, staring back at me, a large gift box tucked under her arm.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” She quickly whips around to face the back wall. I scramble to throw the t-shirt on and explain why the fuck I’m shirtless in her best friend’s bedroom.
“I spilled…a Shakespeare guy…there was pop…” I fumble with the head hole, trying to cram my neck where an arm should go.
“Here, let me help.” I hear a soft rustling sound I assume is the box she was holding being placed on the bed.
Then I feel delicate fingers pull and shift the shirt into the correct position and my head finally pops out from the correct hole.
As she pulls down the hem of the shirt her fingernails skim my torso.
The barest hint of contact streaks heat across my skin—hot and fucking bothered.
I clear my throat and shake the image of her hands elsewhere on me.
“Thanks. It was just…” I say, desperate to rid the rising heat that fills my cheeks.
“Ernest? Yeah, he gets very carried away once he turns on his Shakespeare.” She smiles and we both chuckle a little awkwardly, stepping away from each other.
“So what’s in the box?” I ask, desperate to make any conversation. She looks confused at first then her eyebrows shoot up as she turns back to the box left on the bed.
“Oh! Right. Well, it’s a little morbid and I didn’t want to cause a stir from a few of the more outspoken vegans that are in attendance so I thought I’d hide my gift for Lane here and have her open it privately,” she says.
I quirk an eyebrow, a half smile tugging up the side of my lips. “Hoot, what’s in the box?”
She gnaws on her full bottom lip with her top teeth, clearly weighing whether she wants to show me her obscure gift or not.
“Okay fine. But do not judge me.” She closes her eyes, takes a deep inhale, and lifts the lid. I lean in to see and gasp at the absolute atrocity sitting inside.
“No!” I say, a hand slapping over my mouth as I start to laugh.