Chapter 8 #2
Do other people do that? Stress clean when someone is set to come over?
Heaven forbid the place look like someone actually lives here.
That would be a travesty. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize tall, dark and thoughtful was going to be barging into my life today or I might have tidied up this morning.
I stuff the papers in my arms into a random box (oh gee, from a book delivery) and stuff it in the bottom of the coat closet. Turning back to the main room, I try to see things from Flint’s perspective.
It’s a studio apartment, with a small bathroom almost the same size as the coat closet, but at least it has a tub.
My bed is stuffed into one corner, separated from the living area with a screen that a local artist painted with fairies and dragons for me, that I never really bother with.
My small writing desk sits close by, with my heavily stickered laptop sleeping on its surface.
A surprisingly comfortable couch, donated by Bits the last time she remodeled, is shoved against the far wall, with a small TV on a tiny table that I painted tomato red.
I sigh. Well, it is what it is.
I open the fridge in the small kitchenette and take in what I have stocked. Not much of anything, which I had pretty much figured. Great.
Turning back to Flint, who is still studying my book stacks, I pull my phone out of my back pocket. “Pickings are pretty slim here. How does pizza sound?”
He finally pulls his eyes away from the stacks and focuses on me. “Pizza?”
“Ah — it’s a cooked dough, with tomato sauce, cheese. You can add various veggies and meats on top?”
‘MEATS?’
I’m never going to get used to that. Whirling around, I spot Calida curled up on the top of the couch, watching the two of us.
“Yeah, meats. We can add meats.”
Calida purrs.
Ok, then. “One large meat and what is your poison, Flint?”
“I’ll eat anything.”
Not going to examine that too closely.
“Right.” I place the order, adding some bread sticks, cheesy bread and a bottle of wine to the pizzas. Pausing, I add a second bottle. I might need a few glasses to get through the rest of the afternoon and evening. “It’ll be here in about half an hour.”
“From where?” Flint moves to sit on the couch, rubbing a hand over Calida’s head as he sits. She continues to purr, apparently very happy about the idea of a meat pizza.
“There’s a local shop just a couple blocks away and I often order from them. Either when I’ve been busy writing and working and haven’t made it to the store, or when I’ve hyper-focused on something and forgotten to feed myself until I’m famished.” I let a self-deprecating laugh.
“You don’t feed yourself?” Flint looks appalled. “How, exactly, does one forget to eat? It is literally a matter of listening to your body.”
I shrug. “I guess my body doesn’t talk loudly enough sometimes. My brain gets focused on what I’m doing and everything else just sort’ve... gets blocked out. Anyway, the pizza delivery should be here soon. Do you want anything to drink? Until they get here, all I have is water.”
“I’m fine. You’ve had quite a day. Why don’t you sit down and relax for a few minutes before dinner arrives?”
I hesitantly cross to the couch and sit down on the opposite end. Calida takes the opportunity to sort of slither down and curl up on my lap.
She seems sweet but this is super awkward.
A few tense seconds pass. I don’t do awkward silence well. At all.
We both start speaking at the same time.
“I know today has been a lot…”
“Why don’t we find…”
We both stop talking. Flint looks a little frustrated, which I suppose I can’t blame him for.
“I don’t want to go into everything tonight.
At the very least, I don’t want to go into it all right now.
Can we just talk about literally anything else?
Or find something to watch? Bits has all the streaming services and is logged in on my TV.
Or tell me about yourself. What do you do?
How old are you? What’s your favorite story?
What were you like as a kid? What’s your biggest pet peeve? ”
“Pet peeve?” Oh.
“Ah… what irritates you? Or... something even simpler like your favorite movie?”
Flint leans back, spreading his arms over the back of the couch. The man has a hell of a wingspan.
“I don’t think you’ll have heard of my favorite movie. In order of your questions, yes, we can find something to watch, as you put it.”
“Do you have a preference?”
He seems to consider this for a moment. “Nothing sad. It has already been a long day and I don’t want to be sad.”
With this lead, I decide to turn on an old sitcom that I’ve watched enough times to recite it word for word.
All seven seasons. These little old ladies living together in Florida never fail to make me smile.
It’s a comfort show. Flint watches intently as I scroll through the various streaming services until I find the one I want.
I can’t tell if he is intrigued because they don’t have technology like this or if it’s just similar enough to… .
Nope. We aren’t going there right now.
Once the show is playing, Flint continues.
“As for what I do, I told you, I’m a retired soldier.
As Goira is in a time of peace, I spend my days training — both myself and younger warriors.
My favorite story is one told at home about a warrior princess who could control emotions and her warrior lover. ”
I feel my heart skip a beat in my chest. He doesn’t seem to notice and continues.
“As a child? I was small, awkward. I enjoyed reading more than fighting, but learned quickly to defend myself as the boys at school were less excited about stories and books than I, and that made me a target. And, I suppose, my biggest irritation is those who are cruel to animals.”
He glances at Calida, who is snoring slightly in my lap, and smiles.
I follow his line of vision and smile. She really is adorable. I think she’s sleeping, but the light purring sound is still there. Maybe she’s just happy. Or maybe she’s dreaming about the snack rats she may be able to find in searching the building.
Not going very far down that train of thought either.
“People who are mean to animals are the worst,” I agree, stroking a hand over Calida’s warm scales. “So, you were a bookworm as a kid and had to learn how to fight to not get your ass kicked?”
Flint laughs, a warm, intoxicating sound.
“Pretty much. I enjoyed stories. My mother was a teacher, so stories were plentiful at home. I was quite quick, still am, come to that, but I couldn’t always outrun the bullies and took a fist in the face a time or two.
So, I decided to start training, and when my mother saw that it quieted my mind, she arranged for additional lessons with the warriors at home.
In a way, I suppose, she set me on my life path. ”
“As parents are supposed to do, I think.” I say, softly, while keeping my eyes on Calida.
I can feel him studying my profile. “I suppose they are,” He pauses. “And your family?”
“I don’t have any family.” It comes out harsher than I intended, so I try to soften the blow. “I don’t really want to talk about that, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
“You didn’t overstep. You had no way of knowing.”
There’s another awkward silence as Flint seems to search for something to say.
“What is your favorite story?” he finally asks.
I glance around the crowded space and smile. “All stories.”
“All?”
“There are stories out there for everyone, aren’t there?”
“There are,” he agrees.
“Isn’t that beautiful? That as different as everyone is, there is a story out there for any and everyone. If a story isn’t to your liking, you can just put it down, and pick up another. You don’t have to be committed to one story. But, I guess, my favorite stories are the ones that make me feel.”
He leans towards me. It’s unnerving to have his full attention focused on me.
“Make you feel what?”
I break eye contact and look down at my lap again, grateful that Calida is there to provide an excuse. Otherwise, he’d be wondering what’s so entertaining about the floor.
“Anything, really. If it can make me feel anything. It’s incredible that some people can just take twenty-six characters and build people, worlds, and… just drag these emotions out of their readers...” I pause. “I want to figure out how to do that.” I finish, on a whisper.
“To?”
I sigh. “To write like that. And I will, damn it.” I add, almost to myself.
Flint reaches out until his fingers brush mine. They’re warmer than I thought, calloused. I slowly raise my eyes back to his.
“You will. I’m sure of it. Nothing will stop you.”
He’s leaning closer, his eyes an incredible blue. His gaze drops to my lips.
And the moment is shattered by the knock at the door, announcing that our food has arrived.