28. High Maintenance?
High Maintenance?
Sheridan
How couldn’t I know that? “Your house is very organized. You even hang up your keys in order.”
“That makes them easy to find.”
“And?” I probably put a little too much attitude in that word.
“The question was, do you like surprises?”
I know, and I was trying to avoid that like the plague. How do I answer that without revealing too much about myself?
But you’re dating this guy; isn’t that the point? It’s only sort of dating. We’re going to break up in a little over two weeks.
And yet you’re still dating him.
Why lie? Why hide?
Because it could be embarrassing. “I don’t know. I’ve never been surprised before.”
“What do you mean you haven’t been surprised before? Like you’ve always known before they could surprise you?”
“No. That’s not what I mean.” But I wish it was.
“Wait, are you telling me never in your life has someone given you a surprise?”
Maybe that’s not true. “Dahlia surprised me when she told me Dylan was married.”
“That’s not what I mean, woman, and you know it.”
I do, but the other way sounds pathetic. My feet start moving faster, like my subconscious thinks the world will be different if I run away from my life.
Only this mess won’t just go away. I’m going to have to face the music soon. “Yeah, I do.” My voice comes out as a breath more than a whisper.
“Woman.”
“It’s not a big deal.” But it is. “So how’s the view there?”
“Stunning.”
“How are you seeing anything in the dark?” I’d have fallen a dozen times already trying to run in the woods without the sun to see by.
“The paths are lit. And they’re well-worn. I really don’t need them when there’s this much moonlight.”
His path is lit? He’d have to be—rich…Duh!
“What about you? What are you seeing?”
That’s an easy topic. “Quiet within the chaos. Urbium feels like one big ball of nonstop energy swirling around everyone who enters it. It would take a force of nature to slow it down. But right here in the streets around Dahlia’s house, there’s peace.
It’s almost beautiful. Or maybe it is in its own unique way.
Like power is beautiful, but different somehow.
Maybe it’s more like a magnificent beast that’s sleeping, and while it’s sleeping, you can pretend it's a sweet little kitten. But it’s going to wake up soon with the strength of a lion set to devour anyone who isn’t prepared. ”
“Wow. Do you write like that, too?”
“Sorry, I got a little wordy.”
“Don’t be. I loved seeing the world through your eyes. Though I meant, what do you see around you?”
Oh. “You’re talking about situational awareness. I’m not so great at that when I run.”
“Woman.”
“You’re sexy when you growl, too.”
“Woman, this is serious. Look around you and tell me what you see.”
“I’d have to slow down. All I really see when I run like this is the next few steps in front of me.” My feet hit the cement sidewalk at a steady pace.
“Woman.”
“Fine, I’m slowing down.” The transition from a run to a walk doesn’t take a second, but my mind always needs a moment to adjust to the change.
“And?”
I spin around slowly, taking the deserted street in.
“There’s nothing. Not a homeless person.
Not a person on their way to or from work.
The street is just empty.” It would be creepy if I hadn’t been doing it every day that I’ve been here.
“I’ve never seen a city neighborhood this safe.
But you don’t need to worry—no matter how tempting the cute little park looks, I haven’t wandered in. ”
“Woman, you’re making my head hurt.”
“Don’t worry.” I start back to a light jog. “I always run alone. Though never at night, and Beach Haven is such a sleepy town, people don’t even jaywalk.”
“It’s that safe?”
He doesn’t sound like he believes me, which is fair because most places, even if they’re small towns, aren’t that safe. “There is some crime because it’s sort of a tourist town, but really, that’s only by the beach. The other side of town, which is where I run, isn’t on any map or GPS.”
“How is that possible?”
“Small towns. I doubt most of them would show up on satellites because of the foliage. The only way you find these roads is with a local.” My feet start to move faster.
“So what you’re saying is I’m going to need you to give me a tour of Beach Haven.”
That’s not what I’m saying at all. Change the topic. “Did you always want to live in a house in the woods?”
“Nope. I picked the house after the club. It was just a coincidence. But I’ve grown to like it. Especially feeling like I’m living outside while still having all the amenities.”
“Wait, what? That isn’t your dream house?” Why does a person own a spectacular mansion like that if it wasn’t his dream home?
“Dream home? No, Sheri, it’s not my dream home. I don’t have one of those. I just asked the architect to design something that fits in with the environment.”
Didn’t care? He didn’t care. Fly spent millions of dollars and didn’t care. We live in two completely different worlds.
“What’s your dream home? Or are you already living in it?”
The urge to laugh manically runs through me. “I actually don’t have one either.” Because I’ve never thought past having a roof over my head. Electricity and running water would be nice, too. Air conditioning and heat would be beyond belief. Then again, I’ve never lived anywhere with either.
“You’re really that low-maintenance, aren’t you?”
I almost snort. “Women get insulted when you think they’re high-maintenance.”
“No, they don’t. Women who are truly high-maintenance expect a man to be willing to step up to their needs.”
“Fair enough. So does that mean you would dump me if you found out I was high-maintenance?” Why did I ask that when we both know it’s going to end soon? Keep it light and friendly.
“Is that something I should be worried about? Because I’m not. I can handle high-maintenance or low. It doesn’t matter as long as you keep kissing me like you did before.”
There’s the flirty attitude I need. Nothing serious. Just fun.
My phone dings, alerting me to a message.
What did Fly send me?
I open it without thinking…‘I love you. I can’t wait for us to be together.’
Wow, that’s a bit much. “Are you serious?”
“Huh?”
“Why would you send me a message like that? We haven’t even gone out yet.”
“What message? I’ve been talking to you. I didn’t send you a message.”
Oh. The nutjobs put my number on the internet, it seems. I’m going to need to change it again.
“Sheri?”
“Never mind. I read it wrong.”
“Read what wrong? What are you talking about?”
Like I want to explain to Fly that some weirdos on the internet enjoy trolling me. “Kissing you on our upcoming date…”