Chapter Five #2
“Transportation,” Dylan answers me. “Horses will die for you if you bond with them enough. She’s good to take hunting and she’s always reliable.”
I let out a sigh of relief hearing she won’t be made into dog food any time soon.
“I’m kind of sad you don’t have a barn cat.”
“Oh, we do.” There’s a note of sarcasm in Dylan’s voice. “She just lives in Jason’s room.” I can’t help the snort of laughter that leaves me even if I tried. “When we got her, we put her in the barn the first night and she climbed her way to Jason’s balcony. Hasn’t left his room since.”
It’s kind of endearing that the cat loved Jason so much it scaled a house to get to him, though I doubt the cat wanted Jason specifically. It probably just wanted to get somewhere warm.
“Does your room smell like a barn?” I raise one eyebrow toward Jason. His only reply is to roll his eyes and take another bite of his buttered bread.
After everyone has finished their stew, Jason shoves his empty bowl and spoon towards me in a silent demand for me to clean the dishes.
They don’t have a dishwasher here—which is barbaric—but I take the dishes from the table reluctantly, choosing not to fight this battle.
I’ll bottle my rage for a cause more worthy of it.
And what do the boys do while I clean up? Lounge on the couch or in the recliner. Jason is reading a book while Dylan knits something.
Color me sexist, but I never thought I’d see Dylan Alder knitting.
He was a star wrestler before he got kicked off the team.
I’m not used to men who know how to do “domestic” activities like knitting.
I think my dad would have a heart attack if he saw another man enjoying a so-called “feminine” hobby.
“So,” I say as I flop down on the couch opposite Jason, “what do you guys do to pass the time up here?”
I bend my head at the neck to peer at the title of Jason’s book. The Shining by Stephen King. Why am I not surprised he likes thriller novels?
“Sometimes we watch movies,” Dylan pipes up to my right. “I usually download a bunch before we go into hibernation.”
“Well I know what the Athlete’s favorite movie is,” I point my thumb over my shoulder at Dylan. “What’s your favorite movie?”
Lifting his book, Jason sends his gray gaze over the top of the book to meet me then goes back to reading. Am I supposed to interpret that as The Shining is his favorite movie, or that he prefers reading? I guess I’ll figure that out in the next four months.
But then he does something that takes me by surprise, he nods his chin at me over the top of the lowered book. Is he asking what my favorite movie is? Someone pinch me, I must be hallucinating.
“Me?” I place my hand on my chest dramatically. “Well….” I draw out the L sound. “I’d have to say Hocus Pocus.”
“What?” Dylan sounds deeply offended beside me. “That’s a Halloween movie.”
“So?”
“So! Do you watch it all year round?”
I shrug my left shoulder. “Just whenever I’m feeling down. If people can watch Die Hard year round, I can watch Hocus Pocus year round.”
“That’s because Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie—.”
“Blasphemy!” I shoot a finger toward Dylan as though it’s a magic wand and I’m about to Avada Kedavra him. “It is absolutely a Christmas movie.”
Dylan and I enter into a heated debate about the themes of Die Hard as if we are discussing a deep philosophical topic. Eventually, we don’t come to a conclusion so Dylan claims he’s “too exhausted by my ignorance” and retires for the night.
Being left alone with Jason feels acutely awkward. The last time he and I were alone together (excluding him saving my unconscious ass) was not a pleasant experience.
I look around the room taking in details I’ve already taken note of. The chip on the window frame. The uneven pattern in the deer hide rug in front of the fireplace. The evergreen design on the blanket covering the back of the couch.
The pad of a socked foot taps my thigh and I look back to Jason who is extending his book to me, is this some sort of peace offering?
I take the book in my hands and let it fall open to the bookmarked page about halfway through.
By the way the spine is loose and the pages are yellowed, either this is a second hand book or Jason reads it a lot.
I guess he did indicate this was his favorite.
Scanning the page to recall what part of the book this is, I feel the burning weight of Jason’s eyes on me from the other side of the couch.
I look up and ask, “What?” Sounding an awful lot like a big sister annoyed by a younger brother.
Though, I’m pretty sure his birthday was in September and mine is coming up in December, making him the older one by a couple of months.
Jason nods at the book then meets his expectant gaze with mine again. It’s then I realize he wants me to read aloud.
“You want me to read you a bedtime story?” His brows manage to get even lower on his head making his brow line even more prominent.
He has that whole caveman-lumberjack look going on.
His facial features are so primal, nothing soft about him.
But I notice his beard is cut with precision and shaped with accuracy.
He’s wearing a blue flannel and jeans now that he’s inside, however, I saw that he was wearing snow pants earlier before dinner.
Dylan said he was just working in the shop but he must have bundled up for the trek between the house and the shop.
It’s an odd thing to consider, but I wonder if he’ll cut his hair in the winter or if he has someone in town he sees after the snow melts. He’d look good with longer hair. Really lean into the mountain man-Viking aesthetic.
I start at the first paragraph on the page the book opened to but Jason taps me with his wooly foot again. Then he leans over to flip the pages back to chapter one and sits back to enjoy the performance.
“You’ve already read this part. You want to start over?” He nods, a straight answer for once.
I decide to indulge him and his demands, starting from the beginning of a story I’m sure he knows by heart.
Two hours slip by without my notice before I look from the book to the clock and realize it’s past eleven. Then I gaze at Jason who is still staring with rapt attention waiting for me to continue.
“It’s late,” I point out. “I think I’m going to go to bed.
It’s been a long day. I don’t think I’ve exhausted myself like that since I was on the volleyball team.
” Jason snorts a laugh at my expense. “Hey, I’m not as active as I used to be.
The body needs consistency to maintain that kind of endurance.
” Jason raises a brow as well as the left corner of his mouth, and I know he’s thinking of a dirty joke.
“Watch it.” I point a deliberate finger.
Then I lay the book down on the couch and head toward the stairs, ready to crash on the comfortable bed and dream.
And to my surprise, I do. I’m not thinking about home.
I’m not thinking about when all this is over.
I don’t want to be here but…I’m also not as angry as I was this morning.
I’m indifferent.