8. Liar
Chapter Eight
LIAR
I took one day off to sleep on my couch and not face reality, but that afternoon, Nix came over, carrying the package with my name on it.
“I hate to disturb you, but you probably want your stuff back.” Would I ever get used to how good he looked, smelled, and the way he smiled with his eyes, even when his mouth was in a straight line?
I loved his eyes, warm, friendly, but also the kind of eyes that understood without needing a lot of words.
I looked down at the package, sadly having to focus on that instead of him.
I’d gotten the crutches out and could get around almost normally.
I healed quickly, which was the only good thing about me.
“Thanks. Can you put it on the table for me?” I looked back up at him and had to smile because he was handsome, but also had character, and was so much more pleasant to think about than Michael.
“What are you doing up? Where is your aunt?” he asked, following me into the living room.
“She’s at work. She works a lot. She’s a bit of a workaholic, but it’s good to do what you love, I guess.”
“Do you know what you want to do when you graduate?” he asked, putting the package on the table and straightening up.
Dead wasn’t what I wanted, but no other answer would be realistic. “I want to be a painter. Behold my brilliance.” I gestured grandly at the walls where my florals brightened up the already happy yellow walls.
“Those are yours? I noticed them last time. They’re very well done.”
“Ah, a man of the world as well as a man of the people. Such a man. Have you decided what you want in a woman yet? I came up with a questionnaire this morning while I wasn’t in school. Do you want to sit down and we can go through it?”
He eyed me skeptically. “You should be resting.”
“Sit down so I don’t have to keep standing, and I’ll be resting.”
He sighed and sat down on the couch instead of on a chair on the other side of the table.
Oh well. I’d slept on his shoulder all night.
No sense pretending I hated being close to him.
I really didn’t mind. Somehow I couldn’t think of a single interaction that had caused me pain, even when he picked me up and carried me.
It should have been impossible for him to touch me so right, but he did.
I leaned my crutches on the couch arm and sort of fell down next to him, over onto his chest before I straightened up. “Sorry about that. I’m not quite steady yet.”
“Which is why you shouldn’t be gallivanting around your house at all hours of the afternoon. Why don’t you put up your feet?” he said, putting a pillow on the table and lifting my feet. “Now, I will tell you all about the charming females that I encountered today.”
I rubbed my hands together. “Oooh, I sense a good story.”
“Josie Morton has a very old family. She told me all about it while we walked across the green towards the tennis court. She loves tennis and hiking, only not hiking outdoors, but on the treadmill with a nice elevated incline.”
“The two of you could treadmill hike together every week! It would be so romantic, and you wouldn’t even have to be together. I know Josie. She’s actually a sweetheart. She’s somewhat lacking in creativity, but she is genuinely kind.”
“She seemed very kind, if a little uninspiring.”
“There are worse things.”
“Indeed. That brings me to Christina Smallfield.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t say anything. “Are you going to finish, or are you just waiting for me to give you an overview on her character?”
“If you could explain her motivations to me, I would be very grateful.”
“Hm. Well, she wants all the best things, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
She has been dating a man from Harvard who comes from a lot of money, but she’s always looking for something better.
You’re certainly better looking, and if your mother is as wealthy as I think she is, you can offer a little bit of everything. ”
“Money and looks are everything?”
“Money buys all the things you want, and looks can get you everything else. I’m not speaking personally, because I value experiences over things, but for her, things and appearances as well as position are tops.
That means that she’s always pulled together, and she’ll appreciate how gorgeous you are.
She’ll perform well for your mother, because she’ll want to please someone in a position she wants to ingratiate herself with, so she’ll probably follow the rules of your mother’s assignment perfectly.
She’s actually a pretty good choice, and she really is beautiful. ”
“With perfect breasts,” he said, raising a brow.
I rolled my eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that, but since I did, you may as well know that they’re completely natural, if you care about that kind of thing. Most men seem bewilderingly preoccupied with breasts.”
He smiled at me charmingly. “There are less interesting things to consider. Aren’t you going to cover her shortcomings?”
I hesitated. “That feels like gossip. If you could fill out the form on what you want, I’d be better able to steer you away from personalities and traits that wouldn’t mesh well with you, but I believe that everyone has strengths and weaknesses, because no one’s perfect, and no one’s a lost cause.”
He studied me. “Michael Dupre isn’t a lost cause?”
“He’s psychotic. If you got him on the right blend of medication, he’d probably be lovely.”
He grunted, looking unconvinced.
“Anyway, let’s start with personality,” I said, putting the notebook on my lap. “Do you prefer introverts or extroverts? Quiet or loud, shy or outgoing?”
He stared at me for a long time. “Can I like variety?”
I considered then I nodded and wrote down, “Emotional and moody.”
“Hey, I didn’t say emotional and moody, although that’s okay from time to time, but I don’t want a woman who’s a computer with only one set of programming. I want the full range of emotions.”
I tapped my lips. “You aren’t making this easy.”
He shrugged and put his feet up on the coffee table next to mine. “If it were easy, it wouldn’t be worth it.” That was written on the coffee mug on the table between our feet. He had yellow and blue striped socks while mine were yellow with pink kitten faces.
I harrumphed. “Schooled by an inanimate object. I’m clearly amazing at this. What do you want to do with your girlfriend? Do you want to attend sports or art? Opera or death metal? Grocery stores or organic farms?”
“Those are all equally valid options.”
“Meaning that you wouldn’t go to any of them?”
“Meaning that I’d be more interested in the woman than the thing we’d be doing, if she was the kind of woman I was interested in.”
“Then do tell, Nix. What kind of woman are you interested in?”
He shrugged and picked up the remote. “Maybe if we watched some romantic comedies, that would help me do character analysis on my ideal.”
He turned on the tv, and with the buzz of the show, it was impossible not to fall asleep, even though I’d already slept a lot that day. I woke up hungry, with my head on his shoulder, and his head on mine, like he’d fallen asleep too.
“I’ve got to go,” he said, brushing my hair with his lips, like it was the most natural thing in the world before he stood up and stretched. “I’ve got a self-defense meeting to get to. You should come when you’re feeling better.”
I smiled up at him. “I am feeling better. I want to go.”
He studied me. “Are you serious?”
“Sure. I won’t be wrestling on a mat with anyone, but I can sit and watch. I really want to learn to take care of myself so the next time I…” I trailed off and shivered.
He crouched down in front of me, sincerity shining in his blue eyes. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give you a ride.”
I beamed at him. “And I’m hungry, so we’ll have to stop and get something on the way.
If I call Betty, she’ll have a nice dinner for us to pick up.
Do you like fried ravioli? Of course you do.
Everyone loves fried ravioli.” I opened the package and took out the phone.
I’d been avoiding the package, but I needed to get over it, and I didn’t want to be alone when I opened it.
A sheet of love poetry in French fell out. How inconvenient that my French wasn’t terrible. I rifled through the contents, lace teddy, expensive candles and chocolates, and there, at the bottom, my phone. I turned it on and called Betty, ignoring the rest of it.
“Do you want me to get rid of this while you order?” Nix asked in a low voice, almost like I could pretend not to hear him if I wanted.
I nodded without looking at him, and then he was gone, taking the package with him, and leaving me to order for both of us.
My heart was pounding too fast and I wanted to burst into tears again. Everything I’d touched left a residue on my fingers that brought back the other night, being restrained, being forced, being hurt. I blinked tears off my lashes as I finished ordering and Nix came in.
“I should have opened it at my house and brought you your stuff without the rest. He probably thinks he’s being romantic.”
“I told you, he’s psychotic,” I said, without trying to smile. “I think I’m going to start crying again. You should probably go to the thing without me.” I rubbed my chest, trying to get some of the tightness out.
He scooped me up and started walking. “Not a chance am I missing out on Betty’s fried ravioli. I’ll get a pillow and a blanket, so you can be comfortable, but I’m not leaving you alone when you feel sad. That wouldn’t be neighborly.”
I put my head on his shoulder and didn’t argue. I really didn’t want to be alone right then. “Now I have the ‘Won’t You Be My Neighbor’ song in my head.”
“Does that mean I should dance on the porch with you? How would that dance go?” He stepped onto the porch and then spun around, holding me carefully so I wasn’t jostled, then did a few ridiculous dance moves that made me laugh.
“Wow. Is that what I looked like to you? Wow.”