9. Henry
I’ve been walkingaround with an extra skip in my step since the moment I saw Gia.
There must have been a super low chance of this happening.
I mean, out of all the small mountain towns in the area, she ends up here.
Again.
And right when I was talking about her, she appeared.
I throw my bag into the back of my truck and shut the door before hopping into the front seat. Pulling my phone out, I check my schedule again to make sure I’m done for the day before I make the short drive home to shower. After clearing out Mrs. Bartley’s gutters, I need it.
Even feeling grimy can’t wipe the smile off my face. When I pull up to the green house where I rent an apartment, I throw my car into park and sit back. Staring ahead at the white wraparound porch, I can’t help but think about how close Gia is. I wonder if we’ll run into each other again. I don’t have plans for tonight, so maybe I’ll go out for dinner. She’s gotta eat, right?
Luckily, Ever Lake is only so big.
Grabbing my backpack, I hop out and take the front steps two at a time. Before I make it to the door that leads up to my apartment, the door to the right swings open.
“Come down for some tea after you wash up,” Hank, the owner of Daisy’s Diner and one of my landlords, orders me with a stern look. No matter how serious he’s trying to be, he can’t scrub the twinkle in his eye.
“Only if you promise you have that apple tea,” I respond with a smile.
He just grins, his white smile contrasting against his rich brown skin. Shooting me a wink, he shuts the door on me.
With the promise of tea, I unlock my door and make my way upstairs. Hank and Betty have been my landlords for a few years now. Once my parents were convinced that I could live on my own, even if it’s within town limits, I snagged this apartment.
They had just finished renovating their home, splitting it into the upstairs/downstairs duplex it is today. And I love it.
I love having my own place, doing what I want when I want. It’s been the perfect bachelor pad. Even when Ian visits and stays on my large sectional couch, it’s a big enough place that we still have our own space.
And let me tell you, after growing up as the youngest of five, space is a hot commodity.
And I love Betty and Hank. They’ve become great friends.
I unhook the carabiner clip that holds my keys from my belt loop and slide my key into the lock of the door at the top of the stairs. I turn the doorknob, step inside, and shut the door behind me.
Inhaling deeply, I take in the smell of home. It’s a mix of the lemon cleaner I used this morning in the kitchen and the teakwood candle I burned while I ate breakfast. My shoulders relax, and all of my usual day to day stress melts away. I drop my bag on the couch and pull out my phone to check the alert I got while I was driving.
It says my blood sugar is low, so I grab a juice box from my fridge and suck down half of it. Knowing that should be enough to level things out, I head straight for the stall shower in my bathroom. I turn the shower knob to let the water heat up and start peeling away my clothes.
Steam begins to fill the bathroom right as I’m pulling off my black boxer briefs. Stepping into the shower, I close my eyes against the hot spray and feel leagues better immediately.
I let the hot water and soap rinse my day away down the drain. Not the good parts, like seeing Gia again, but the less-than-ideal parts. When I didn’t realize how big the gutter job was going to be. When I didn’t know enough about a seemingly small electrical issue, so I had to pass the job off to someone who did. The fact that I’m not entirely convinced that I’m only excited about seeing Gia again because of the sex we could have.
That thought filters in and out of my head so quickly that I don’t get a chance to examine it.
What do I want to do with Gia? Another hookup? Possibly a long-term thing like I have with Milly?
Closing my eyes against the idea, I go through the motions of my shower like normal.
I may not know what I want with Gia, but I do know one thing.
Seeing her in Ever Lake again improved my mood tenfold.
And that has to mean something
“All right, fill us in. You’re clearly bursting to say something.” Hank spares me a glance as he pours three cups of tea.
I’m sitting on their overstuffed couch nibbling on one of Betty’s famous ginger cookies while Hank gets our tea and Betty lounges on her favorite recliner.
Their apartment is almost a mirror image of mine, but it looks much homier with all of their stuff spread out.
My friendship with the couple started before I even moved into their upstairs apartment. Before they took on the massive renovation, I was coming by to help out with odds and ends. They always invited me in for tea, which, truthfully, I hated in the beginning.
I’d always been a coffee drinker, not because it gave me unending energy or woke me up in the morning, but because it seemed like the thing to do. My dad drank coffee in the morning, and so did my brothers growing up. So when I turned fourteen, I just started drinking it too.
Turns out, I don’t actually like coffee all that much, and these days, a cup of green tea or a nice grapefruit oolong does the trick.
I haven’t told Betty or Hank outright, but I’ve started buying my own and drinking it on my own time. Part of me thinks that if they knew, maybe they’d stop asking me to stop by for a cup. And that would suck.
Afternoon tea here is one of the highlights of my days. I don’t have all that many friends other than these two. So many of my classmates moved away after high school and never came back, much like my middle brother Grant. At least my classmates sometimes come back to visit.
Once we all have our tea, Hank settles on the other end of the couch, looking at me expectantly. When I bite back a laugh and take a small sip of the tea, he raises an eyebrow slowly, and Betty hums impatiently.
I saw Betty earlier at the bar, and she even said something when she first saw me. Must’ve seen how happy I was after I ran into Gia.
“All right. I’ll tell you.” I smile into the tea and take another sip before placing the cup onto the coffee table. “The girl I’ve been telling you about—”
“The girl you met the one time?” Betty questions, cocking her head to the side. “That night at the bar?” Her question isn’t accusatory, per se, but I’m sure she knows that our short conversation at the bar wasn’t the end of our interaction that night. Luckily, despite being old enough to be my mom, she doesn’t mention it.
“Yes, that girl.”
“The one who made such an impression you can’t shut up about her?” she continues, a smirk growing on her face.
“If you want me to shut up about her, I can stop now.” I offer my own smirk, knowing damn well they both are dying to hear what I have to say.
“Oh, carry on, will you?” Hank interrupts us both with raised eyebrows.
“Well…” I pause specifically to draw the moment out, building up suspense. “She’s back in town.”
“Is she?” Betty’s interest is clear as she leans forward like she doesn’t want to miss a word.
“She is. I think she’ll be here for quite a while.” At least, I hope.
“And? Will you pursue her?” Hank asks, leaning back to enjoy his tea.
Pursue her.
Into bed? Maybe. But I sure as hell won’t say that out loud to them. “I’m not sure.” I want to see her again, talk to her, but after that? Who knows.
“You haven’t stopped bringing her up since you met her months ago.” Betty’s eyes narrow slightly. “And she’s back.”
“Right.”
“Is there a reason you wouldn’t want to date her?” Hank asks, snatching a cookie from the small plate on the coffee table.
“No…” But would she have any reason to date me?
And do I even want to date at all? I’m so busy that I barely have time for afternoon tea most days. Well, pretty busy, but I also make my alone time a priority.
“You know, you probably could use a friend or two your own age.” Betty purses her lips and tilts her head.
“Well sure, maybe. But you two know how focused I’ve been on growing my business. Half the time I’m running around this town and the next. I’m busy. I can barely carve out time to have tea with you two. I wouldn’t want to sacrifice that.” I joke, but internally I wonder if she’s right. I haven’t had too many friends in the last few years. I haven’t made the time. Yeah, I’m friendly with everyone and their mother in town, but since I graduated, I haven’t made an effort to spend time with anyone except my family. And of course, Betty and Hank.
“Live a little, Henry.” Hank shoots me a wink before pouring himself some more of the apple tea.
Both Betty and Hank used to call me Hammer, like everyone else in town, until I asked them one day if they would mind using my real name. The only thing Hank had to say was that I’d better not start calling him the same. He was mostly joking, but I hadn’t even known that we shared a first name before he said that. Other than that, they were both very cool about my request. They haven’t called me anything else since.
It’s a small thing, but it never ceases to make me smile.
“I live plenty,” I argue for no reason other than I don’t really know what else to say.
“You’re sitting here having tea with your elderly landlords, Henry. There’s more to life,” Betty advises me with a slow nod before turning a soft smile on her husband.
The look she gives him makes a knot form in my throat. Every once in a while, I’ll be sitting here watching them interact and think, wouldn’t it be nice?
“You’re not old.” Okay, they are old-er, but I don’t care. They’re great landlords and even better friends. “And she’s technically older than me too.”
“Oh. You skipped out on that small detail all those times you brought her up. And what do you mean, technically?” Betty finishes her own tea and pours herself some more, topping my cup off as well.
“Well, she is. She’s twenty-seven. Actually, she mentioned she was turning twenty-eight soon a few months ago, so that might have already happened.” I make a mental note to ask her the next time we see each other.
“That’s only a few years older. That’s nothing.” Hank waves a dismissive hand with a laugh.
Picking my tea up again, I savor the slightly sweet flavor of apple and the subtle warmth sliding down my throat. Betty and Hank have always treated me like an adult, expecting more from me than even my parents sometimes.
They don’t put unreachable expectations on me, but they believe I can do whatever I want if I put my mind to it. They believe I’m not just the youngest Wright. They don’t see the shadow that’s been over me since I was born.
It’s not my parents’ fault, or my siblings, really. I don’t think that they even realize they do it, but I find myself constantly trying to fade into the background to avoid comments that stick to me like sap.
“Are you sure you can handle that kind of workload?”
“Be serious, Hammer. That’s a steep goal.”
“Why don’t you come work for the business? Working for yourself is a lot to handle.”
“What is it that you even do all day?”
I know none of them mean any harm, I do. They’re my family, and they love me. But fuck if it doesn’t hurt, regardless.
“All right, enough about me. Give me the gossip. What’s new at the diner?” I steer the conversation back to a more normal topic; town gossip. I let a ridiculous anecdote about the kitchen staff at Daisy’s distract me from thinking about the girl from Boston.
It works for all of three and a half minutes.