Chapter 25 That Hand Flex Feeling #2
"You shouldn't have brought me a gift--I didn't get you a thing. I'm going to have to bake you a hundred pies to make up for all the ways you've spoiled me."
"Nah," he says, his smile crooked and unassuming. "Sometimes I see stuff and think of you, that's all Mols. C'mere. You can open it."
I meet him around the front of the couch, and we have a seat, me sideways with my back against the arm. At the crinkling of tissue paper, Scout hops into Carlin's lap to see.
When I pull out the first bundle, it's with a little gasp.
"Homemade oatmeal cream pies?" I clutch them to my chest, smell them, and clutch them again.
He laughs, giving me a look. "You're such a freak for them.
Mama and I went to the farmer's market in Franklinville and a baker had these for sale.
I knew you'd smell them like that." I'm trying to undo the twisty tie when he takes it from me.
"There's more, keep going." He works it open for me as I dive back in.
Next bundle is a magnet with an ungloved Lizzie Bennet hand in Darcy's. Underneath it is a little plaque that says Still Thinking About The Hand Flex. I bust out laughing.
"Oh my god--you remembered!"
"You literally paused it and made me watch it three times." His smile softens when I pull out the photo--a selfie of us at The Horseshoe. "I noticed you don't have a lot of photos on your fridge. Thought you could use one. To go with the magnet and all."
"I love it," I say, holding them to my chest like I did the cream pies. "This is so thoughtful."
"There's one more thing," he prompts, scratching the back of his neck. He looks like he regrets getting it all for me, despite his smile.
When I dig around again, my hand appears with--"Pepper spray!" I laugh. "Everybody around here is awfully worried about crime considering the crime rate is less than one percent."
He chuckles. "It's your first time living alone. Just want you to feel safe."
"I love it."
"You love pepper spray?" he teases.
"I love these gifts. Thank you, Carlin." I lean over for a hug before bounding to the kitchen to put the picture of us on the fridge, laughing at the magnet again. "Wanna split a cream pie?"
"Hell yeah. You're lucky any are left--I almost ate them all myself."
I snag a couple of napkins and head back into the living room, dropping the pepper spray into my purse on the way. When I plop down next to him, he hands me the bag to choose which one I want. They smell incredible. I pick the fattest one and tear it in half, giving him one.
I hold my half up. "Cheers!"
He taps his to mine with a laugh, and we take our bites.
We both groan like animals. My eyes roll back in my head.
"Damn, I was right. I should have kept them all," he says before taking another huge bite.
"You really should have."
He laughs. "Man, I feel like I never see you anymore."
"I know. I've been so busy working on the house and stuff."
"Oh yeah, with Coach," he says, amused. "How's that going?"
"Terrible," I answer on a chuckle. "I had no idea how busted my cute little house is."
"Like, so busted. I wish I knew how to help. I can't fix shit."
"Me neither, but by the power of YouTube, I have hope."
"Let me know if you need extra hands, so long as Coach doesn't mind teaching me too."
"Group lessons. I love it."
"Hey, I'll take what I can get, since your schedule's so full these days. Maybe you and I can do a movie night or something," he suggests.
"Good idea. Maybe on a Tuesday or Thursday night?"
"Sounds good, but I get to pick. How about…Blue Eye Samurai? It's not a movie, it's an animated show, but more mainstream than, like, One Piece. Or Frieren? You'd love that one, very chill, pretty. You can get your toes wet with anime."
"It's a date," I say before realizing it might sound wrong. "Erm, you know--"
Amused, he says, "It's all good. Speaking of, is it a regular thing or does he show up when something breaks?"
I laugh. "Well, he found all this stuff that needed fixing that I had no idea was broken, so he doesn't have to wait for things to break--there's plenty to do.
You know the deal--I don't have money to pay him, so I've been cooking him dinner on the nights he's free.
It's a decent trade I figure after hearing about some supposedly gross burritos he eats for dinner every night. "
Carlin laughs. "Dude, they're so gross. So is he actually helpful or does he just eat your food?"
"You know Grey. He's somehow good at everything. Except making burritos that taste good I guess."
A chuckle, smaller this time. He asks delicately, "So are you two like…a thing?"
"We're just friends," I try to lie casually and take a bite of cream pie, avoiding his eyes.
He gives me another look, one corner of his lips rising. His voice is gentle, teasing. "Come on--I know you well enough that I know when you're bullshitting. You can tell me."
I hesitate, wanting to confide in him. In anybody, really.
Carlin softens. "Hey, I mean it. You can talk to me. Is…is everything okay? You're okay, right?"
"Oh! Yes, no, it's not that."
"Which one? Yes or no?"
"Yes, I'm fine," I assure him. "It's…complicated."
"Complicated how?" He shifts, angling toward me.
I blow out a breath through my lips. "I mean, he's way older than me."
"Like, so old."
I chuckle. "And I've never dated or anything, which has me on a pretty steep learning curve. But I'm figuring it out. We're keeping it casual."
"Casual." He repeats it like he's tasting the word.
"Casual," I echo cheerfully.
"But you're keeping it on the low? If it's casual, why hide it? Does he not want people to know?"
"Just trying to avoid the gossip. He's trying to protect me."
Something shifts behind his eyes, and then it's gone. "That's kind of…I don't know. I guess I don't get why he wouldn't give you the that much respect. You deserve somebody who's proud to be with you. Out in the open. You know?"
"Thanks," I offer weakly, glancing down at my cream pie. "Like I said, complicated. But he's a good guy."
"He is. One of the best. And you deserve the best, Molly. You know that, right?"
Something in his voice makes me look up at him. He's just…looking at me, warmly. Sincerely.
I flush, smiling. "Thanks, Carlin."
He holds my gaze for a just a beat longer than normal, breaking it with a smile. "Anytime, Mols. Anytime."
"So how about you? Seeing anybody? I heard Nurse Nancy's niece just moved to town. I also heard she's pretty hot."
He leans in, interested. "Oh, yeah? Maybe she'll come to The Horseshoe. Wanna be my winglady?"
"Uh, yes! I've always wanted to be a wing lady. I'll talk to Nancy at school tomorrow, see if I can't get myself an introduction. I'll bring her to the bar next time."
He laughs. "Should I brush up on my pickup lines?"
"Nah--just be yourself. She's gonna love you."
But he shakes his head, giving me another look. "If you say so."
So I do say so one more time, just so he knows I mean it.