Chapter 12 Don’t Do This
Is that a knock? A tap of Av?’s cane? An alpaca banging its head against my headboard?
I groaned and managed to half-open my eyes. It was still a little dark in my room, and a quick glance at my bedside clock confirmed my suspicion of it being too early for my lazy ass to be waking up.
Another tap, followed by a scraping sound.
I sat up and looked around, and when I found nothing out of the ordinary – not even the alpaca I’d wished for, which is a shame – I glanced to the left.
I shouldn’t have done that, because right outside my damn window, standing on a silver ladder wearing a Blackhawks beanie and an ivory fisherman’s sweater, was Myles.
Why in the hell did he have to look so fucking cute at such an ungodly hour?! This wasn’t fair to me. AT ALL.
There was a screw pressed between his teeth, and a marker tucked behind his right ear. He had a wireless drill machine in one hand, and it took me a few long seconds to realize what it is exactly that he was doing.
I stood, grabbed a spare notebook and pen from my nightstand, and marched over to the window before opening it with a resounding bang.
Myles looked up, a bit startled, and then pulled the screw out of his mouth. “I’m sorry I woke you,” he said casually – like he couldn’t see the warring emotions on my face. “I was trying to be as quiet as I could, but aluminum can be a bit tricky to work with, so it got a bit noisy.”
Almost two weeks of absolutely nothing, and now he wanted to talk metal to me?! Was he serious?
I clicked open my pen and began writing in the notebook.
What’re you doing?
He read it, and then shifted his weight on the ladder.
This close, I could see the stark flush on his cheeks and nose, and tiny flakes of snow on both his day-old stubble and dark lashes.
He was beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but that very thing was frustrating me beyond measure because I couldn’t just reach out and touch him, nor ask him to touch me.
“You wanted my help with the food tray, remember?” His voice pulled me out of my train of thought.
When I blinked at him, he continued. “It took me a while to come up with the idea, but I think this’ll do just fine.
” He jerked his head forward, and I noticed, for the first time, that he had attached a roof a few inches above the tray, along with two aluminum sections on either side of it.
“I thought that covering the tray from three sides would not only help keep the food safe, but also turn the area into a refuge for birds who need a place to sleep in,” he said.
“Aluminum can get very cold during winters, though, so I was thinking maybe I could screw pieces of wood plies over or under them.” He scratched his jaw.
“But wood might not do well against the brick wall. It prolly won’t give a neat finish, but I’m still working on the whole thing, so we’ll see.
” He knocked on the roof then. “This has a door as well.” He flipped said door upwards.
“See? You can easily clean the tray this way, and also replace food and water without a hassle.”
The whole time he was talking – explaining – I kept staring at him in awe.
He’d thought of everything, and had even come in hours before his daily schedule just to work on the food area.
I swallowed when he exhaled a long puff of air, and then quickly scribbled a few words in the notebook as the snow outside grew thicker.
You shouldn’t be out for so long. It’s freezing like the devil’s balls outside.
His lips twitched as he read what I’d written. “I’m heading over to the office in a few. Taron and I have a client coming over in about forty minutes.”
Okay.
What else could I say to that? It was awkward small-talk at its best, and it was making me itchy all over.
Myles sighed, and I saw the struggle on his face as he looked at me.
Stop resisting, I wanted to tell him. Just stop, and fucking tell me what’s making you pull back so earnestly.
But instead, I put the tip of my pen on the almost-full page and wrote:
How much will the whole roof thing cost? I’ll make a note of it now so that I don’t forget about it later.
He shook his head after reading that. “I’m not going to charge you for this; it’s for a good cause.”
You have to.
“I don’t want to.”
Don’t do this.
He shook his head again. “I’m not going to take money for this, Carina, and that’s final.”
Carina, not Rina.
I tried not to let that little change affect me, but God, it did. It really did.
I closed the notebook and moved away from the window. I had to create some distance between us, otherwise he’d see the mist forming over my blurring gaze, or even sense the pain before I could hide it.
I wasn’t sure if I could, but I’d try.
I also wasn’t sure why I was still this affected by him, when nothing had even happened between us to begin with. I guess it was my stubbornness that was making things difficult for me. He’d clearly moved on from that slight slipup two weeks ago. It was I who had to do the same now.
I sniffed to rid myself of the tingling in my nose, and then dropped the pen and notebook on top of one of my bookshelves.
Thank you, I quickly signed at him, and then turned around before making a beeline for the shower.
He was made of dreams, and made of meadows. He looked so sweet, and yet he hurt so deep.