And that’s how we end up watching an entire episode ofHow It’s Madeto learn all about the production of ice cream sandwiches. Of course, you can’t stop at just one episode ofHow It’s Made, especially when the sidebar has intriguing options like bowling balls and Lego. We’re deep into our binge and have each polished off another ice cream sandwich when I make the mistake of looking at the clock.
“Oh shit, it’s past four in the morning.”
“Whoa!” DeeDee sits up straighter on the couch, her eyes going wide. “You said shit!”
“I say shit all the time.”
She shakes her head. “No, you don’t. You hardly ever swear.”
“That is blatantly untrue.”
“Nuh uh.” She sinks back into the cushions. “You’re so innocent.”
I balk. “Innocent?”
You have no idea what I’ve thought about doing to you on this couch.
“I’m not innocent.”
She nudges my foot with hers. “Oh yeah? So prove it.”
The laptop continues playing footage of little Lego pieces popping out of a mold, but I can’t hear the narration about melting points and production speed anymore. All I’m aware of is the thumping in my chest and the way a piece of her hair is slipping into her face. She’s so close I wouldn’t even need to move over to tuck it behind her ear. I could let my knuckles trail down her neck, cup her jaw with my palm. I could pull her into my lap and prove anything she likes. I could taste her. I could finally,finallytaste her.
But that’s not what she came here for. She didn’t call me so I could have her calling out my name. She’s here because she feels safe, because her world was caving in beneath her feet and I’m the thing she grabbed onto to keep her standing.
People look at DeeDee and see something simple. They call her an open book and a good time, but I know she only ever lets them read the first chapter. She doesn’t trust easy, and if nothing else, I want to be someone she can trust with her whole story. If that makes me innocent, then I guess I’m as innocent as they come.
“I may regret offering this if she comes home unexpectedly and murders you in your sleep, but would you like to sleep in Paige’s room? She’s in Toronto all week for some DJ thing, and her bed will be way comfier than this couch.”
“I think I could beat Paige if she tried to kill me.”
I tilt my head.
“Okay, maybe not,” DeeDee amends, “but I’m still not scared to sleep in her room.”
The last thing I want to do is move away from her, but I get up off the couch.
“Do you want some fresh sheets?”
“Non, merci. Don’t worry about it.” She turns sheepish all of a sudden, springing up off the cushions and keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. “You must want to get to bed. It’s, uh, it’s really nice of you to let me stay. I know it is a lot.I’ma lot. I—”
“DeeDee.”
I cut her off when her voice starts to get thick, but she still doesn’t look up.
“Don’t worry about it. I mean it. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing.”
“I was...I was so scared.”
She pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her forehead on them. I slowly sit back down beside her, like she’s an animal that could take off running at any second.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask when she doesn’t move.
“It’s stupid.” Her voice is muffled by her legs.
“I don’t think it’s stupid. I don’t think anything about you is stupid.”
She sniffs. “You mean that?”
