She blinks a few times before speaking in a croaky voice. “You stayed.”
“I...You asked me to.”
Her face softens. “I remember. I didn’t think you would.”
We stare at each other for a few more seconds, the tension and anticipation rising like the threat of lightning in the air.
Then DeeDee shrieks and looks down at herself.
“Câlice! I look like shit!”
She bolts into the bathroom and slams the door closed before I can protest, leaving me to once again wonder what the hell I’m supposed to do with myself.
When I hear the shower come on, I decide I can’t wait any longer for breakfast. My mother would be fainting away in shame at my lack of my manners if she could see me prowling around my host’s kitchen without their permission, but I figure DeeDee’s roommate already asked if I wanted food, so that should count as enough of an invitation. I slide two pieces of bread into the toaster and have time to slather them with peanut butter and head back to the couch before DeeDee emerges.
Her wet hair is up in a bun on the top of her head, and she’s cleared off all the makeup, leaving her face bare except for her nose ring. I love how much her freckles stand out when she doesn’t have makeup on. It makes me feel like I’m getting to know a secret side of her.
She sinks down onto the couch next to me, still in her pajamas, and snags a piece of toast off my plate.
“Hey!” I protest.
“I bought the bread,” she defends herself after swallowing a bite.
“Fair enough. I’m surprised your hangover hasn’t destroyed your appetite.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t get hung-over. Just hungry.”
“Then I guess we’ll be making more toast. There’s coffee if you want it. Your roommate made it.”
DeeDee pauses mid-bite. “Valérie was here?”
“Yeah. She said she had to get her work clothes.”
She looks around the living room like she’s assessing the scene Valérie must have walked in on.
“What did she say to you?”
“I think I was asleep when she showed up,” I explain. “Then she offered me breakfast and called me a strange boy.”
“Ha!” DeeDee lifts a hand to pat me on the head. “You are a strange boy.”
Her hand stills, but she doesn’t pull it away. She leaves it sitting there, fingers twining into my hair. Our eyes lock. I hold my breath, like a single exhale could break this moment.
“Zach...”
Don’t run. Don’t run from this again. I don’t know if I could take you running away again.
Her hand slides to my cheek. “I’m scared.”
I close my eyes and slowly let my breath out. “I know. Me too.”
I can smell the trace of flowery shampoo in her hair, smell the toothpaste on her breath.
“Is it supposed to be this scary?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. Her fingers are still cupping my cheek. “I think so?”
She lets out a shaky laugh. “Everyone keeps saying it’s supposed to be scary, and no one can tell me why.”
