“I knew you’re one of those,” he notessmugly.
“One of who?” I can’t even find energy to be mad at him for his very questionable tone.
“People who celebrate every holiday and decorate the shit out of their houses, filling the space with junk.”
How on earth did he manage to make a good thing sound so bad?
“Well, yes. I am. Life is too short to be prude and stuck-up.” I let my brow raise a little with a subtle hint about him being one of ‘those.’
“Touché,” he laughs. “Let’s go get them.”
We gather the vines and go back to the camp. I head to my shelter only to be stopped by his voice.
“Maeve.” He sounds annoyed. “Let’s not do that, okay?”
I whip around and rush to his shelter, rambling all the way. “I just wanted to be sure you’re not regretting inviting me to your place because now it might be awkward when you don’t want me there anymore, but kind of don’t have a choice because I’m already there. And you are there. And you know that when I’m?—”
“Stop.” He shushes me by pressing his finger to my lips. “You talk too much.”
My first reaction is to protest, and he knows it because he presses his finger a little harder.
“Too much, Maeve.”
I give him a short nod.
We should be moving on after a nod, but instead, my tongue decides to press for freedom through my lips and peeks outside. His finger is outside. I do a very quick lick, pull away, and rush to gather leaves for the shelter. His quiet and unmoving figure is making me give myself a few mental slaps—why did I decide to make it even more awkward?
When he finally snorts and starts moving, I hear myself producing a very loud exhale.Way to go, Maeve. Way to go.
While I’m decorating his bungalow, he brings wet mudand fixes a few cracks in the walls. He also adds palm leaves to the roof and walls, securing them with the vines we brought. He seems to be really enjoying working with his hands. Because, to me, the place already looks good. But he likes making it better. He likes getting his hands dirty. I swallow, watching him work. His arms move, making veins pop. His skin has gained some color, and he’s not nearly as translucent anymore. And it becomes him.
The more Ezra works, the better the place looks. I just wish it was a little bigger so both of us could sleep inside without touching each other. Even though I don’t mind him touching me with his legs, thighs, or other parts, it seemed to weird him out. The morning after we spent the night together in here, he refused to look at me all morning.
“I’m going to run to get some water.”
He pauses smacking the palm leaves and nods before returning back to work. His body is glistening with sweat, and not the fake kind models use to appear on billboards. This sweat comes from the hard work of making us feel secure. For a moment, I’m reminded why I left my family and decided to venture into my own life. Even though Ezra is clearly not a blue-collar guy, I wouldn’t say that right now. So I’m just left enjoying it however long it will last.
I make a few trips back to the shelter to fill out as many half coconuts as I can. Ezra had to replace a few because the old ones didn’t look so fresh anymore—the heat was getting to them.
By the time I’m done with the last run, Ezra has built some sort of curtain slash door to cover us from the side rain. I whistle, admiring his handiwork. He glances at me with a lopsided smile.
“What was that about?”
I shrug, suddenly embarrassed by my reaction. I’m alwaysloud and outspoken, but not to the point where I whistle seeing a dude work with his hands.
“You’ve made us a door,” I say, trying to save face.
“Oh, yeah.” He scratches the back of his head. “Figured if the wind hits from this side, we’re fucked.”
He said ‘fucked,’ and my brain got just that. Fucked. It’s scraped of all coherent thoughts, and now I’m just blinking, trying to remember what I asked. Or he asked. Or he said. All I know isfucked.
What is wrong with me? I’ve never been so horny. Is it the sun? It’s the sun. I glance up, finding the traitor peeking from behind a cloud. It knows it’s to blame for my hormones. I squint at it with a murderous look on my face.
“You’re really weird. You know that?” Ezra asks, not even trying to hide his amusement.
“I own it.” I shrug and look around. “It’s going to get dark soon. We should go get some food for the evening celebration and the morning after. I don’t like walking around on an empty stomach.”
“You and me both.”
