Page 34

TWENTY-EIGHT

The sun was barely up when Walls opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Bandit. The cat was in loaf form on his chest. Walls himself was lying on the floor next to the couch. The blanket he’d covered Thorn with last night was now on him.

He looked to the kitchen, where Thorn was cooking something over the fireplace. He guessed eggs. But he didn’t say anything and just watched her.

Bandit shifted, and Walls scratched him behind his ears to keep him quiet for longer. Thorn moved on to making hot drinks. She touched the hot mug and yelped. Walls shot to his feet, much to Bandit’s protest. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes lit up at the sight of him. She put her burnt fingers to her earlobe. “I’m more than okay. Coffee, Walls?”

“Yes, please.” He made his way to her. His hair must be a messy bird’s nest. He combed it as best as he could with his fingers.

Thorn set down two mugs on the table, next to a plate of scrambled eggs. “I followed the instructions on the instant-coffee packet, but I think it came out a bit more bitter than it should have. It’s my first time making coffee.”

He took a sip. “This is how instant coffee is supposed to taste. You could add milk or sugar to taste. But if you like it, I can take you to great cafés with great coffee.”

She stared at her own coffee, chewing at her lower lip. Just when he thought maybe she found coffee vile, she smiled and said, “That’d be nice.”

But she sounded tired.

He took a seat at the table. “How long have you been up?”

“Not long.”

Bandit hopped onto Walls’s lap and headbutted his chest over and over. “Bandit’s being extra sweet today. He must be scheming something.”

“Probably world domination,” Thorn said.

“Hey, Bandit. How about I give you one of those treat packets a day and you spare the world?” he said, scratching the cat behind the ears.

Meow.

“Okay, okay, and a little bit of scrambled eggs twice a week.” After feeding Bandit from his plate, Walls took a bite himself, then noticed Thorn staring at him. “Is my bed hair that bad?”

“In this case, it’s timber-floor hair.” She didn’t take her eyes off him, even as she took another sip of coffee.

Even though he didn’t want to, he couldn’t help but look away.

He felt like a teenager with a silly crush.

Yesterday, he had been so nervous throughout their date, but he’d done a great job at keeping his cool.

Now, though, with her studying him so intently, he found it very hard not to fumble his words or trip over his own feet.

All he could do was buy himself time by chugging down his coffee.

But eventually, the drink was finished and he had to put the mug down. “Quit staring at me. I’m shy.”

“It’s your fault. I have to stare harder to picture what you look like under that beard.”

They both laughed.

“Thank you, Walls.”

“What for?”

“Everything.”

“You sound like you’re saying your last words.” He chuckled, but then he turned serious. “What you told me last night. Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “It’s in the past.”

He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “You know you can always talk to me, Thorn. Anytime. But if you’re more comfortable, I can help you find someone else to talk to. We have people just for that, to help you work through things. They’re called therapists.”

“Are they, like, friends?”

“Yes, but impartial ones who are paid and trained to help.”

“The twenty-first century really does have everything,” she said. But out of nowhere, she took a deep breath and let it go. “I’m sorry I ruined it, but thank you for yesterday’s date. It was the best one I’ve ever been on.”

“You didn’t ruin it, and you’re welcome.”

His phone alarm beeped. He quickly scooped the remaining eggs into his mouth. “Time to get ready for work. I have to go home and get changed first.”

Meow.

He placed Bandit gently on the ground. “Remember, no world dominion, Bandit. I’ll bring those tube packets when I come by after work. That is, if Thorn wants to see me this afternoon.”

She didn’t say anything, so he looked up at her.

She nodded and smiled.

She walked him to the door. He lingered for a second. He wanted to kiss her but thought it best not to. Whatever had happened last night, she probably needed time to process.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said, and continued to his car.

He was buckling himself in when she knocked on his window. “Yes?” he asked, rolling the window down.

She leaned in and kissed him on his cheek.

He turned into a stuttering mess. He might have said something about going to work.

Whatever he said, it made her laugh. And that, in turn, made him feel warm and tingly and helpless inside.

He had no choice but to quickly pull out of the driveway to prevent her seeing any more of him being a pickled cucumber.

As he drove away, he glanced at his rearview mirror. She was still standing in the driveway, watching him as if it were the last time.