Page 26 of The Man Upstairs

“Even if it tastes like garbage?”

She laughed as I flicked the kettle on.

“It doesn’t!”

I laughed back. “If you really believe that that is good toast, then I’m going to have to re-educate you. Your bar is way too low.”

For a moment I felt a strange flicker of something I’d long since forgotten.Fun. The sparkle in her eyes was alive, and her giggle was addictive.

“Another slice?” I asked.

“Yes, please.”

I didn’t feel the need to hide the teabags from her this time. She would already be well aware of how budget they were. I dumped in an unhealthy amount of sugar and a splash of milk and handed her cup over.

“You really are being spoiled this morning, Rosie.”

“Joke all you want,” she said as I buttered a fresh slice of toast. “But thisisbeing spoiled for me. I could count the times I’ve had breakfast made for me on one hand.”

“Even when you were a child? Surely you were graced with morning toast back then?”

She dropped her eyes. “Mum worked late shifts. She was usually in bed. I made myself cereals mostly. So many times I ended up sweeping them up with a dustpan! I was so clumsy I’d drop the box all over the floor.”

“Tiny hands couldn’t handle it?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Luckily they got bigger, and my accidents got smaller. I used to have to stand on a chair to reach the box from the cupboard when I was in primary school, but I got taller. Eventually.”

On seeing the sweet, genuine look on her face, I was assaulted by another weird flicker. The need to provide. I wished I had an orange juice to offer as she finished up her tea, which seemed to be a strange thought to have, but there you go.

“I should get ready,” she said, and I checked the time on the oven clock.

“Yes, you should.”

She brushed off her crumbs in the kitchen bin and turned on the tap to wash up her plate, but I took it from her.

“No, no,” I said. “I’ll clear up. You get dressed.”

No arms folded across her chest this time. I couldn’t help but see the points of her nipples.

She stood there for ever before giving me anotherthank you.

I turned away, glad that I’d done so first, cursing my swelling dick. And I didn’t know quite how to react when she re-appeared ready to leave for work a few minutes later, with her cap on her head and her tattered pink bag on her shoulder. Neither did she, it seemed. We both stood, staring, neither of us quite sure what to say.

The deviant part of me still wanted to tear her clothes off. The protective part of me wanted to drive her down to work like a parent dropping their child off at school.

“I’d better go,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“I guess I’ll see you around. Maybe I’ll drop in that pizza sometime.”

I laughed an empty laugh. “Yes. Stuffed crust please.”

She’d reached the front door when I called her back.

“Rosie, wait.”

She did wait. Eagerly.