Page 26 of True Sight (Nat. 20, #4)

I nod, unable to form words. Reluctantly pulling my hand from his, we work in silence to clean up the mess.

Remembering that I’d seen a torch in one of the kitchen drawers, I stand to grab it and flick it on so we can see a little better.

Once my spoiled tea is no longer, we head towards my bedroom.

“Oh super, neon colors and short shorts. My favorites,” he grunts when I open the drawer and he sees what’s inside.

“Aww, now come on. I look cute in these,” I tease, pulling a pair of my shortest shorts from my closet and holding them out in front of me. And you would look cute in them, too, so cute I don’t think I’d be able to handle it , I think to myself.

“Please for love of all good things, tell me you have something else I can wear?” He had set the torch up on top of the dresser in such a way that the light fills the space as well as it can. In the dim light, I can see that he looks physically pained at the thought of having to wear my shorts.

“ Fine , you can borrow these.” I toss him a pair of old sweats I like to wear on days I don’t plan on leaving the house as well as a sweatshirt. He looks at me hesitantly for a moment and then glances down at the clothes with another shy smile that makes my heart stop.

“Erm, bathroom?” he asks, shyly looking around the room.

“Oh! Right, you want to change and probably not in front of me. Sorry, right this way.” I shuffle around him and quickly squeeze my eyes together.

How can I just stand there and wait for him to undress?

He’s going to think I’m a disgusting creep.

We step out of my bedroom and I hold out my arm to show him where the bathroom is.

He dips inside but pauses when he sees my makeshift safe room that I hadn’t cleaned up.

“Is this where you were? When I got here?” He tips his chin to the side and glances between me and the abandoned pillows and blankets.

I chuckle nervously. “Uh, yeah. Like I told you, I’ve been known to hide in a tub or two during a big storm.” His face falls in sadness for a second and for a moment I think he’s going to come and hug me again. I want him to come and hug me again.

“Well next time there’s a big storm, I’ll come over before it starts so you don’t have to hide, how’s that?” he says instead.

“That sounds fantastic.” I nod before turning away so he can change.

He swings the door shut but not enough for it to close entirely.

In the kitchen, I start to fumble around with things to look busy but my eyes are locked on the small sliver of space between the door and the frame.

What little light is coming in from the windows matched with the glare of the torch, I can see just enough of him as he strips out of his wet clothes.

Pulling his soaking wet shirt over his head, I watch as the muscles of his torso stretch and move with him.

There isn’t proper lighting for me to see everything I wish I could, but it’s enough.

For a guy who doesn’t work out, he has the muscle definition and build like he does.

As he starts to step out of his jeans, I lean further over the kitchen counter with the hopes of catching a peek of something I should definitely not be trying to catch a peek of when Annie barks and startles me into my next lifetime.

“Oh, Annie, you gave me a fright,” I pant, clutching my hand to my chest. When I glance back towards the bathroom, the door is closed entirely and my free show is over.

I glare back at the dog. “Thanks a lot, you little traitor. Now come here and let me dry you off.”

A few minutes later, I settle myself on the sofa along with Annie who’s doing fine work at finishing the drying job I’d given her with one of my kitchen towels.

Hearing his feet padding across the floor, I turn to look at him and can’t help but smile.

I like the way he looks in my clothes. His ashy blond hair looks darker since it’s wet and the joggers I lent him are doing something to his legs that I never want to stop.

He looks comfortable, which is an odd but welcoming thing to see from him.

“Who’s your friend?” He waves a hand towards Annie who’s licking herself as if her life depends on it.

“Oh, you know, just some chick I picked up off the street,” I tease, winking at him.

“I didn’t think you were one to bring chicks home,” he says coyly.

“I’m not, are you?” I bite back before I can consider what I’m asking.

He takes a seat in the chair across from the sofa and bites his bottom lip before releasing a strained chuckle. “My personal life is really none of your business.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.” The words tumble out of me quickly as I try to recover from my flub. “Here, you must be starving, let me see if there’s anything here we can eat without having to heat it up.”

I stand and head for the kitchen. Halfway across the room, he calls out to me.

“But I’m not.” I stop mid-step and feel my heart fall out of my arse.

Did he just admit what I think he admitted?

“The kind to bring chicks home. That’s something my friend Malcolm would do, did do, for a long time.

Not anymore though since he’s met his current girlfriend.

For once he’s with someone who has a bigger sex drive than he does so they balance one another out. ”

I slowly turn to look at him. When he notices, he lifts his head from where he was speaking to the floor and looks at me.

“I prefer to get to know someone before bringing them home with me.”

“I see.” My head nods slowly and it feels like I’m swallowing something sharp. Is he telling me he’s into women or into me? Or something else entirely? This stupid boy and his stupid mixed signals. I have pretty poor handwriting but even I can’t read the signs he’s sending me.

“Can I help you with the food?” He stands from the chair and waits for me to respond.

“S–sure,” I mutter, trying to find my voice again. I give him a tight smile and turn away again. Once in the kitchen, I start to pull out some candles I have stashed away under the counter and set them out. Then, I grab the box of matches from another drawer.

“Here, let me.” His hand covers mine as he takes the box of matches, holding it around mine for a second longer than I think I can survive. Then he carefully and meticulously lights each of the candles before placing them strategically around the kitchen to give us the best lighting possible.

“Note to self, buy some battery powered lanterns or something.” I laugh, looking around the dimly lit kitchen.

“Might be a little better than the candles,” he mutters.

“Okay, so,” I say a little more perky than necessary in an attempt to dissipate the awkward energy in the room.

“The larder is over there, go ahead and search for whatever might be edible without having to be heated up since we clearly can’t do that.

” His eyes follow where my fingers are pointing and then looks back at me.

“ Larder ?”

“Yes, larder?” And then it dawns on me. “The pantry.”

“Why would you call it a ‘larder’?” He sounds truly disgusted by the word as he walks towards the closet and starts to pull things out.

“Because the person who came up with the word in the first place knew it would irritate you specifically, love,” I quip back, pulling some fruit and cold cuts from the fridge. Thank god I went to the store yesterday or we’d have nothing to eat.

“Alright, here’s what I found.” I turn to look at him and notice he has some bread, biscuits, a jar of jam, and cereal.

“Good job, mate. Here, we can make a snack board of sorts with what I found.” I move to step around him to grab a large serving tray I know I have at the same time he steps in the same direction to get around me.

As we move, we collide into one another and grab onto one another to avoid falling to the floor.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re fine.”

We both speak at the same time and catch our balance. His arms are around me and I’m holding tight to his. Neither of us move and instead hold one another’s gaze in stunning silence. He blinks a few times, his hands tightening on my back and swallows hard.

“I’m going to go this way.” He nods to the left.

“And I’ll go the other.” We nod in sync and step around one another. When he’s behind me, I adjust myself quickly and thank this wretched storm for knocking out the power so he can’t see my growing situation.

Once we have our food and some drinks, we head to the living room.

Annie has fallen asleep on the armchair so the only place for us to go is the sofa.

Sitting down next to one another, I set the food on the table in front of us.

Building my own type of sandwich with what we’ve collected, I pop it into my mouth and moan.

I didn’t realize how hungry I was in the mess of the evening and the taste of cheese and jam has my insides buzzing.

When I look, he’s staring at me with his mouth slightly ajar.

“Here, eat.” I wave a hand at him and smile. He leans over and takes a few pieces of our makeshift charcuterie board and eats.

“So, what’s the deal with storms?” he asks, leaning back. The storm outside is still raging on and with the sun down, it is completely black outside. If it weren’t for the candles we lit and the torch we have propped up, we would be speaking to one another in the dark.

“Deal about what?” I ask, moving so that I am sitting with one leg bent under me and facing him. I prop my head up on my hand.

“Why do they freak you out so much? My therapist would say there’s some sort of trauma tied to that, but she says that about everything. I’m pretty sure ‘trauma’ is her favorite word.”

I chuckle lightly. “I feel like that’s therapists in general, not just yours.” I take another bite of my meal. “I love that you go—to therapy, I mean. I don’t think enough men do. I think it’s really great that you’re going.”