“What’s this space?”
He looks over at me. “It’s a private bathroom for this office.”
Must be nice. I stroll back into the office with him and walk over to the edge, looking out over the undeveloped land and green in the distance.
“Nice view.” I smile and flip my hair, spinning around in my pretend office like I own the place. “Yes, Christopher, would you please get Japan on the line? We need to discuss the production line in Malaysia,” I play.
He chuckles. “You have a male secretary?”
“A man can be anything,” I retort. “Don’t let your sex hold you back.”
He shakes his head at me, amusement curling his lips.
We settle into the ease we had the other night when we watched TV and ate pizza, and I follow him around the building, letting him explain the months to possibly year-long process of erecting a building from the ground up. He started doing this work before Cole was born and eventually formed his own company, able to make his own rules and have more control over the types of projects he takes on. It has to be a lot of responsibility, though, knowing you’re in charge of two dozen workers and the paychecks that support their families.
But still…he’s helping to grow our town, bringing work in, and getting jobs himself.
“You must be so proud to build things you get to see every day,” I tell him when we’re back down on the first floor. “Places where people will spend their lives and earn their livelihoods.”
“I never really thought about it like that.” He stops at the rear of the building, looking out at the acres of empty space beyond. “It’s my livelihood, too, I guess.”
I look out and notice an outdoor space attached to the back of the building. It’s large, and I can already see a marble fountain haphazardly placed for later setup.
“Is this going to be a courtyard?” I inquire, noting there’s no roof. “That’s a nice idea. Do you build that, too?”
“Oh, no,” he replies. “A landscaping company will come when the building is nearly complete and take care of planting the grass, trees, and installing the aesthetics.”
Right up my alley. I love the before and after, seeing an outdoor space transform.
“I’ll let you know when they start,” he offers as if reading my mind. “You can pop in every now and then to see the progress.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
I’d like that, actually. Aside from my teachers, no one else I know really enjoys stuff like this. Our eyes meet, and I realize that’s something I’ve been missing. I don’t have a lot in common with the other people in my life, do I?
We’re locked on each other but only for a moment. A worker passes by, carrying lumber over his shoulder, and Pike suddenly straightens, breaking contact with me and nodding a ‘hello’ to him.
“Well, I should…” I jerk my thumb behind me, “get going, I guess.”
“Yeah,” he answers. “Me, too.”
I back away. “See you at home. I’ll have dinner ready by five.”
He just nods and turns back to his work.
Home. Not the house? It’s not my home, after all.
I walk back to the car and climb in, feeling more out of sorts than when I came here. Dinner by five? Cole doesn’t get off until six. Did I suddenly just forget he exists?
I wrap the towel around my body and gather up my dirty clothes, the bathroom still thick with steam. Cracking open the door, I peek into the hallway to make sure it’s clear, and dash across to my bedroom, closing my door behind me.
I keep forgetting to take clean clothes in with me, so I can get dressed right after my shower. I’m still used to having my own place and not caring if I crossed the hallway in my towel. At least I’m remembering to put on pajama shorts if I go downstairs for water in the middle of the night. Doubt I wouldn’t die of embarrassment if Cole’s dad caught me in my underwear and T-shirt.
Taking my brush, I comb out my wet hair and pick out something to wear to bed. I see a glow from outside and walk over to the blinds, peering through a crack. It’s dark out—after nine by now—but Pike is still at it, in the driveway, working on my VW.
He’s pretty awesome. Cole’s been busy on everyone else’s car but mine, although I suspect it’s just an excuse for him to get out of the house.
A bright shop light hangs from my propped-up hood, and Pike circles the VW and leans over, unscrewing something. He’s been out there since after dinner. He wanted Cole’s help, but of course, he’s out again. I think he’s waiting for him.
A couple of women walk down the sidewalk, dressed in workout clothes, and stop, smiling and calling out something to Pike.
The brunette on the left jogs in place, even though she was just speed-walking a moment ago, while the redhead puts her hands on her hips and gives him a flirty smile.
“Seriously?” I mumble. Who the hell goes walking this time of night? “Smooth, ladies. Real smooth.”
Like they didn’t see Pike out here working through their kitchen windows, shirtless with muscles flexing against his tanned skin, still looking every inch the bad boy hottie they drooled over in high school, probably. Then they gave each other a call up to hatch a plan to don their active wear and ‘just happen to jog past his place’, right? I mean, it would be rude, after all, not to say hi, right?
I roll my eyes. Suburban housewives, bored with their husbands, looking to stir up shit like Pike Lawson is a pit stop to be used to excite them.
I release the blinds and back away.
I’m being so mean.
So, they’re flirting. So, what?
I’ve taken pride in the fact that I’m a pretty level-headed, calm person, but my behavior has been erratic lately. The move, the bills, Cole… I’m out of sorts, uncertain, and all over the place. I don’t like it.
I start a playlist on my phone, Pity Party droning out to match my pissy mood as the bedroom door clicks shut behind me. I stop brushing my hair, turning my head.
Cole is suddenly standing in the room, leaning against the door, and staring at me with a look in his eyes I know all too well. When did he get home?
Heat rises to my skin, and I clutch my towel, but I don’t know why.
He crosses his arms over his chest as his eyes scale down my body and back up.
“What?” I ask when he says nothing.
“Drop the towel.”
Now? But his father is still awake, and...
“Come on,” I protest but try to keep my tone light and calm. “It’s getting late, and I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll get you in the mood.” He pushes off the door and moves toward me, his six feet easily crowding the small bedroom. “I never see you anymore. I miss you.”
He steps up and wraps his arms around my waist, gazing down at me. I can’t help but smile a little.
I bite my bottom lip playfully and grip his soft blond hair on the top of his head, bringing him in for a quick kiss. “I was home last night,” I reply. “You weren’t.”
I pull away from him, and tighten my towel around me.
“I invited you out,” he points out.
“I was tired,” I say, but I can feel everything that’s been building inside of me for days about to bust free. “And I’ve had to do your chores, so...”
“I didn’t tell you to do that.”
“It had to get done.”
The desire I felt for him a moment ago has faded, and there’s a wall rising between us now.
But he tries to navigate around it anyway. “My dad’s not going to kick me out if I’m a couple days late mowing the lawn, Jordan,” he says, trying to put his arms around me again. “You take things too seriously.”
“No, you didn’t do it, because you knew I would.” I turn away. “As usual. You need to get it together and stop doing the bare minimum.”
He lets out a sigh and releases me, turning toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t listen to this right now,” he grits out. “You know why I’m always gone? Because of that.” He points at my face. “The way you look at me. I’m tired of not feeling good enough.”
“Oh, that’s awesome,” I shoot back sarcastically, grabbing a pair of his boxers out of a drawer and one of his flannel shirts off the chair. “I’m only here to be with you, and you’re always gone. You know, I spend more time with your dad! Don’t you think that’s a little awkward for him?”
“You got somewhere else to go, then go if you’re so uncomfortable.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I glare at him. “Are you serious? You’re actually saying that to me right now.”
I already feel like a pathetic freeloader when I’m not the one who got us evicted. I’ve always been there for him. We’re friends, dammit. We’ve always looked out for each other. I would never make him feel.... Son of a bitch.
I pull on the boxers and throw off the towel, pulling on the red and brown flannel shirt and buttoning it. Tears spring to my eyes.
My sister was right. I could’ve sucked it up for a few weeks, worked at The Hook, and been able to stay in my place. At least I wouldn’t feel like I’m not wanted.
He moves toward me again, his voice softer. “All I’m saying is it would be nice to put the stress behind us once in a while and show each other a little attention. I can’t remember the last time we had sex.”
And after the sex? Everything that’s wrong would still be wrong.
“Maybe if I weren’t doing all your shit around here and working until 2 a.m., I wouldn’t be so tired all the time,” I tell him. “And maybe if you were helping me save money, so we could get our own place again instead of drinking your paychecks away every damn night, I wouldn’t be so worried and stressed about money. I feel fucking alone. Where are you?”
He just shakes his head, and I can’t help the tears from welling. But I refuse to cry. We need to talk, and he won’t. He won’t give me the one thing that will fix this.