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“You can’t cook, not even boil an egg?”
“No,” she said and thrust the papers at my chest, holding them there with the pen waiting for me to take them. My childishness surface and I refused, stuffing my hands in my pockets.
I had met no one who couldn’t cook. My family had plenty of money when I lived at home, but my mother still taught me to cook, clean, sew on a button, and be able to take care of myself.
“You’ve shocked me, how old are you?” I asked, then regretted it. I had no filter of what I should and shouldn’t ask. She removed her hand, letting the pen and papers fall to the floor. I bent down straight away to retrieve them, smacking my head against hers. She reeled back, holding her head in her hands, a muffled scream came from her throat.
“Fucking hell, that hurt,” she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. I came forward to grab her into a hug, she resisted and squirmed and then lay limp against my chest. Her arms were at her sides. I held her head, my hands cupping her warm cheeks that had a few stray tears. I laughed and then swallowed it. Even though she had a red eyelid, she could still glare like a champion.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you’d try to pick up the papers,” I said.
“You’re a real charmer, you know?”
“I am sorry Adaline, let me see that eye again,” I said, and I reached her cheek once more when she didn’t turn her face, I took a step near her again. She smelled of squeezed orange zest. It was a scent I now loved. Some of her blonde hair had escaped the clip at the back of her head, one side had come down. I pushed the strands behind her ear and took another look, I wanted to kiss her eyelid, hoping it would make it feel better. I was sure I’d get a slap. Stoking my thumb under her eyelid, she closed her eyes and sighed. A tear leaked from her eye, she was in pain.
“I have a headache. Can you leave me alone now?” She asked. Still her eyelids stayed closed, her breathing laboured. I didn’t want to leave her alone, she looked like she needed a cuddle.
“Why don’t I pop back later this evening, I could cook you dinner to celebrate me moving in?” I suggested.
Her eyes sprang open and then she winced. “Bloody hell, it’s bright in here, I need to lie down in my room. I like anything Italian, Spaghetti Bolognese or meatballs. But I warn you I there are no pots or pans in my kitchen.”
With that piece of information, she walked passed me and into the room opposite, closing the door. I took that as my invitation to leave. She allowed me to cook her dinner, it was the best news I could have hoped to hear. I hadn’t fucked up my chances. Cooking was my super power, this was the way to her heart.
Adaline
I waited until I could no longer hear his footsteps. My heart was pounding, desperately wanting to leave the cavity of my chest. As soon as I closed the door, I staggered to my bed and lowered my body to sit on the edge. My head pounded, my eye closing with the swelling but I didn’t care. He hadn’t been put off by my boiling hot mug test. Callum had turned my head inside out. As soon as I looked at him, I felt the connection. It was if I had known him for years, his familiar smile and protective nature. He was gorgeous. I couldn’t take my eyes off his thighs. They were encased in baggy long khaki shorts, but I saw they were firm and muscular. It wasn’t until he manhandled me to the sink that I felt the strength in his arms. I could have stayed there all day, I felt safe.
I needed to remember that I’m his landlady and I don’t fuck the tenants. Although I would break the rule for him.
The flat was silent. Even though I knew Callum had left, I still peered around the bedroom door to see if the coast was clear. Tiptoeing through the living room and out onto the veranda, I then relaxed. I’d already arranged with the skip company to fix up a chute straight to the ground. While I was in two minds about having Callum around, I didn’t want him to move into a shit tip. After a quick phone call to my hairdresser to rearrange the appointment, I changed into loose clothing.
The next four hours involved moving all the broken furniture out of the flat and throwing it down into the skip. Next, I made makeshift cupboard doors, using the cardboard from my old packing boxes and masking tape. Each cupboard in the kitchen now had a door, and there wasn’t any broken furniture to see in Callum’s flat. The walls needed a coat of paint and the carpets replaced. I had already bought the paint for the walls and skirting boards. Making a carpet of cardboard on his side of the balcony, I placed all the pots of paint, emulsion, and gloss in a row. I’d wash down the walls.
My phone vibrated in my pocket just as I was finishing the hallway walls with the fancy liquid the paint shop had sold me. Looking at the screen, I could see Callum’s ridiculous grin beaming up at me. Pressing the decline button, I held the phone with my stained and bandaged hand.
Me:Hello?
I sent him a text once he’d hung up.
Callum:You know it’s me, why aren’t you answering your phone?
Me:My hand hurts to hold the phone, and the other is covered in paint. What do you want?
Callum:For you to let me in, it’s quite shocking for a landlady to take a tenant’s money and not give him keys.
Ah hell, I’d forgotten that bit, I also looked a mess. Hard luck if Callum wanted to be let into the shop. I raced down the stairs to the front door. When I opened it wide, he stood before me with several shopping bags in each hand. I tried to take a few, but he backed away, and shook his head, muttering something I couldn’t quite hear. I held the door open.
“Lock the door,” he said as he passed me. “Not that it means much, a child could shove their shoulder against it and get in here. I’ll get that fixed first.” He said while he watched me close and bolt the door.
It irritated me that I could hear almost every word he said when he was close to my ear. I preferred being oblivious, but his voice was deep enough that I heard his disapproval of my security.
“This door has served me well,” I said.
I checked the door after Callum headed upstairs. Following him up, I tried not to check out his arse. He’d changed into arse hugging dark blue jeans and a navy t-shirt. He smelled of a fresh laundry and a hot shower.
Callum waited at my front door waiting for me to catch up with him. I'd left the door on the latch to answer the door to Callum.
“You should learn to lock your door, you need to take care.”
