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Like we were an item.
Christ.
Yeah.
Getting out of the apartment was probably the best for everyone involved. Being trapped together was giving me all sorts of fucked up ideas.
I mean, I didn’t even remember the last time I had a woman at my place. Hell, actually, I didn’t think I’d ever had one at this particular apartment. And I damn sure never had a woman stay more than a night. If that.
I wouldn’t have even thought I’d be okay with it until, suddenly, there was Millie.
With her little messes. And her cinnamon sugar scent. And her way of cocking her head and shooting me a bemused smirk when I knew I was kind of being a dick.
“What are you in the mood for?” I asked.
“I imagine you know the best restaurants. You pick. Obviously something kind of casual,” she said, waving toward her stack of clean clothes on the cabinet under the TV. “I don’t have fancy clothes.”
Casual was good.
Casual would help stop blurring these lines.
“Alright. I’ll be back,” I said, turning and making my way out of the apartment.
To go buy her a new fucking outfit.
Because I seemed determined to fuck up an already complicated situation.
I mean, I’d yet to even ask her about the attack, about why she was in the woods. Yet I was treating her like a damn girlfriend.
“What’s this?” Millie asked an hour later as I came in holding a garment bag.
“Something to wear,” I said. “The best places aren’t exactly casual,” I told her.
She moved toward me, her bruises fully covered, but she hadn’t put anything else on yet. She reached to undo the zipper to reveal the gray-blue dress I’d picked out, thinking it would look good with her eyes.
“I sized it up a little because you might want to wrap your ribs, since this’ll be the most moving around you’ve done since before you got hurt.”
“Smart thinking,” she said. “If I’m wearing a dress, does that mean you’re gonna wear a suit?” she asked, eyes all sparkling.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Oh, no reason,” she said in the fakest fucking voice possible as she took the garment bag, then the rest of her cosmetics, and moved into the bathroom.
__
I’d just finished slipping in my cufflinks when I heard her calling me from the bathroom.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, standing outside of the door.
“I need help,” she said.
“Help with what?” I asked, sliding open the door.
To immediately feel like she’d knocked the fucking wind out of me.
Because there she was.
In goddamn pink panties.
