“Hmm, how about chicken fettuccine alfredo with garlic bread, and something chocolaty for the movie?”
He smirked. “Comfort food and carbs, huh?”
I refused to feel bad for my carb-laden food order. I shrugged. “I eat like this all the time.”
“Like a teenager who’s been given a recent emancipation from parents?”
I laughed. “Speaking of teenagers, this feels very teenage-esque. You doing my nails, us watching a movie.”
He looked up at me, his boysenberry eyes serious. “Did you get to do things like this when you were a teenager?”
His eyes held mine, and I found it hard to look away. “I, umm, I worked a lot when I was a teenager. I didn’t really have time for friends.” I didn’t want to bother explaining that I’d tried to make friends, but couldn’t hack the feeling of intense nausea being around non-supernaturals gave me, and the chaotic whirlwind that caused me so much anxiety.
His head canted to one side. “Am I your first friend?”
I was extremely embarrassed and didn’t want to answer. Before I could decide on an evasive answer, he smacked me with the flat of the nail file again. “No prevaricating!”
“I was going to be vague,” I said indignantly, and then sighed. “Yep, my first friend is a geezer. How lame does that make me?”
He scowled at me. “It makes you amazing, considering I don’t have friends either.”
My mouth fell open. “What?”
He finished my nails and started cleaning up. “I have associates, business and personal. In my long life, I’ve only had a few friends.”
I wanted to hug him, but restrained myself. He wasn’t looking for sympathy; he was just being factual.
“What about Draven?”
“What about him?”
“Come on! You shower here!”
He dumped the trash and put the rest of the nail stuff in a container and then shoved it under the bathroom sink. “I’m on the PNW council with him. He feels sorry for me, I think.”
I doubted that. Draven didn’t seem the type. He probably was making overtures because he was comfortable with Rhys, but Geezer was only willing to let him in so much. Hmm, I felt like Dr. Phil as I analyzed my new friend. What pain had he gone through to make him leery of friendships? And why was I different? The random thought that an empath might be like catnip to supernaturals almost made me laugh out loud. “So, you’re a vagrant?”
He scowled at me. “I have a shower at my club. It’s just stuffy, is the size of a shoebox, and smells like onion rings.”
I soooo wanted to ask why it smelled like onion rings, but felt like that would get things too wildly off track. “Do you not have a home?”
“I don’t need one. There’s a couch in my office at the club and a shower. I’ve been using all the income generated to keep my business in the black.”
I shook my head. On the one hand, I was amazed at his dedication and business acumen, but on the other, I felt terrible that I had kicked him out of my shower earlier.
“Geezer, if you’re using other people’s showers,” here I glared at him, “and you don’t look like you’re sleeping very well, then maybe it’s time to get a rental? There are shadows under your eyes.”
He sighed, picking at the lint on his tee shirt. “I hate house hunting.”
“Okay, well, what about an apartment, or a townhome?”
“Maybe a townhome. They have some over on Schooner that look nice. They have wood-burning fireplaces, and a pool. And some of them are ocean front.”
I stole his phone and sent myself a text so I had his number. “Text me this week with a time, and I’ll come with you. No one should have to go house hunting alone.”
His silver eyebrows winged upward. “I’m a big elf, fully grown and everything. I can do it on my own.”
Wow, he really did push away friendly overtures. “Text me.” I growled at him, narrowing my eyes. It was odd to me that I was so protective of this elf this quickly. But I didn’t want him to be lonely while looking for a place to live. He was already doing this on my recommendation. The least I could do was keep him company.
