She thinks she’s overstayed? The more I talk to her, the more I’m praying the snow keeps coming, giving me a little more time with her before I need to let her go for good and figure my shit out. The weight of my inescapable future doesn’t feel as all-consuming after talking to her. I assumed she would be judgemental, but she just… listened. I don’t know that I’ve ever had someone pay me that kind of attention. It’s simply who she is. I saw her at brunch, making sure everyone felt seen, includingme in the conversation, the way everyone who walks through the café door falls in love with her.
She’s someone I could become addicted to.
I shake off the thought, reminding myself that she doesn’t need a boyfriend ten years her senior who’s having an early mid-life crisis. She needs someone fun. Someone who will go on adventures with her and grow with her, not some idiot who’s stuck in his ways. But until the weather clears, I get her all to myself.
“You know you’re more than welcome here, sunshine. Why don’t I throw in another one of those frozen pizzas and you can pick a movie or something?”
“Ugh, I don’t think I have the attention span for a movie. What about a card game?”
“A card game?”
“Yes, are you losing your hearing too? Apparently, that’s one of the first things to go in old age.”
“Watch it,” I growl half-heartedly with my head halfway in my freezer. “Cards are in the hall closet.”
I hear her shuffle around as I fiddle with my oven and grab us some more drinks from the fridge. When I get back to the table, she’s laid out Skip-Bo, one of the few card games I own.
She looks so at home at my dining room table, like I can picture a whole future that starts with her at that table. With me.
Probably irritating the shit out of me.
“Why are you smiling?” I pull myself out of my own head to focus on the gorgeous woman in front of me. Really look at her. The way her honey-coloured hair sweeps over her shoulder, blue eyes clear and sweet, unruined by life’s disappointments. The way my clothes drape her slim frame, barely grazing over curves and dips I’m aching to explore again.
“Nothing. Alright, you dealt. I get to go first.”
She kicked my ass.
Several rounds later, after as many hours, I can’t wrap my head around how she wins every time. I’ve been dealt good cards, I have a strategy, and she still manages to pummel me into the ground.
“I win again!” she says, giggling and throwing the last of her cards down. Her brightness is blinding, like she’s lit from the inside, spilling joy everywhere. It’s not the first time I’ve seen it, it’s a jovialness she seems to bring with her no matter where she goes.
I can’t let it get to me, though.
“Alright, that’s it. I’m done.” I push away from the table, littered in beer cans, chip bags, and pizza crusts. This tiny little thing next to me ate nearly as much as I did, and I have almost a foot of height on her.
“Oh, come on, James! Don’t be a sore loser!” she calls after me. I’m not a sore loser. I’m annoyed. No one likes to lose, especially in their own house. In front of a beautiful woman. How did she beat me? Did she cheat? I’ll bet she rigged the cards when she dealt them. I did go to the bathroom that one time… that has to be it. That’s the only explanation for why—
Oh shit, I am a sore loser.
I quickly chuck the trash and move to the couch, pushing that thought out of my mind, and grabbing the remote. She said she didn’t want to watch a movie. That’s fine. She doesn’t have to.
This is my apartment, I’ll watch what I want,I think to myself in a huff, flipping through options. I hover over my favourite show, debating putting it on. I normally watch by myself, but something tells me she won’t care either way.
The voice of Lady Whistledown fills the space as Stella joins me, sitting far closer than she was before. She wraps herself in the deep green throw blanket on the back of the couch Nessa said I ‘absolutely needed’.
“Ooh I haven’t seen this yet! Which season are you on?” There’s no judgement in her voice, though I knew there wouldn’t be. The regency romance theme song plays in the background as she sets her entire focus on the screen.
“The latest.”
“Well, you’ll have to catch me up, I’ve been meaning to watch it!” Her voice is earnest as she leans further into my arm.
Totally for comfort and nothing else I drape it around the couch behind her. When she doesn’t look uncomfortable or creeped out, I leave it there. Without asking, I switch to season one. I’ve watched it a few times, but it’s a comfort show for me, so I don’t mind. Graciously, she doesn’t mention the switch and settles in to watch Daphne and the Duke try to work their weird little plan.
When we’re halfway through the season, I start to hear soft, even breaths from the bundle next to me. I turn the tv off as silence saturates the room. It’s gotten quite late, the snow maintaining its vicious onslaught since she arrived as the wind howls through the streets. Stella is curled up into my side, a small beacon of warmth. I slowly, carefully, caress the top of her hair with my fingertips. She smiles in her sleep, burrowing closer to me.
I stare at the ceiling, cursing my luck at having a stunning woman in my house that I can’t touch. I was initially going tooffer her my bed and sleep on the couch myself, but she looks so peaceful here.
I gently, without waking her, disentangle myself and pad over to my room, leaving the door cracked in case she needs anything and strip down to my boxer briefs.
