Lincoln
“What the fuck are you doing?” Russ leaned over his shoulder. “Are you…? I don’t understand what I’m seeing. I feel like Jude should be here for this arts and crafts sesh, Uncle Linc.”
“I’m making a bouquet of stationery.”
“Okay… but, why?”
He pressed the fake flower onto the end of a pen and held it, praying the hot glue wouldn’t stick his finger to the flower, again. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try me.” He dragged the chair over to the bed, sat down, and kicked off his shoes. “I ain’t got nothin’ but time.” He lifted his feet onto the corner of the mattress, and crossed his legs at the ankles, sliding his palms behind his head.
Linc dropped the flower-topped pen into the Mason jar before grabbing another flower and the hot glue gun. “She has a stationery… thing.”
“Like, she collects it?”
“Okay she has two stationery things.” He squeezed a blob of glue onto the underside of the flower and pressed it on top of a freshly sharpened number two pencil. “First thing is she collects it. She loves all-things-stationery. Notebooks, pens, pencils, stickers, journals, planners – legit any kind of stationery you can think of, this woman collects it. I say collects because even if she lived to be two hundred and fifty years old, there’s literally no way she could use all of this stuff.”
Russell held up a finger. “That’s one thing. What’s the other?”
“She’s… uh… protective of it.”
Russ pulled his legs off the bed and leaned forward, draping his elbows over his knees. “Protective?”
“Yeah. There is a ‘loaner section’ of her stash. Stuff mere mortals can touch, versus the stuff that people will die for touching.”
Russ chuckled. “Fuck. You have it bad, man. So which is this? Muggle shit, or die-for-touching shit?”
“Both. So the stuff in the Mason jar is common usage and this…” He held up a fountain pen and a small bottle of ink labeled “Writer’s Blood.” “This one is for the ‘touch and die’ pile.”
Accepting the small bottle, Russ leaned back in his seat and studied the label. “Is it her birthday?”
“Nope.”
“Then why?”
“Felt like it?”
Russ reached over and ruffled Linc’s hair. “Dude. You’re so fucking gone, it’s totes adorbs.” He pinched his cheek. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Honestly, man, I don’t give a shit who knows.”
“She feels the same?”
Did she feel the same? Had Russ seen something in her behavior to suggest shedidn’tfeel the same? “I think so.” How the hell did this woman manage to tie him up in knots? He slid another flower-topped pen into the jar with a clink. “I mean, she probably doesn’t want her mama to know she’s in a relationship with me. I guess the woman is pretty hardcore.”
“Professor Martinez? She’s Austin’s history teacher, isn’t she? We could ask him what she’s like.”
“Let’s not. Cleo was a little more ‘fast and loose’ when we were texting. She keeps things closer to her chest these days, but from what I gather, her parents are quite strict. They have high expectations of her and they don’t suffer foolishness or distractions from her goal of graduating valedictorian.”
“Is that her goal or theirs?” Russ handed back the bottle of ink and folded his arms. “Sounds like she’s under a lot of pressure.”
Lincoln tied a ribbon around the neck of the jar and made a poor attempt at a bow.
“Fuck. Give that to me. Let me fix it.” Russ made light work of tying a perfect bow.
Linc smirked.
“Don’t mock my epic bow-skills, or I won’t help you ever again. Is Cleo under a lot of pressure?”
