I open the fridge, grab a chocolate milk, and shake it in the air, trying to pull a smile out of him again. “Want one?”
“Of course you would drink chocolate milk.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I toss it to him as I grab another one for me. “Drink it. It’ll help you fall asleep. I’m also done up there, so no more light. I’m sorry about that. Would curtains help you? I can go get you some.”
“I like the moonlight coming through the windows.”
I smile. “We have that in common. It’s the reason I like painting up there.”
I sip on my chocolate milk, nodding for him to do the same. He considers it, eyes the milk carton then me. I wiggle my eyebrows before closing my eyes, letting my eyelashes kiss the top of my cheeks and smile. “Do it,” I whisper, straw between my teeth.
The wrapper breaks, and when I snap my eyes open, there he is, sipping on his chocolate milk like a good boy.
“Perfect, isn’t it?”
He hums, squeezing his carton and stepping around thekitchen island to toss it in the trash. Or, at least, I assume, but instead, he towers over me, eyes trained on mine, but I don’t dare to break contact as I sip the last bit of milk. The bubbles gurgle, and I let go of the straw with a quiet pop, which he takes as his sign to grab the carton from my lips. The air between us is filled with an energy I can’t quite describe or grasp, but it’s one I can’t wait to snap.
It’s too much.
Suffocating.
Inebriating.
He’s like a sip of a crisp beer after a hot day, and I can’t get enough, even if it’s just a few words here or there. I swallow hard, mimicking his hard stare and the way his Adam's apple bobs. The back of our fingers brush against each other, ever so slightly, but enough to jolt us both back.
He tosses the cartons onto the trashcan. “I better go. It’s past eleven, and a very chirpy neighbor wakes me up before dawn.”
“I’m being as quiet as a mouse in the mornings. You are just too light of a sleeper. Why don’t you take some melatonin or something?”
He spears the way towards the front door. “I never needed help staying asleep before; I’ll get used to it again.”
“Kay. Sorry again.” I hold the door open as he steps onto the porch.
“Don’t sweat it. Neighbors have to make sacrifices all the time. I guess mine is sleep.”
“And mine is my music.”
We both laugh. What a gift I’ve been given, to make this man laugh like that.
“You know, you’re actually kind of nice sometimes,” I say.
Although he’s smiling, there’s a scowl that never leaves his eyes. Maybe that will be my next goal: get this man to relax for real.
“Why does that sound like an insult?” he asks
I roll my eyes. “You’re impossible. It’s a compliment. I’ll start keeping those to myself from now on then.”
His fingers brush over his thick beard, his hand freezing halfway down the length. “It sounded like you were disappointed I was kind of nice.”
I laugh this time. “Oh, I was.” I have lost all my filters with this man. Is it because I breathe easier around him, or because I love surprising him with my shit? Either way, we’ll never know.
The confusion that slaps him in the face is borderline comical. “Why?”
I shrug. “Well, becausenow, I might have to like you.”
He opens his mouth, but no words escape. He just pauses and searches my face. I left him speechless.
Again.
