Page 71 of Hilarina and the Ogre

“That doesn’t seem fair,” he made himself say.

Hilary was back to lounging, his phone forgotten in his lap. “For you or for me?”

“For you. Having to work while I don’t.”

“It’s the opposite, actually. I’d rather have you here. A place I know is safe. That way I don’t have to worry about what anyone might be doing to you while I’m gone. What happened today at the restaurant—that’s going to fuck me up for a while. A long while. I don’t think I can handle the thought of you in a new place, and I don’t want to. I wish you’d stay here. I want to ask you to stay here.”

And he could see that Hilary had been wanting to ask—no, that he had been asking it of him the whole while, every time he’d come to visit the restaurant secretly hoping to have him take off the apron and never look back.

Trenton found it was the easiest decision he’d ever make. “I’ll quit now.” Had already mentally quit, in fact. Where had he put his phone? He always knew where it was, but it wasn’t in his pocket. He found it on the bookcase, and three minutes later he was back on the couch after his resignation call and feeling very different. Bold. Assertive. Entirely foreign to himself. “You need to say it when you need something,” he told his new jailer. “I know I should be like you and understand without needing to hear things, but for now you need to advocate for yourself.”

Hilary gaped at him.

Trenton took the man’s hand. It seemed another push was needed. “What else would help, do you think?” He asked. “Should I follow you to work, or stay here at home where it’s safe? We could download one of those GPS tracking apps for me. They make those, I think. For parents to keep track of their children.”

Hilary’s gaping was only growing worse, and Trenton wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong.

“Would a security camera be better? Or one of those baby monitors. Those have sound too, right? Do you want me to check in with you at certain times? We can set up—”

The hand clamped over his mouth had Trenton stopping mid-sentence.

Hilary was looking overwhelmed. “Why are you saying those things?”

Trenton waited for the hand to peel back before he spoke again. “I thought it might help to have the options. You’re anxious, right?”

“But it’s not normal. Wanting to spy on you. To have you constantly scrutinized.”

Trenton told himself not to laugh, knowing somehow that it would upset Hilary further. “But aren’t you a stalker?”

Hilary went white. Then pink. Then abruptly stood, going back to the kitchen. Trenton followed and watched the man bang around, pouring himself a glass of milk. Hilary got himself a straw and everything, pink with silver swirls going around. When the man caught him looking, he snarled, “They’re leftovers from a party at work.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

It was no good. Trenton knew he would laugh soon. He could feel the smile starting up already. “Are you upset with me?”

“You make me sound crazy.”

“I thought we both were.”

Hilary was banging around in the cabinets too. When he found a box of animal crackers, he took them down—preempting judgment with another glare.

“Do you like those?” Trenton found himself asking, unable to keep quiet.

“You’re not getting any.”

Were all stalkers so cute? He was sure they couldn’t be. Maybe he was becoming a stalker himself. He could see himself trailing after this man, taking pictures and hanging them up on the wall. Proper stalker behavior. “Can I really stay here? And have you be here too?”

“Well, you’re not kicking me out of my own home.”

There was some purple Pillsbury icing in the fridge. Hilary got that out too, stacked everything carefully, and kicked the fridge closed. Maybe Trenton ought to have helped, but the thought wouldn’t occur to him until later. The whole situation felt like a fantastic kind of show, and again, it was all for him.

Hilary took his treasure trove back to the living room, unloaded it onto the coffee table, and set everything down in a line. That was when the magic ritual began. First, the cookie was dunked in the frosting, the excess scraped off against the edge of the container. Next came a small dollop of chocolate syrup as close to the center of the cookie as possible. Finally, Hilary put the whole thing in his mouth, holding it there while he took a sip of milk in through the corner of his mouth. It was a masterpiece of excess. Trenton nearly applauded. “I hope you don’t eat like this every day.”

“Fuck off. I’m stress eating.”

“Am I the stress?”