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But he persisted and he said that he didn’t want my help. After he admired my new furniture for a sufficient amount of time, he went into the little room and I pulled over a new chair so that we could talk as he worked. He was glad to hear that I’d gotten over my wariness surrounding Mrs. McGlothen—most of it.

“I don’t think we can assume motives or rationale to what she said, the remark about something stopping. It could have been anything,” he told me.

“But it was weird. Right?” I prompted. “That was strange.”

“That was strange,” he agreed. “I have no idea what she meant and I’m also ready to jump to the same conclusion that you did. Ow.” He shook his hand where some splattering sauce had hit him, and then ran it under cold water from the tap. We both watched and listened to the spectacle as he did, and it certainly didn’t seem to be diminishing now. If anything, it was louder than this afternoon, and Oliver said the same thing.

“It’s more, not less,” he told me. “Holy Moses, it’s bubbling over!” I stepped in to help.

Things worked better when we both cooked together, and the dinner was as good as he had promised. There was also a big mess afterwards, because he had used most of the new cookware I’d purchased since my mom’s boyfriend had stolen everything, and it took us a while to wash it all.

I found myself humming along and then without realizing it, I started singing. “For the longest while, I'd forget to smile…” I stopped. “Sorry.”

“You can sing. I like it.”

“It’s a good song,” I agreed.

“No, I mean that I like your voice. It’s pretty with the rasp. I feel like I’m in an old speakeasy.” He smiled down at me.

“Gramps told me that my voice was awful and that I should never sing, ever. I didn’t know him at the time.”

“He said that?” Oliver got angry. “It’s bullshit. I could listen to you all day long.”

“You don’t have to,” I assured him.

“Let’s duet,” he suggested, and we did.

Everything went wrong, and the whole day long, I'd feel so blue. For the longest while, I'd forget to smile, then I met you.

He was smiling again as he watched me dry a pot. “Let’s come back to this,” he said, and turned off the water. The glitter faded and the hearts gradually dissolved. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” This didn’t sound good. It reminded me of when my mom had said, “Hekate! Exciting news!” That news was always about the arrival of some new friend, the dissolution of her latest project and plans for a new one, or the announcement that I needed to pack all my physical accoutrement because yay, we were getting to move again! I hadn’t greeted any of those things with excitement.

But I followed Oliver to the couch, which was a lot more like chocolate than it was mud-colored. He sat down and then reached for my hands. “I don’t know how to say this, not exactly,” he started off.

“Oh,” I repeated. “It’s better to do it fast.” I had never liked to draw out bad news.

“Ok. Ok, I’ll tell you.” He cleared his throat. “I think that you can get a feeling about people.” He looked at me and seemed to wait.

“Yes, that’s what Gramps always says. You can start to spot bad drivers and guess what they’ll do.”

“Exactly, but it can also be positive. For example, as I came to know you, I got the feeling that you were loyal and careful, but also fun to be around. I got the feeling that you cared a lot about others. I saw how you didn’t want Gramps to be alone,” he told me. “I also saw that you were concerned that other people wouldn’t like you. I don’t know why you didn’t have a lot of friends before, because I don’t know how people could stop themselves from liking you. I do. I want to be around you all the time.”

This wasn’t sounding bad at all, unless a huge “however” was coming. “Thank you,” I said cautiously (like he had just said that I was).

“I’ve been worried that I was jumping into something. I made poor choices before,” he continued and then cleared his throat again. “But then I remembered my own advice. I kept telling Gramps to make up with my dad. I said that life was short and I asked him how he would he feel if he missed the chance.” Oliver nodded. “It’s the same thing with us. What would I do if I missed this chance with you? I don’t know how you feel but I think that it’s similar to what I—”

I leaned forward and kissed him, because I felt exactly similar. Exactly, but even more. I couldn’t say it so I decided to show it, in the form of kissing him on his lips and face. “I don’t want to miss this chance,” I told him. “I never had a one like this before.”

“I don’t think we get many of them,” he answered. “If we’re lucky, we can have one.” He held my cheeks and looked at me. “I’m so glad that you picked the Milaflores Building.”

We kissed more and got more entangled there on the couch, which had a nice, broad seat with plenty of room for snuggling like this. At one point, he pulled off one of the fleeces that I was wearing and then also the sweater underneath, but I didn’t even feel cold. He didn’t seem to, either, when I tried to unbutton his shirt and he yanked it over his head. I hoped that he didn’t mind losing those buttons.

It was even better to be close to him with fewer layers, as he lay on his back with me on top. Then he raised his knee and his thigh fit between mine, and felt very good. Like, I wanted to take off my jeans, his jeans, all the underwear—that kind of good. I had started panting as I moved my hips and he bit my neck.

“Let’s go into your bedroom,” he murmured, and I was so glad about that furniture delivery. Oliver stood and I wrapped my legs around him, so we kept kissing as we sought my new mattress. Then he leaned us back onto the bed and the pressure of his body with my legs around his hips gave me so many ideas. I pulled at the top of his jeans and since he was doing the same to mine, it took us a while to get rid of the rest of our clothes. And I still wasn’t cold, despite the lack of a thermostat! I wasn’t even thinking about temperatures except that my body seemed to be burning—more like, yearning.

He was just beautiful. “Oh, that’s a lot,” I said, looking at him. I had seen plenty of naked men in my life, since many of the people we’d lived with hadn’t believed in clothing or had believed strongly in exhibitionism. But none of them had looked like he did right now, like you would want to lick him all over.