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“If that is what you want to call it.”
I watch her reassembling her defenses quickly, drawing them in front of her like drawing the curtain closed. Desperately, want to reach out and pull her back closer to me.
“You know, you don't have to do that,” I blurt out.
“I'm not doing anything,” she scowls, looking down into her mug.
“You are. Every time you and I are on the brink of having a conversation, you withdraw like I've done something to you. But haven't done anything to you.”
“Oh you haven't?” she counters.
“No, I really haven't,” I answer honestly. “Think back, Bella. Has there ever been a single time when I've been anything but straight with you? Anything but nice, even?”
She purses her lips, glancing up at me. I see she's really trying to piece this out. To her surprise, there isn't anything.
It surprises me too, honestly.
“No… I guess not.”
I pat the cushion next to me with my fingertips. “Now why don’t you come and sit over here? Let me be nice to you up close and in person.”
She sighs through her nose, her nostrils flaring adorably. “See? I'm nice to you for twenty seconds, and you're already trying to take advantage.”
“I'm not trying to take advantage of you. I'm trying to get laid. Straight up, honest, direct. I feel like that would be good for both of us.”
Her mouth falls open. “Unbelievable!” she huffs, slapping her palms on the armrests of her chair. “You almost had me fooled with that nice guy act, just there.”
“What are you talking about? Fucking is nice, in case you haven't noticed!” I shrug, wondering why she is not appreciating the obvious. “I know you're not a prude. I was there, remember?”
“Just never mind!”
She stands again and walks over to me, then snatches the mug out of my hands. I hear her little heels pounding on the floorboards as she stalks back into the kitchen and get up to follow her.
The kitchen is really nice too, with porcelain subway tiles and an old-fashioned sink. She twists the faucet cruelly, rinsing up the cups and banging them against the bottom of the sink like they've offended her too.
“Okay, okay, okay…” I sigh. “I'm sorry for mentioning fucking when we’re not actually fucking. I suppose that is somehow extremely rude of me. Better?”
“You should not be here by yourself,” she says without turning around. She flings open a cabinet door and stands on her tiptoes to rearrange some boxed dry good items.
“Why not?”
“Because someone might see you!” she almost yells, spinning around to face me. Her eyes flash dangerously, her brows crinkling in the center as she scowls. “You're almost at the finish line, do you realize that? There's only a few more days before this is all over. All of this!”
She stirs the air in front of her with her fingertips indicating all of this like it's a pot of stew or something.
“What if I don’t want it to be over?”
She rolls her eyes up to the ceiling and crosses her arms, sighing loudly. “That's not the agreement.”
“Agreements can be renegotiated,” I remind her.
I don’t even know why I am saying this. I suppose I just like arguing with her so much that I would say anything to keep the conversation going. But even as the words come out of my mouth and I hear them, it doesn't sound like such a bad idea. And she's right, there are only a few more days left. After that time she’ll be, what, gone? Just like that?
Her lips open and then close. She looks me over shrewdly and for just a second, I feel like her defenses fall again. I can sense the confusion and tumult in her mind. She has that look of someone who doesn't want to move a muscle, it case they divulge something they’re trying to keep secret by mistake.
“We could talk about that later,” I finally say, letting her off the hook.
I glance away to break the tension even more. Out of the corner of my eye I see her relax, just a little bit. She rolls her ankle, flexing her bare toes against the linoleum floor. Some part of my mind wants to know if it would be okay if I dropped to my knees and picked her foot up to lick her toes, but now is probably not the right moment.
