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Ten
Bunny slept so well, she woke up the next morning feeling like she’d missed the school bus. She threw back the blankets off and rolled to her feet from her bed like a ninja. Death turned to stare at her from where he’d been standing by the window, his eyes wide in surprise and his finger-combed hair at odds with how he usually wore it.
Bunny let herself relax when she saw him, but it wasn’t long before a niggling pain in the middle of her back made her tense up again.
“Ow,” she complained bitterly, pressing a hand gingerly to the painful spot.
“You okay?” Death asked, hurrying to her side.
“I’m fine,” Bunny insisted, thinking that she was going to have to go and fish around in her dad’s medicine cabinet for some Advil on the sly. Death waited until she straightened a little, and then backed off. It was still dark out, and Bunny'd stake her last claim on it being as cold as hell. Death folded his arms awkwardly, and then seemed so uncomfortable, he shoved his hands into his pockets instead.
“Don’t be nervous,” Bunny said, wandering over to her old closet to see what she might still have in there that could pass as ‘professional’. She began to rifle through outfits she’d forgotten about, a wave of nostalgia washing over her. Her hand paused when she came across one with pretty blue threads woven intricately into a Jackie Onassis-style- dress and jacket combo.
This wasn’t hers. She’d borrowed it years ago from her mom to wear to the mock trials her class had been holding as part of their politics class. At the time, she’d felt boring and frumpy in it, but now that her mom was gone, it was a poignant memory. Bunny ran her fingertips lightly over the fabric, reaching to unbutton the jacket with one hand as she lifted the hanger from the closet.
“I just don’t know if we should even go to this thing,” Death grumbled, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. “I won’t know anyone, or what people are talking about.”
“I’m not thrilled about it either,” Bunny reminded him, holding her outfit close to her chest so she could smell her mom’s lavender perfume. “But you heard Roberta. It’s mandatory.”
Instead of replying, he simply turned his back on her so he could look out the window.
Bunny pressed her lips together. “You never know. Maybe something or someone there’ll prompt your memory.”
“Doubt it,” he muttered. “I’m starting to think I’ll be like this forever.”
It was more bitterness than she’d come to expect from him, and for a moment Bunny wasn’t sure what she should say in response. Cynicism was much more her style than his.
“Forever’s a long-ass time,” she told him pointedly as she turned to the bed, slipping the outfit off its hanger. She laid the jacket on the bed and unzipped the dress. “Besides. It’s my first conference, too. Probably the only one I’ll ever attend if they only happen once every hundred years. So at least we can be newbies together.”
When he didn’t reply a second time, she figured she’d given him enough food for thought. “Don’t turn around, I’m getting changed.”
She slipped off the t-shirt she’d slept in and pushed down her pajama pants before stepping into the dress. Pulling it up hastily to cover herself, she was pleased to discover that it fit her really well. A little loose around the hips, maybe, but with the jacket on no one would notice.
Bunny lifted her right hand over her right shoulder, reaching down for the zipper she had already pulled up as high as she could with her left hand. It stopped moving, and she jiggled it a little, but it refused to budge. She finally gave in when her right elbow started to ache in protest at the awkward position.
With a huff, Death joined her at the mirror. He was fiddling with the tie Roberta had given him, trying to even up the lengths of it on either side of his neck. He met her gaze in the mirror.
“Could you zip me up, please?”
"Sure." His voice sounded thick and husky. If she didn't know better, she'd think he needed a glass of water. She twirled her back to him so he could perform the task. She felt him grip the fabric, the coolness of his fingertips feeling like a gentle breeze on her warm, bare skin and a moment later, the zip of her dress began to creep upwards, sticking a little. He applied more force.
“Preferably without ripping the dress or zipping my skin into it," she added with a smile. “Hold the dress underneath the zipper to make it easier to get the rest up,” she added as an afterthought.
He pinched the fabric at the small of her back, carefully moving the zipper along its track with ease.
Her mind raced ahead of her, dashing back to the times she’d wondered what it would be like to have Death undress her, rather than putting her clothes back on. The kiss they’d shared had been so brief and intense, it smothered the thoughts she’d entertained about what might happen between them beyond just a kiss.
After what seemed like an eternity, the zip came to a stop at the base of her neck. Bunny dragged her thoughts back to the present moment, the sudden absence of his chilled touch allowing her body heat to bleed through the material of her mother’s dress. She cleared her throat and then swallowed.
“Thanks,” she said, right before she looked at him—and almost laughed out loud. He was holding each end of the tie which he’d made into a bow the way he might have tied the laces of his boots.
“What do I do with this?”
Bunny was only just able to stop herself from releasing a giggle at his expense. “Here,” she said, reaching to undo the clumsy bow. She tugged on the soft black material, extending the blade end, and wondering what kind of fabric it was. It felt as smooth as butter, but it wasn’t silk. She frowned as she then wondered where Roberta had even gotten a tie, before remembering the vintage phone, the crazy archangel-calling alert buzzer, and all the other things she had seen the strange receptionist yank out of that Mary Poppins-esque top drawer of hers.
Looping the tail around the other strand of the tie twice, Bunny brought the end up and through the space at Death’s collar. This time it was her fingers that grazed his skin, feeling the very slight growth of his stubble. It never seemed to grow, and she had never seen him completely clean-shaven. Did he will it to be that way on purpose? How awesome would that be, to be able to just will her body hair into not growing back again? She’d save an absolute fortune on IPL treatments.
She finished tying the knot. “There.”
