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“Are you sure you want me to pick what we watch? Rain always hates everything I put on TV.”
That pissed me off too, but I tried not to show it. “Baby, I’ll watch whatever you put on, and I won’t complain once. I swear.”
Oh fuck. I slipped up big time there, and there were no take backs when it came to real life.
Her eyes warmed, and she smiled at me in a way that had my chest seizing momentarily.
“Do you likeThe Walking Dead?”she asked me.
I just shrugged, because I had no idea what the fuck that was. Before moving in with Romero, I didn’t even have a television. I liked books, and I liked music, but I hadn’t lied to her when I said I’d watch whatever she picked out without complaint. So long as she was happy, that was all I cared about.
“Well, it’s about zombies and badass people. Lots of people die, and I’ve cried like five times so far. It’s great, you’ll love it.”
I didn’t know about all that. I definitely didn’t want to watch something that made her cry, but I would have to take her word for it.
“Please don’t cry,” I pleaded with her. “If you cry, I might break your television, and who’s going to explain that shit to Rain?”
She laughed as she reached for the remote and fired up the TV. She opened the Netflix app and clicked on her show.
We ate in silence as we watched the show. It wasn’t uncomfortable despite how nervous we both were. It was actually the exact opposite. I watched her when she was watching the TV. She didn’t care at all about the violence or gore. It didn’t stop her from dipping both her pizza and her breadsticks in all of her sauces and munching happily on everything.
I liked this about her as well. She had a strong stomach and seemed to enjoy the gory bits. She’d fit perfectly into my life.
Fuck, I wanted her to be in my life from here on out. I wanted something permanent.
I ate my food alongside her and watched. A whole shit load of people died, but thankfully she didn’t cry.
Once we finished eating, she paused the show and carried our plates into the kitchen. I offered to help her, but she declined and simply took my plate from me before walking off.
I put the leftovers together in one box. There were only a couple of pizza slices left and a few breadsticks. I couldn’t eat any more just yet, but I was never okay with just throwing food out. I walked into the kitchen and found a spot in the fridge for the box. I didn’t care who ate it just so long as someone did and it didn’t go to waste.
After my family had been… taken from me, I had been on my own, and some of the things I had done just to be able to eat weren’t things I would ever be able to discuss with anyone else ever. There was too much shame packed away in there for me, amongst other things.
After we got settled back in the living room, she spent an hour kind of torturing me in the nicest ways. She painted my toenails a pink color that matched her sweet pajamas, and when they dried, she went over them with white sparkles.
She tried to paint my fingernails the same color, but I had to draw the line somewhere. She painted them black with silver sparkles instead.
I allowed her to put some deep-sea mud mask shit all over my face that looked like actual mud but smelled like something sweet. She made me spread that shit all over her face too.
Then she snapped a picture of the two of us on her phone, selfie style—something she could use to further torture me with later, I was sure.
After the mud got cleaned off, she taught me how to paint her nails. I wasn’t very good at it, but she didn’t seem to mind.
She acted like she had the best time ever, and even though I kind of felt like I wanted to puke when she opened up all of her bags of candy, I ate everything she offered me.
It helped to soak up the alcohol. I didn’t feel drunk in the slightest. She kept eating and drinking, though I had no idea where she put it all, and she got tipsy.
Her words slurred a little bit, and as much as I wanted to find this adorable about her too, I found it to be kind of alarming. What did she really know about me? Was it enough for her to feel this safe with me or was she just reckless?
I really needed to have a conversation with Rain about this, because it was unacceptable. She had no sense of self-preservation, and that scared the shit out of me.
I turned off her show when she passed out, knowing she wouldn’t want to miss out on anything because she seemed so invested in it.
After a quick walk through of the cabin, I found her bedroom. It was the only one that looked like a girl lived in it. There was pink everywhere, and I figured that it might be her favorite color.
I carried her into her bedroom and tucked her under the covers without her so much as twitching.
I got the whole mess of her stuff on the coffee table picked up and put away. I put the girlie shit and candy on the dresser in her bedroom, while the wine and pucker got put away in the fridge.
