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TWELVE
shai
I twistedin my sheets as knocking sounded on my bedroom door. I did my best not to disturb Rolo’s sleeping form beside me, but his head lifted. The knocking had awakened him as well.
“If you don’t have a large pizza, don’t even bother coming in here!” I called out in lieu of a greeting.
“What about fried chicken?” Colt’s voice replied.
“You may enter,” I said, sitting up so fast that my head spun. Colt’s fried chicken meant Shelly’s Dirty Bird, the best chicken in the city.
My mouth watered even as the room continued to tilt on a weird axis. I ignored it; it would right itself soon.
Colt pushed open the door and peered into the dark room.
I wasn’t sure of the time or even if it was light or dark outside. I’d stayed up later than I should have the night before with Brittany and then had come into my room, shutting my blackout curtains so that I could sleep late into Monday. I didn’t often have the chance to sleep in, and after the week I’d had I was going to take full advantage of it.
“I swear, you sleep like a bat,” Colt said, walking across the room, his intent clear as he started toward my shut curtains.
I knew the floor was littered with junk. My jeans from the day before. A laundry basket full of clothes. I was pretty sure my blow dryer was somewhere in that mix.
And yet Colt navigated it all with ease, in the dark. Of course he did.
Metal rings screeched loudly against the metal bar. I threw my hands over my ears.
“Too much, too early,” I groaned. “Maybe even chicken isn’t worth waking up for.”
“What about biscuits?” Colt asked. I could hear his grin in his words.
I jumped out of bed. The man knew just how to play me, but I couldn’t care. He was way too fluent in my love language of comfort food.
I grabbed a hair tie on my way to my bathroom, leaving the door open as I brushed my teeth. I probably should have shut it behind me. Was it weird that I didn’t mind brushing my teeth in front of Colt? But letting him into these vulnerable moments felt right, maybe because he’d already seen me at my absolute lowest.
“I’ll start setting the table,” he said, leaving my bedroom as I braided my hair. Rolo followed him right out the door, showing where his loyalty lay. The dog loved me but he adored Colt. Probably because Colt would surely share his fried chicken with Rolo whereas there was no way I’d give even one bite of that finger-licking goodness to anyone, even my beloved dog.
I kicked the door shut before relieving myself even though Colt had already left the room. I washed my hands, slapped on some face moisturizer, and headed toward the kitchen. I probably should have changed into real clothes, but then again it was my day off. I might just stay in pajamas all day.
Colt handed me a plate piled high with fried chicken, biscuits, and corn on the cob. Just how I liked my breakfasts: greasy and without a single hint of anything green. I usually tried to eat healthier through the rest of the day, but something about breakfast had me craving buttery, fried, and sweet.
I set my plate on the table and filled two cups with ice and water. I then held up the coffee pot, offering the beverage to Colt.
He shook his head so I opted out as well. I’d already slept too long. I didn’t want trouble falling asleep that night.
I grabbed a couple of forks and took the ice waters to the table just as Colt finished filling his plate. We sat down at the same time, as though we’d choreographed our moves.
We had somehow managed to coordinate that whole thing without uttering a single word. I was grateful Brittany wasn’t around. She would have read too much into this and said something silly like we were in tune with one another, when really it was just easy to get takeout on a plate and I knew Colt liked water. Granted, things were never like this with anyone else, but sometimes you just had certain types of relationships with certain kinds of friends. Colt was the kind of friend I worked seamlessly with.
He blessed our food and I dug in, suddenly starving. Was it really that late in the day? I forgot my question when the first of the buttered bliss hit my tongue and it took everything in me not to groan. Shelly sure knew how to bake a biscuit. It was only after I’d consumed a couple of bites that I took time to look at the clock. Noon. Oh man, I really had slept in.
I finished my first biscuit and then turned my attention to a fried thigh. Colt knew better than to serve me white meat.
The juices from the fried goodness hit my mouth and lips, and this time I couldn’t hold in the moan.
Colt looked up from where he’d been silently consuming his meal.
“That good?” he asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
“Even better,” I managed around a huge bite. I realized that although I’d stayed up late with Brittany I hadn’t eaten since dinner at six. No wonder I was so hungry, especially after the kind of day I’d had on Saturday.
