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“Yes?”He appears at my side suddenly, sliding in like Cosmo Kramer.“You rang?”
I turn toward him, one hand on my hip.“You washed my plate!”
He tilts his head curiously.“Was I not supposed to?”
“I was going to do it.You didn’t have to.”
Bryson shrugs.“No big deal.You’re sick.”He reaches out and places a large palm on my forehead.“How you feeling, anyways?Your head don’t feel hot.”
“I think I feel okay.”I take a brief self-assessment; my headache has subsided and my body isn’t as tired as it was earlier, but my throat still feels pretty scratchy.“Definitely can’t go to work tonight, though.It’s a pity.”
“Think of it as a free Friday off!”Bryson exclaims, clapping his hands together.He strides out of the kitchen and into the living room, where he plops down somewhat unceremoniously on one end of the sofa.“Nothing wrong with taking it easy.”
I get myself a glass of water and then follow, sitting gently down on the other end where I left my pile of blankets.“Normally I’d agree,” I reply, which is kind of a lie.I’ve always been bad at relaxation.“But Friday and Saturday are my good tip nights.Maybe I can pick up a shift next Wednesday for wing night to try and make up for it.”
“That’s the spirit.”He claps his hand on his knee.“You get in there and bat them eyelashes of yours and sell those wings!”
I chuckle.“Fifty-cent wings sell themselves.”
Bryson’s eyes widen.“Great deal.Where’s this place again?”
“Logan’s, it’s in the Financial District not far from the Trade Center.Little dive sort of place, but it gets a decent crowd on weekends.Post-work drinks are pretty popular too, but I usually don’t work too much of that.”
“You don’t want them greasy stock trader types all over you anyway.”Bryson waves his hand.“I bet they tip good, though.”
I smile at him and reach for the remote; theReal Housewiveshas been stalled at “next episode?”on the TV for god knows how long now.“Not all of them.Depends if there are girls around they want to impress with their hundred-dollar bills.”
“Wrong kind of guy.”
“Wrong kind of girl, too.But it’s not all that type - Logan’s is pretty casual for them.”I hand Bryson the remote.“I’ve been laying here all day, it’s yours if you want it.”I assume he’ll be heading out later; he’s usually got some kind of social engagement going on, and seems to be a popular guy, which I understand now.Bryson’s fun to be around and he’s not a total asshole.
He refuses my offer of the remote.“No, no.You’re sick, you get to pick.Those are the rules, Carleigh.”
I giggle.“According to whom?”
“Everyone.”
“I can watch more embarrassing reality TV when you’re out later.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me.“Who says I’m going out later?”
“Er.”I can feel my cheeks flush inexplicably.“I kind of just assumed.You’re usually out on weekends, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but you’re sick.”Bryson reaches out and taps the ball of one of my feet, which has edged its way out from beneath the blanket.“I’ve got to keep you company.”
“Oh.”I give him a little smile.“You don’t have to take pity on me, it’s okay.Kandi and Porsha will keep me company.”At his blank look, I point toward the TV.“Housewives.”
“Oh.”Bryson rolls his eyes.“Fine, let me rephrase - I want to keep you company.If that’s alright.”
“Of course, you live here, too.”I nibble on my lower lip, secretly glad he’s not leaving.It’s sort of nice, just hanging out.Maybe I’ve been lonelier than I thought since Trinity left.I decide to make more of an effort to see Molly and my other friends.“If you’re sticking around, do you want to watch a movie tonight, maybe?”
“That sounds great,” Bryson says enthusiastically.“What are you in the - oh, I know.Let’s watch Mission Impossible!Actually, let’s watch the second one, that’s the best one.”
His suggestion actually sounds pretty good to me; I’ve already seen all of the movies, so if I fall asleep, I won’t be missing anything, but they’re also entertaining enough that I might stay awake.
“Good idea,” I reply.“But first let’s order food.”
“Ethan Hunt is so cool,”Bryson says an hour later, two chopsticks full of noodles half to his mouth.“Just hanging off that mountain like it’s nothing.”
