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Theo
Rubbingmytiredeyes,I lift myself out of bed and reach for my robe hanging on the closet door. I spent half the night tossing and turning, unable to stop thinking about how Finn acted last night. I was used to him being affectionate and very touchy, but something about the way he’s been interacting with me lately has differed within the last month.
The bathroom brightens as I flick on the light. Staring in the mirror, I touch my cheek with my fingers and remember the wet warmth of Finn’s tongue when it touched my skin. Finn is the kind of person who is continuously full of surprises but when he cleaned my cheek with his mouth, he stole the air right from my lungs. I didn’t know how to react to the action and still don’t.
It can’t mean anything. It was only him being his goofy, unapologetic self. At what point does it cross the line? Will I allow him to keep going when it does? He’s found new ways to greet me and say goodbye throughout the years. When he started kissing me on the cheek I saw it as nothing more than thoughtful and sweet. I’m not so sure now. All the words he kept saying when we were sitting under the stars have been playing on repeat in my head and I haven’t been able to make sense of any of them.
Maybe I’m not supposed to.
Cool water splashes on my skin as I wash my face. I brush my teeth and then walk through the kitchen to grab my favorite floral shirt and skinny jeans from the dryer. My robe falls to my feet when I slide it off my body, the cool air leaving behind a slight tingling on my skin. I reach into the dryer to grab my clothes and they aren’t hard to find since I didn’t wash much else with them.
Whistling sounds from the kitchen. I freeze in place before I can fully pull my shirt around my shoulders. Slowly poking my head out, I peek around the wall and Finn is grabbing orange juice from the fridge and drinking straight from the carton.
I repress a groan, not wanting him to look this way if he hasn’t already. He knows how much I hate when he doesn’t get a cup. Almost as much as I hate when he uses his hands to serve himself a piece of banana bread. I’ve contemplated grabbing two of every drink from the store so he has his own designated jug of milk and juice to drink from whenever he swings by. Which is basically every day.
Placing the cap back on the juice, Finn examines the shelves in the fridge and puts the carton back to pull out a carton of eggs. He moves around my kitchen as if he’s the only one here, switching between humming and whistling. He sets the eggs on the counter and grabs a pan from the bottom cabinet by the sink before setting it on the stove. Shaking his hips back and forth, he pours coffee grounds into the small slot of the coffee maker and adds water to the top before flipping the small switch to On.
In between more whistling and dancing, he reaches for two eggs. They crack one by one as he hits them on the counter and then sizzle in the hot pan.
Did he not see me here? Why didn’t I notice him on my way to the laundry room? He sure is quiet when he wants to be.
Yanking down my shirt, I reach for my jeans on the floor. The material clings to my damp skin as I shove my legs into each side. “Finn?” I say, buttoning the front of my jeans.
His loud whistling prevents him from hearing me so I call his name again as I approach him from behind. “Finn.”
I reach out to him and before my hand can reach his shoulder, he spins around, staring at me with wide eyes. His face brightens and the corners of his lips tilt. “Hey. You’re up.”
“Yeah. I’ve been up for a while now. Was getting dressed. When did you let yourself in?”
He flips the eggs with the spatula, his smile as wide as before. “Only a few minutes ago. You’re almost out of orange juice by the way.”
I sputter a laugh. “I’m sure I am. I run low on a lot of things after each of your visits.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll replace it. I usually do.”
He’s right. Last time I bickered at him for drinking all the milk in the fridge, he surprised me the next morning with ten cartons. Then I was mad at him for over filling my fridge with milk I’d never be able to drink in time. Thankfully, my friend Kevin knew a few kittens in the scene who loved it at a weekly game night he attends. He’s invited me a few times but I’m always way too exhausted on the weekdays to do anything besides work and eat with my family.
When Isaac comes over it’s usually to sleep, and a lot of times I’d rather read in bed than leave my house to mingle with strangers. I’m an introvert and Isaac hates it. As much as I love being in bird space, I’m more at ease playing with my handler alone. Meeting new friends can sometimes be fun for me but at the same time overwhelming.
Not everyone has seen a bird before, so they are always touching and petting my wings. I’m not a fan of strangers touching me anywhere, let alone my wings. They are always doing it the wrong way too, instead of moving against the feathers the way they are supposed to. Like other birds, I prefer pets on the head and the side of my face when it’s being done casually. Everywhere else is a little too intimate for me.
Finn pulls down a few plates and bread pops up from the toaster. I don’t remember him ever grabbing bread or using any other appliances besides the stove. He must have done it while I was grabbing my clothes.
“Breakfast is done.” Scooping an egg on the spatula, he places it on my plate and adds a slice of toast before handing it to me. “Over easy the way you like it. I made coffee too.”
“You didn’t have to make me breakfast.” With hesitancy, I wrap my fingers around the plate and carry my food away. Opening one of the drawers, I grab a fork and walk toward the table.
“I wanted to make sure you ate something before we made the long drive outside town.” He fixes his own plate and sits it on the counter while he cleans up his mess.
He’s been leaving behind trails of messes less and less lately. He really has grown. His parents keep treating him like a child when he’s far from one.
Not to mention he’s a fantastic cook. My focus shifts to the delicious smelling food. The egg practically melts on my tongue when I place the first forkful in my mouth. Why don’t I allow him to cook for me more? He’s the only man who ever has.
I chew my food slowly and swallow it while taking in his last words again. Leave it to Finn to casually invite himself to places as if it was part of the plan all along.
“We?” I arch a brow.
“Si. I’m going with you today. Figured you could use some company.” The sink turns on and dishes clatter against each other before the water stops running.
