Page 58 of Holding On

"Right." My dick would disagree but my head tells me she's right. There's no need to rush. I want to keep seeing her, so if slowing things down is what she's most comfortable with, then that's what we'll do.

"Oh my God, I stink," she says sniffing the collar of her dress.

"You don't stink."

"I reek of fried chicken. Why didn't you say something?"

"I thought you knew."

"I did, but I get so used to it I don't think about it."

"If I'd told you, what exactly would you do?" I smile. "Strip?"

"No, but I could've maybe put on one of your shirts." She sniffs her long dark hair. "I can't believe you didn't say anything. Even my hair smells. You basically just made out with fried chicken."

I laugh. "I like fried chicken. Always have."

She just shakes her head as we make our way to the door.

"Are you making a surprise house call tomorrow too?" I ask.

"Probably not. I need to get home at a reasonable hour and get some sleep. But I'll see you on Thursday."

"But you'll be working."

She kisses me. "If you keep your house clean, it'll take me less time to finish, which means more time for other things."

"So if you're done you don't have to leave?"

"Lois told them it takes three hours to clean your house so that's what they have down." She smiles. "I don't need three hours to clean, especially if you don't make too much of a mess." She walks off. "See ya."

I've never been more motivated to clean. But not now. It's late and I'm tired, but tomorrow I'll be picking up my shit. Doing laundry. Loading dishes into the dishwasher. Anything to give me more time with her.

***

The next day as I'm picking up the clothes I have laying around and dumping them in the laundry basket, Jackson calls.

"Jackson, my man. What's up?"

"What's with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you sound so happy?"

"I didn't know I did."

"Trust me, you do. I haven't heard you sound this way since..." His voice trails off.

He doesn't like to talk about the accident. Nobody does. It's the elephant in the room that everyone refuses to bring up.

"Guess I'm just having a good day."

"It's more than that. It's that girl, isn't it? That girl you had over the other day."

"I don't know. Maybe." I pick a t-shirt off the floor and toss it in the laundry basket.

"What's her name?"

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