Page 57 of When Our Stars Aligned

“I have a little sister, remember?” I cut her off. “I even got stuck taking her and her friends to one of their concerts. Longest. Night. Ever.”

“Huh.” Aly grabs more ice for my ankle. “There is so much I have yet to learn about you.”

You have no idea, sweetheart.

***

It’s been a few weeks since my fall off the roof. Thankfully, I’m mostly healed and things have calmed down considerably. Thegirls’ condo has still not been fixed. Michelle has been going round and round with the insurance company. Supposedly, the tenants don’t want to take responsibility. I’m not complaining, though; this just means Aly and I get to spend more time together. Living with Aly is an experience, but an experience I’m very much enjoying.

“I can’t believe you wash your dishes by hand when there’s a perfectly capable dishwasher right here!” She points to my dishwasher that’s never been used.

I hold up my hands. “I have two capable dishwashers right here.”

“Well, I for one think the dishwasher was one of the greatest things ever invented. Back at home, everything goes into my dishwasher.”

“What about the stuff that’s not dishwasher safe?”

“Survival of the fittest! If you can’t take the heat, you don’t belong in my house.”

“I like washing dishes. It reminds me of spending time at my gram and pop’s place. They lived in an older home that didn’t have one. I would wash and my sister would dry.”

“Were you close to your grandparents?”

“Yeah.” I smile. “They were the best. My sister and I spent a lot of time with them when we were little. Both my parents worked, so Gram and Pop would watch us. Pop was big on sports, so he was always outside throwing a ball to me. When I got older, he came to all my swim meets. Gram was the caregiver. She was always trying to feed us, saying we were too skinny. Did you know your grandparents?”

She shakes her head. “No, my dad’s parents passed away before I was born and I guess my mom was estranged from hers or something.” She takes the spatula she just dried and places it next to the ladle in my utensil holder.

“Umm…the spatula actually goes to the right of the potato masher.”

“Does it now?” She gives me a coy smile. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

“I like my things in a certain order, in case you haven’t noticed, and while we’re on the subject, stop messing with my books. I don’t mind if you read them. Just put them back where they belong.”

“Oh, I’m not reading them.” A grin that could rival the Cheshire Cat spreads across her face.

“I didn’t think you were. Why do you have to mess with my stuff?”

She takes the spatula in her hand and spins it around her fingers like she’s twirling a lopsided baton. “You’re very set in your ways, you know.”

“I like order. Is that wrong?”

“No.” She narrows her eyes. “But I don’t think you’ve always been like this.”

She’s right. I used to be happy, but that was a long time ago before life got complicated. “Maybe I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,” I suggest.

“If I truly thought you had a disorder like that, I would not mess with you. I’ve worked with people with OCD; it can be crippling for them. No, sir…” She points the spatula toward my chest. “You are just a grump who’s become set in your ways.”

I won’t admit it to her, but she’s right again. I figure if I make my life as predictable as possible, I stand less of a chance of getting hurt again. After all, I used to be more carefree and look where it got me. “Give me the spatula.”

“No!” She curls her arm in towards her chest, cradling the metal utensil.

“Give it to me!” I take a step closer to her. She takes a step back. “Give it to me, Aly!” I lunge for her, but she predicts my move and ducks out of the way just in time for me to grab air.

“Ha!” she yells in victory and runs to the other side of the kitchen island.

“Aly, I’m not playing around. Give it to me!” I run around the island, which is stupid since she’ll probably just take off in a different direction.

Whack!

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