Page 45 of Cruel Fate

I tear my eyes away from the photo. She looks good in black yoga pants and a clingy light pink t-shirt. Her hair falls in a wavy curtain down her back, and her feet are bare. The three years between her graduation picture and now haven’t changed her a bit.

“I didn’t know you were in foster care. What happened to your parents?”

She shrugs. “I never had a dad, and my mom passed away when I was small. That’s it.”

It’s never that simple, but obviously, if she had family, social services would have found them. It’s a sore subject, and she closes off, so I let it go.

“Do I get a tour?” I ask, hoping to dispel the tension.

“Sure, but there’s not much to see. You found out I like to read. The kitchen,” she says, gesturing to a table, counter, fridge, and stove. The two rooms meld together into one large area.

She leads me down a short hallway. The bathroom is clean, but the toilet, sink, and bathtub are the color of cheap margarine.

The bedroom is across the hall. This room, too, has a large window and Stella has put a queen-sized bed under it. There are more bookshelves, also packed full of cheap paperbacks. The room smells of fabric softener and baby powder. The combination makes me hard, and it’s all I can do not to carry her to the bed and have my way with her. I want to fuck her all night. I want her to think about me whenever she’s in bed. I want her to finger herself, picturing me between her legs, my tongue teasing her clit.

“Should we order?” she asks, standing in the doorway.

I’m hungry, but not for food. “Yeah. That sounds good. What do you like on your pizza?”

We decide on a double meat, double cheese, and she calls a pizzeria I’ve never heard of to place our order. I pull my wallet out of my pocket to pay, but she waves me off, giving the person a discount code off a coupon stuck to the fridge and her own debit card number.

She’s the first girl I’ve dated who’s picked up the tab for our meal.

“Why did you do that?” I ask as she hangs up her landline. I should tell her to get rid of it. She can use the cell that came with her position, and it will save her a bill. I don’t know how much landlines cost, but every little bit helps. Or so they say.

“Because I asked you over, so it’s my treat. That’s how manners work.” She grins at me.

I chuckle and let her nudge me toward the couch. We start a movie on Netflix, a chick flick starring Jennifer Lopez I’ve never seen.

Come to think of it, I don’t read, don’t watch movies or TV. I was too busy in school, and after I graduated, too busy at the company learning all I could from Dad. Then he and Mom passed away, all I did was sit in my room and stare at the wall. Stella’s hobbies force me to think about my free time and how I would like to spend it if I’m not with her. Dad had golf, Mom had her charities and bubble baths. I don’t know what Zarah likes to do, either.

It’s like a fog is slowly lifting, and I have no idea where I am anymore.

We eat off paper plates and use paper towels as napkins. The pizza’s delicious, and I eat half of it by myself.

Stella teases me and pours a can of lime fizzy water into a glass filled with ice. I don’t know what it’s going to taste like, andI try some, expecting to dislike it, but it’s generic Perrier and I drink three more cans.

After we’re done eating, we pause the movie, and I help her wrap the leftovers and store them in the fridge.

She puts on a pot of coffee, and as it drips, the earthy aroma fills her apartment and mingles with the pumpkin-pie-scented candle. I lean against the counter and hold her, my arms wrapped around her. She wiggles into me and sighs. It’s cozy in here, and I’m content in a way that’s new to me. Even when my parents were alive, I never felt like this, and I want to remember it so I can dissect it later. I want to be able to find this feeling again.

For dessert, she dishes up chocolate ice cream into chipped bowls, and the imperfections give them character rather than make them look cheap. She adds whipped cream and sprinkles, like in a real ice cream parlor.

I want to use the whipped cream other places, and I tell myself to calm down and not be a jerk on our first date.

We carry the bowls and mugs into the living room, and propping my feet on the coffee table, I devour my ice cream. Between bites, I give her frozen kisses, licking the sugar off her lips.

Toward the end of the movie, I lay my head in her lap. I stretch out along the couch, and she loosens my tie and slides it out from underneath my collar. She brushes her fingers through my hair, smoothing it off my forehead, and her touch reminds me of my mom and when she would sit with me on nights I couldn’t sleep.

Tears fill my eyes, and as Jennifer Lopez and Matthew McConaughey fall in love, I cry into Stella’s leg, keening.

I haven’t cried since my parents died.

Stella leans over me and rocks, and for not one second does she let me go.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Stella

---