Page 66 of Apex of the Curve

“Yeah, those are good.”

“Okay, go do your thing and meet me back down here,” I said, divesting myself of my jacket and cut, hanging them by the back door.

“Okay,” she said with a smile and went upstairs.

I pulled my phone out of my pants pocket and pulled up the food delivery app, placing my usual order just no green peppers.

We ate, we talked, shared some laughs and I realized that Aspen was incredibly easy to talk to. Not only that, we enjoyed enough of the same things that the conversation never really strayed into territory that made either of us uncomfortable.

I too, realized, that she was incredibly laid back – like on a deep level – none of this surface fake ass shit that women liked to pretend to be. Oh, I’m so laid back! Until you realized that no, no they weren’t. Of course, Aspen didn’t really feel the need to talk herself up in that regard. She just was, and it made her even more beautiful to me.

“What do you want to watch?” I asked her and I genuinely didn’t know what to expect her to say.

“You pick first,” she said. “I’m horribly indecisive and if you leave it to me, we’re going to spend all night trying to find something to do.”

“Oh, I’m going to have no trouble at all finding something to do when it comes to you,” I said with a wink.

She blushed and laughed and threw a balled-up napkin at me, hitting me in the arm.

I laughed with her, but I had something in mind. Something I’d seen probably a thousand times, enjoyed, but it would let me focus on the woman I intended to have in my arms for the whole show.

“You ever read any Michael Crichton?” I asked.

“What, like Jurassic Park?” she asked, taking a bite of her pizza.

“Well, yeah, that’s what he’s most known for but I mean like Timeline, or The 13th Warrior.”

“Mm-mm,” she hummed as she chewed, shaking her head.

“Have you ever seen The 13th Warrior?” I asked.

“Mm.” She nodded, swallowed, and said, “A long time ago. Isn’t that the one with Antonio Banderas?”

“The one and the same,” I answered. “It was based on the book The Eaters of the Dead by Michael Crichton, but in actuality, the first three chapters of that book are based on the actual Arab dude’s journal. Like he was real, and actually alive and traveled with these Viking dudes.”

“And the rest?” she asked, genuinely interested.

“Loosely based on Beowulf,” I answered.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen it,” she said. “I don’t really remember it. I think it sounds great, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Awesome, go on upstairs and find some comfortable clothes. I’ll clean up down here, get things cued up on the big screen, and then do the same and we’ll settle in for the night. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” she agreed.

“Go team,” I joked, and she laughed and got up.

She went upstairs, I cleaned up, and found the DVD among the racks against the one living room wall and got things ready. She was brushing her teeth in her adorable country nightgown when I went up to change myself.

“All good?” I asked, and she smiled shyly around her toothbrush and nodded.

I would keep her here forever if I could. It was nice having a woman here. Someone to come home to. Someone to hold and to wake up in the middle of the night with, her cuddled into my side, holding me.

I was going to miss this when she went back to Tacoma.

---