Page 4 of Cream and Punishment
The real question was, would I prefer he watched me huff and puff and die while he brought in boxes of his own without breaking a sweat, or increase my chances of having an actual heart attack while he stood out here with his perfectly capable—and quite frankly,perfect, period—muscles? I’d probably keel over either way. But if he helped me, it would be fewer trips and a slightly better chance of survival.
Would his help rack up even more karma points against me? You betcha. But that was a problem for Future Dekker. Present Dekker wanted to live.
I sighed, resigning my future self to deal with the karmic fallout later. “In that case, yes, please. I’d appreciate the help.”
But I wouldnotlet him carry that stupid clear tub. Not on my pathetic, completely-out-of-shape life.
Like I predicted, he hefted even the heaviest boxes of cooking utensils and cookbooks with ease, despite his more formal attire. It would’ve been incredibly distracting, had I not been fighting to keep my wheezing from blowing the building down.
By the last trip, sweat slicked down my back in the grossest way possible, and my curls frizzed like Mufasa had stuck a fork in a light socket. The Michigan humidity was no joke, especially so close to not one, buttwoof the Great Lakes. You’d think you’d get a break from it at night, but nope. That was when the vampire mosquitoes came out and you suddenly wanted the sun back again.
I sagged into the couch with a sigh of relief, not even caring that it creaked and groaned like it was one pound away from collapsing. I got what I paid for, and what I paid for was a pre-furnished apartment I could afford without a roommate. I would’ve roomed with someone, but my schedule clashed with anyone who wanted a social life. And, after rooming with my sister for almost a year, no other roommate would be able to measure up.
“That should do it.” He clapped his hands together, brushing them off like he could rid himself of my germs. Which was fair. His eyes panned around the room, pointedly looking anywhere but at me before glancing at his watch. “Do you need anything else?”
I swallowed hard, my heart sinking. He couldn’t even stomach looking at me. I was already holding him up, and he clearly had places to go, counting down the minutes until his gentlemanly upbringing would allow him to leave.
“Nope. Thank you so much for your help.” And I meant it. It was worth the karmic points, because I definitely would’ve died if I had to lug everything up and down the stairs myself. “You can get on with the rest of your evening now. I can walk you out.”
“Canyou?”
I would’ve been offended if I’d had the energy. But I didn’t. Let him get his jabs in now. My legs and arms were already noodles. “Good question. I think so?”
“Don’t strain yourself on account of me.” He motioned over his shoulder toward the door. “I know my way around here.”
Right. He lived in one of the buildings here. Now I had to walk him out so I could see exactly which one and avoid it like the plague. And also make sure he didn’t sneak any snakes into my vents or something.
“No, really.” I only groaned a little as I peeled myself off the couch. “I insist.”
He watched as I ambled over like a grandma without a walker, waiting by the open door. “You really don’t have to. I don’t have far to go.”
I waved my hand, finally starting to catch my breath. “Nonsense. It’s the least I can do after you’ve helped me move in.”
Literally. Considering what I’d done, I should be throwing him a parade and winning the lottery for him. But, at least this was a start to try to tip the karma scales a little.
He shrugged, amusement twinkling in his eyes at my expense.
I followed him out, though we only made it to the next door before he stopped. Was he waiting for me to go back? I could at least manage to walk him to the stairs. I wasn’tthatfar gone. Yet.
And then he pulled out his keys. “This is me. Like I said, I didn’t have to go far.”
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. This couldnotbe happening. Certainly the karma gods weren’t cashing in my debts already. Not this way.
But when his key slid effortlessly into the lock, my fate was sealed. It was real. Painfully, horribly, unavoidably real.
He flashed a wicked grin, scheming up ways to torture me already. “Welcome to the building,neighbor.”
two
Thewallsweretoothin.
The ones between my apartment and Max’s were, anyway, though the walls that bordered my other neighbor were magically soundproof. Every toilet flush, rush of water, creak of the floorboards—I was convinced he could hear them.
Logically, I knew he had better things to do than deduce my evening routine from the seemingly endless back and forth as I searched for my bedding in the various boxes. I really did. And, logically, I knew he probably couldn’t hear my sound machine or my failed attempts to spit my toothpaste out gracefully when bedtime rolled around at seven-thirty. But none of that kept me from lying awake on the lumpy mattress and staring at the ceiling. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I’d really only interacted with Max once before today, yet it had been enough. In the span of an hour or so, I’d managed to ruin his life.
That had to be some sort of record, right?
