Page 93 of Show Me How
“Not at all. Last time I did was in high school, and I can’t say I took pleasure in it.”
Her clasped hands tighten against me. “So we can mark you off the list of people to ask to join the club, then.”
“That’s probably a smart idea.”
“Do you think we should do it?”
I pause at the edge of the cabin stairs. The screen door is shut, but there’s a low hum of music inside, where I know Shelly’s singing along under her breath. Lowering myself back to a crouch, I wait for Millie to slide off me before turning to face her. She adjusts the knee of her tights, drawing my eyes to her legs.
With a swallow, I force them to meet hers. “I think you should do whatever the hell you want to do. If starting a book club will make you feel more at home here, then yeah, princess. I’ll put up goddamn posters for it around town if it helps.”
There’s a warmth in her eyes that closes my throat. I watch as it spreads to her entire expression, brightening the edges of her soft smile. It’s too fucking much, honestly. The raw openness she’s showing me right now. Yet, I can’t look away. Can’t shut it down before the sight of her like this tucks itself into the achingly empty space in my chest.
Millie rolls her lips, but the twitch at the corner of them is anything but secretive. I stare at it with an intensity that I don’t care if she can feel at this moment. If she runs . . .
Her tiny hand reaches out and strokes my knuckles the same way she did that day in the laundry room. The only differencethis time is that I do the same back. Then, I slip my fingers through hers. I squeeze them and then let go, nodding toward the cabin.
“Go say goodbye, Millie.”
“Right,” she whispers, hesitating. “Are you going to walk back with me or head off now?”
I almost laugh at how obvious the answer to that question is. “I’ll be right here when you’re done. Who else is going to carry you to the car?”
“I’ve gone twenty-six years without being carried around, you know.”
“Sounds like things have changed.”
In more ways than one. And shit, I don’t think I’m hating how different they already are.
“You can dowhatever you want with this room, but I draw the line at putting up fancy-ass wallpaper.”
Millie sighs dramatically, tossing me a pleading look over her shoulder. “So I’ll need to return the pink one with the poodles and cupcakes I ordered?”
“Smartass.”
Lacey took off a few minutes ago after receiving a call to go to the shop, and I know Millie’s a bit disappointed in that. It’s why I already placed an order for pizza, making sure to cover the entire thing in pineapple instead of just half.
“The room is perfect the way it is,” she says, already reaching for the two bags of clothes we’ve dropped in here. “And I can use the entire closet?”
“I doubt I have enough hangers in there for all of your clothes, but yeah, go for it.”
She nods, attention snapping to the box on the dresser against the wall. Abandoning the bags of clothes, she scoops up the box and looks into the hallway.
“And the bathroom? Is there a certain shelf or drawer for me to use?”
“Wherever you can find room. Just try not to leave your tampons out. You know how much theyterrifyme,” I tease, stepping out of the room and toward the door opposite hers. “It’s small as fuck, though. I’m not sure how many things you’ll fit.”
Following close behind, Millie makes a noise of agreement. She moves past me and ducks into the bathroom, sweeping her eyes over it. Then, she sets the box on the counter and starts to pull things out.
Moisturizer, under-eye serum, dry shampoo, and leave-in conditioner are all names I read on the first few bottles she unpacks. For a woman who has only a single paycheque to her name, I wasn’t expecting this much. Then again, I’ve never asked how much money she brought with her.
Without hesitation, she starts opening drawers and the cupboard beneath the sink, examining the space. I hold back a laugh and lean against the door frame, crossing my arms as I watch. She slides the bigger bottles beneath the sink and organizes the smaller ones in the first drawer. When she opens the second, she glances at me, curious.
“What? Did you think I just couldn’t grow facial hair at all?” I ask.
She cracks a smile. “I wasn’t expecting a literal blade. Most men use electric shavers or those stick ones.”
“A real blade gets a closer shave.”
