Page 28 of Tank
So, I ended up watching him until the sun came up. Again. I couldn’t tell if I was pathetic or crazy. Probably both.
Finally, I unfolded myself from the chair. My legs were numb and my feet had the tingles. I made sure to step lightly as I stood up and made my way to the kitchen area. At that moment, I wished I had a coffee maker and some fresh coffee because I was sure he could use some when he woke. But I didn’t. I had juice and milk, so that was just going to have to do.
I pulled out a box of mac and cheese, remembering how pained his face looked as he ate the eggs I had made him. I may have been raised to be the cooking and cleaning woman, but that didn’t mean I did it well. Also, it could have been my subconscious trying to rebel against it all.
A groan came from the far corner of my apartment just as I was opening the thick liquid cheese to mix in. I tried my best not to stiffen as I continued the task at hand. I heard the mattress and floor creek with his movements, and since I didn’t hear his steps, I assumed he was only halfway up. I didn’t dare give him my full gaze. Thoughts of dirty things still clung to the outskirts of my brain, and at that moment my cheeks may have been a bit heated. I could always blame it on the steam from the pasta. Right?
I scooped most of the mix into a bowl. Throwing a fork in the middle of the mound, I opened the fridge and poured a glass of milk. Taking a deep breath, I finally turned around, food in hand, and walked over to the coffee table. I set the food down then took my seat again. It was then that I looked at him.
His eyes were on mine, almost bright. He cleared his throat and I jerked my head to the food. He paused for a moment and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
In one movement, he was sitting on the opposite side of the coffee table from me. He ate, looking like he was having to choke it down. I didn’t understand why—it was fucking box mac and cheese. I couldn’t see how anyone, even me, could screw that up. I didn’t let it bother me, though.
“Thanks,” he said as he downed the large glass of milk like he hadn’t had anything to drink in years.
“Is this going to be a ritual?” I asked, not sure why. There was a trace of humor under my irritation.
“What?” He cocked his head slightly, pinning me with his fucking intense eyes. “Me showing up at your bar, passing out, then you magically carrying me up here and feeding me something you try to pass off as food when I wake up?”
The corner of his lip twitched. I saw it, even though it was brief and completely covered with hair. I fucking saw it. And it was because of that small almost smile, I lost all anger that I would have had if anyone else had said some shit like that to me.
“Ahh, you think you’re funny,” I found myself saying.
Then I smiled. I fucking smiled. It may not have been a full-on, lips up to the eyes and teeth showing, but it was still an upturn of the corners. This was all wrong. I reminded myself that he was a job, a target, above anything else. Even if I was treating him like anything but.
“Wow,” he said low and gravelly. Then his face fell, becoming a weird, almost cold, mask of stone.
I wanted to know why. I wanted to know what he was thinking and the whole thing was beginning to hurt my brain.
His eyes slowly dragged away from my lips up to my eyes. I stopped breathing for a minute as we sat there in a statically charged deadlock.
“I should get out of your hair,” he said but didn’t make a move to go. My blood pulsed in my ears as I waited for him to get up. I found myself oddly excited that he hadn’t made his exit. His hand came up to push his hair back away from his face. “Did you sleep?”
I couldn’t open my mouth to answer, so I shook my head once and played it off like it was no big deal.
“I’m sorry.” His tone was sincere but there was an underlining that sounded like he was glad. Like he needed it for some reason. Maybe he really didn’t want to be alone. Maybe him coming into the bar was a call for help. But the kind that he didn’t even know he was signaling out for.
“Tell me something,” I whispered over a dry throat.
