Page 43 of Savored Innocence

When I get to her apartment, the door is propped open.

“One second! I’m coming!” Her voice carries from inside the apartment. I stand at the doorway and fold my arms over my chest. What the hell is she doing?

From where I stand, I hear the doorbell ring inside.

“Oh, c’mon,” I hear her grumble and through the small opening between the door frame and the door, I see her arm lash out and she smacks the wall, the buzzer downstairs blasts. She still hasn’t noticed me.

The door downstairs opens, and quick footsteps make their way up the stairs. Finally, she swings open her door. Her eyes meet mine and she jumps back a foot.

“Roman!” She presses her hand to her chest. “You scared me. I thought you were the food delivery guy.”

“That’s me! I’m here.” A short black-haired boy steps up next to me. He probably wants me to get out of his way, but I’m not budging.

She gives a disgruntled look and reaches around me with cash folded up in her hand. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He hands her a cardboard box with cartoon characters on it as well as a coffee. A happy meal. She’s had a happy meal delivered to her.

I glare down at the guy when he lingers. She’s in a pair of short boxers and an oversized t-shirt. Her hair is all mangled in a bun on top of her head.

“You’ve made your delivery. Go,” I say, and he jumps into action, hurrying down the stairs again.

“You don’t have to be rude,” she admonishes. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Isn’t that something you should askbeforeyou let someone into your building?” I ask her. “You had no idea it was me, and yet you just buzzed me right in.”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “I thought you were that guy bringing me my dinner.” She holds up the happy meal as though it should explain everything to my satisfaction.

“It’s nine-thirty. You’re only eating dinner now?” Every answer she gives me produces more questions.

“I had something earlier.” She steps back into her apartment, swinging the door open wider. “Do you want to come in, or should we have this full conversation in the hallway so Mrs. Newberry upstairs can hear us?”

“Hmm, if you keep up this attitude, Mrs. Newberry is going to hear more than a conversation.” I move inside, taking the door from her grasp and shutting it behind me. I check the door to be sure it’s secure once I slide the deadbolt then turn around to face her.

No wonder she’s only in a t-shirt and shorts. It’s sweltering in here.

“Why do you have the heat so high?” I ask as I unbutton my coat.

“I don’t.” She sighs and glares at the radiator under the windows overlooking the street below. “The knob’s stuck and I can’t get it to turn down.”

I pull off my gloves and shove them into my pockets. “Did you call the landlord?”

“He’s not available until tomorrow. He said just to open the windows. Why are you here, Roman?”

I raise an eyebrow. “But they aren’t open.”

Another heavy sigh. “No, because those two are painted shut. The one in my bedroom is open but it’s not helping in here.” She leans her hip against the couch. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

I give her a onceover glance. “Sit down and eat your dinner. I’ll look at the radiator.” I drop my coat over the arm of the couch.

“It’s not that bad. I can wait for the landlord tomorrow.”

Shooting her a glare gets her to stop protesting, but she doesn’t sit down either. I point to the couch. “Sit there and eat.”

A blush hits her cheeks and she eases herself onto the couch. For the first time I notice the television. It’s paused on an animated movie—a princess movie.

“I was just flipping through,” she mutters her lie when she catches me looking. She quickly finds the remote and turns the television off.

“That’s one, little girl.” I squat down in front of the aged radiator. An apartment building my uncle and father renovated when I was in high school had radiators instead of forced air. I learned a little about them when I helped tear them out in order to put in a new heating system.

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