Page 15 of Breaking Bristol

“Yeah, it was delicious,” she replied.

“Pretty much everything she makes is.”

Her attention was piqued. “Pretty much everything? What isn’t delicious?”

“Her pot roast. It’s always too salty but somehow bland and chewy at the same time.”

“How can you mess up pot roast?”

“No clue, but she does every single time.” I then added sternly, “And if you ever tell her I said that, I’ll… be mad at you.”

She zipped her lips and tossed the key over her shoulder.

I smirked and got the metal piece of the faucet off and rinsed the filter. I didn’t need to change the washer, but I still did. A minute later, I screwed it back on and tested the water, which flowed smoothly out of the tap. “There.”

“Oh wow, that was fast.”

“The filter was dirty, just needed to be washed off.”

Her nose scrunched. “Gross.”

“It’s all good now.”

“Gonna go take a look at the bathroom window, and while I’m in there, figured I’d do the same to that faucet.” I grabbed the washer and wax from my bag and went into the bathroom. I pulled out the towel she had stuffed in the crack, then lubricated the tracks. After a little bit of elbow grease, I had it shut and locked.

I didn’t hear Bristol approach, but when I turned around, she was right there as I rinsed the filter and changed the washer. “That was fast, too.” She smiled, and I could smell the bubble gum she was chewing.

Suddenly, I craved a piece, but only if it was the one that came from her mouth just so I could get it out of the way while I devoured those full pink lips. I wanted to know what other parts of her were sugary sweet, too, and then I wanted to keep that flavor on my tongue until it was the only thing I could taste.

I needed to get this shit done and get the fuck out of here. I thought I knew what I was doing, what I was feeling, but she was provoking a part of me she wasn’t ready for, and frankly, I wasn’t either.

“Closet?”

Faint lines appeared around her eyes, and she cleared her throat. “Yeah, go ahead.”

She stepped out of the way, and I opened the door to her bedroom.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but plain white walls with zero personality or decorations wasn’t it.

“I know…” she said, looking embarrassed.

“Know what?”

“It seems weird.”

I took the sliding door off to make sure the track wasn’t broken. “What’s weird?”

“My room. It’s nothing like the rest of the place.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“I just haven’t had time,” she confessed. “I keep meaning to add some color, but something else always comes up.”

I slid the door back on and opened and closed it a few times, then crossed my arms. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“How do you know how to fix all this stuff?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Grew up coming here, same shit’s been happening for years.” Not wanting to scare her, I pointed at the door she was standing in front of. “Gonna go fix the motion light now.”

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