Page 39 of Rootbound
Charlie studies me for a second longer than is comfortable.
“Did you see Tait tonight?” he asks.
“Uhhh, yeah, she came by and had dinner with Grady, and I. Grady and me—and I.”
“Don’t hurt yourself there.” He chuckles. “Did she bring you up to speed?”
Oh, fuck me. Why does that sound dirty? Shit. Shit. Shit. “On what exactly?”
“I told her you’d show her around and go through the production schedule with her.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, of course I will. Are you sure she’s ok with that?”
He frowns at me. “She didn’t take an issue with it when I told her earlier. Why wouldn’t she be? You guys seemed… friendly?”
“Yes—yeah, totally. We’re good. Is Duane going to shit when I can’t be around for all the pre-production setup, though?” I’m not sure why I’m trying to find reasons not to, but it’s clear that Charlie wants her to be looked out for, and all the plans I had for her a minute ago were not exactly what I would callnice,making me feel like an utter piece of shit at the moment.
Oh, God… Ithrewher across the pond.
“He’ll be fine. He doesn’t even know she’s here yet. How is she?”
Probably spitting mad and ready to gut me. “She seemed good.”
“Good. Good. Okay. Thanks.”
I start walking to the house when he steps around me toward the end of the dock.
“Charlie, uh—”
“You forgot your other towel.” He bends down and picks it up. Then he looks over at me, then out over the pond with a frown. He remains there for a second, contemplating. But if he has any suspicions, he lets them lie, walking back and handing me the towel with a look I can’t decipher.
“Goodnight, Henry.”
“’Night.”
“Henry?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let this heatwave get to your head… People always seem to get stir crazy when they’re overheated.”
I nod, feeling my face tighten.
Oh God… I fuckingthrewher across the pond.
As soon as the truck is out of sight I slip my feet into boots and rush over to Tait’s cabin. The light is on now at her place, so I know she must have snuck back. I almost burst through the door, but figure it’d be prudent to knock first.
“Tait?” I call when she doesn’t come. Finally, I hear footsteps, and the door swings open. She leans against the doorway casually, if not a little awkwardly, blocking me from coming in, and says, “What’s up?”
“Uhhh—I’m sorry about… back there. I just didn’t want them to see you. I didn’t thinkyou’dwant them to see you.”
“Probably for the best.” She looks right at me with a shrug. Ah. I see. That’s how we’re going to play this. I suddenly feel stupid standing here in my towel, flustered and panicked while she is so unaffected. I let myself take her in again—she’s changed into a Willie Nelson T-shirt that reaches mid-thigh, each ofwhich has a cute freckle in almost exactly the same spot, I’m now noticing. She’s taken down her wet ponytail and washed her face, which now wears a look of icy indifference instead of the undone one I was losing myself to just minutes ago.
“Did you need anything?” she asks, pulling me out of my reverie, away from the freckles I’d veered off to again.
Did I read things this wrong? I must have. But no way did I read her sounds, her returning kiss, or the way she grabbed me wrong.…
“Are you going to just stand there and brood or do you have something you feel you need to say?” she says, shrill now.