Page 25 of Was I Ever Real
She stays silent for a beat before adding, “Well aren’t you going to come out and help me with my things?”
“No,” I reply with all the seriousness I can muster.
“You’re such a prick,” she hisses before hanging up on me.
I laugh to myself, pulling on some sweat cut offs and head for the stairs, half considering just staying completely naked just to see her reaction. I’m not a complete heathen, I’ll come out and help. It’s just so easy to fuck with her and trigger a reaction.
But by the time I arrive down the stairs, walk across the house, and into the foyer, she’s already trying to jostle the front door open. As if I would just keep my house unlocked and unprotected for anyone to walk in as they see fit. After quickly disarming the alarm, I open the door to find a somewhat bleary eyed and disheveled version of Lenix that I only recall seeing once before—in a suite in Vegas two years ago.
Her baggy white t-shirt is slipping off one shoulder, paired with light pink sweats and black furry slides that look more like slippers than anything else. My perusal eventually lands on a crate on the ground at her feet.
“What’sthat?” I say in disdain.
“Ewan,” she clips before shoving a duffel bag into my arms. I don’t budge, continuing to block the entrance while I glare at her.
She huffs loudly and rolls her eyes. “My cat,” she says like I’m some kind of fucking idiot.
My scoff pairs well with her dramatics. “You’re not bringing a cat into my house.”
“Watch me.” The crate now securely in her hand, she shoulder-checks me as she passes, walking all the way into the middle of the foyer before turning back around. “The deal was that I moved in. You never said anything about me not bringing Ewan with me.”
“Well if I would have known you own a feral animal, I would have stipulated it last night,” I say between clenched teeth.
She shrugs her shoulders. “Not my problem.” Bending down, she opens the caged door. “And my baby’snotferal.” The orange monstrosity in question pokes its head out, placing a tentative paw on the marble floor and I immediately hate everything about it. It gives me a crooked look that seems to say the sentiment is mutual and eventually peers up at Lenix, who picks it up off the floor.
“He’ll stay in my room, he won’t be a problem okay?” she says with a sigh.
The cat purrs loudly, trying to paw its way up her shoulder while she scratches its head. She looks so innocent then, standing there, stripped bare, eyeing me wearily like I’m about to rob her of something she actually loves.
My chest twinges and I rub it absently while I shrug the duffel bag she handed me over my shoulder. “Where’s the rest of your shit?” I ask instead.
“I’ll get it later,” she mutters while looking around. “So where’s my room?”
“Room?” I bite down the smile wrestling to get out and keep my face serious.
Lenix’s breath catches in her throat.
“You must be joking.” Her voice rising with every vowel out of her mouth.
“What did you expect?” I say, my lip curling into a mischievous grin. “We’re married aren’t we?”
Her face turns red and I half expected her to fling her pet in my face in retaliation. As much as this amuses me, I release her from her misery and laugh, cutting the tension between us.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Lenny. Upstairs, on your left—end of the hall.”
She blinks for a second too long as if rebooting and finally winds back to life.
“I hope it’s as far away as possible from yours, you insufferable twat,” she grumbles under her breath, spinning on her heels and heading for the stairs.
I hear the pads of her bare feet across the cement before seeing the rest of her. I take a peek from behind my dark shades while I sit, unmoving, on the deck chair near the pool. My throat goes dry when she finally falls into my line of sight. She looks like an actress on holiday straight out of the 1960’s.
Long black hair over one shoulder, a sheer white robe that covers absolutely nothing billowing behind her as she walks. Her one piece bathing suit—somehow sexier than a bikini—is a light shade of pink that pops against her golden brown skin, and the large-framed sunglasses that hide most of her face are perched delicately on her upturned nose.
My eyelid twitches and I look away.
She delicately slides herself down onto the deck chair beside me but says nothing, pulling her phone out of thin air and begins to scroll, ignoring me.
I’m grinding my molars, trying not to lose the little game I’ve decided we’re playing on who’s going to speak first. While I do so, I quirk my head to the side and sweep my gaze across her body. Her skin looks like it’s literally sparkling and I’m conflicted with the dual urge to lean over and taste her or ignore her as much as she is me.