chapter four.

The white warehouse covered an entire corner lot with dusty landscape full of sunburnt and spotty weeds. We sat in a scene from Goodfellas, but Motor City Style.

"Is this a set up? A hit? Are you going to steal my car?"

"Well…" She hesitated, narrowed eyes. "I do need a car… since mine was stolen." The last bit we said in goofy jinx.

"Do you want this car? You can have it." I dropped the keys into her palm, smiling wide, secretly dead serious.

"Shut up. I don't want this mess. And your current privilege is really loud right now." Noted.

I grabbed my gym bag from the trunk and followed her past a mural wall towards the back of the building. We went around the corner into an oddly well-kept courtyard complete with an expansive concrete pad, two expensive basketball hoops and a few random bright metal chairs, taking it in quick through the heavy rain.

"This is home?" We climbed a spiraling set of weak slippery stairs.

"Yep!"

We entered an expansive open, finished space stretching the entire second floor of the building. The inside in complete contrast to the outside. Each pseudo room opened to the next... the living to an office, the office to a kitchen and a bedroom in between. Large, modern art hung on every white painted wall and seemingly high end marble covered the kitchen surface. It was her own specific version of current privilege, but the obvious effort to live grateful blurred the expensive aesthetic. I couldn't bring myself to judge, I just wanted to know more. "Welcome!"

"Wow. I really thought I was living the life in my old Victorian on the lake." I took in the dark beams overhead. "This puts my rental in Jasper to shame."

"Of course you have an adorable Victorian on the lake…" She whispered to herself, pulling vegetables from the fridge.

"This is really impressive, Bella. You don't play around, do you?"

She mocked a muscle flex and tossed her sandals away from the kitchen. "My grandfather was into commercial real estate and my brother had some gourmet nonsense plans for it. But he chickened out. Worried about the neighborhood not really turning over." More eye rolling. "I personally love the neighborhood just like it is." She set two Coronas on the marble counter.

"Did you do all the renovating yourself?" I opened both bottles, handing her one.

"Pretty much." She moved to wash and slice a lime. "My dad helped some with the structural stuff and my brother… he and his boyfriend were all up in my business with the their vision. But…" She handed me a wedge. "We only get along for about an hour, two tops and then we're all hateful, accusing each other of bad taste and ruining each other's lives. So, yes. I'll take the design credit." She tapped her bottle top against mine.

"I can't imagine you not getting along with anyone."

She stilled, the bottle resting at her mouth, we mirrored genuine, knowing smiles. It was a heady, hot minute that I definitely didn't mind hanging in.

"I have my moments... So, if you want to grab a shower, the bathroom is over in the corner."

"Oh. Yeah. I should do that."

"There's towels under the sink. I'm going to get going on this dinner…"

The shower was a trickle tease as was the strong sweet smell of her soaps. I debated between honey or lavender, lost in the thought of her shower after mine. I stroked myself over once, twice then again to soothe the ache that burned since she'd walked into Sonny's. Fuck. I breathed through the urge to finish, anxious to be near her again. Clean gym shorts, no shirt. Oh damn well.

"Does your boyfriend have a spare shirt laying around I could borrow?" I toweled over my head, leaving it to hang around my neck.

"Subtle," she choked, cucumber slice between her teeth. "No shirt. You still get service…"

"Good deal." I hung the towel over the bathroom door, moving closer to the kitchen. Music played low from the other end of the living area. "And the boyfriend…" I started working on my next beer, flexing just in case.

"Oh. He's running late. We'll save him some dinner…"

"Great." I popped a cherry tomato in my smirking mouth. "Can't wait to meet him." Her Elbow to my abs, I buckled, dramatic. The flirt and tease flowed so easy.

I say you're whatever you think you are… Watch the naysayers fall right in line…

"Avett Brothers?"

"Yeah. Feel free to change it to whatever."

"No, it's good. I like them."

"Oh yeah? Me too. It's a nice change from the Slim Shady shit Kai has on 24/7."

"I seriously doubt it's actually Slim Shady. You're showing your age."

"Whatever." She opened our second beers. "You're older than me anyway."

"Oh yeah? How do you know?"

"Because… I just do." More wide eyed challenge from my date.

"Well, this looks incredible." I braced against the counter, tightening our bubble. She melted ever so barely and bit more towards me.

"It's just this Mexican corn, tomato, summer salad thing. I figured you eat pretty healthy…" She snuck a peek across my chest. I see you.

"I am an elite athlete." More obnoxious flexing. "If I ever start working that old man coach pouch though, please call for help."

"Oh god. Okay… well, I hope this tastes as good as it looks. Or my brother is dead."

"His recipe? We should've invited him. I sipped deep, trying to slow my roll. "What can I do to help?"

"Avocados." She slipped me the knife. "And I'm going to grab a quick shower. If you left me any hot water…"

"There's hot water?" I shouted after her.

"Wow. Dissing my do it yourself plumbing? Rude." She disappeared. I missed her.

Following the remaining steps scribbled on a torn grocery bag, I chopped and assembled, then ambitiously set a small round table by a large front window. I checked a few photos taped to a mirror over her desk. Kai, Alexa, parents maybe, definitely the brother and his boyfriend, a few group shots of her classes maybe and then her... fuck, so beautiful… in Europe I figured and definitely no shirtless boyfriends.

"Awww, look at you with all this."

"Look at you…" She brought the last few things to the table; casual, cream dress dusting the floor, more skin, no straps. We sat next to, not across. "Did your mom or your sister teach you how to set a decent table?"

"How do you know I have a sister?" Busted.

She blushed, full and warm, neck to cheeks. "What? I mean, do you… have a sister or a mom?" Her hair was pulled low, not a trace of make-up, a welcome relief to my high maintenance past.

"I do. One of each."

"Story ends there?"

"They're both in Arizona."

"They moved to Arizona when you did? That's really sweet. Your own personal cheering section."

"My sister was in high school then and they just never left."

"Do you see them much now that you're back in Michigan?"

"No."

"Okay… Story ends there." The moment deepened with the damn music, the beers, the ridiculous movie scene that'd become the day. My pathetic past creeping in on solid possibility.

"God. I'm such a stupid prick sitting here half dressed, pigging out, crying about my mom." I laughed, or tried to. She stilled, staring. I knew she wanted to understand or help. "I'm not actually crying, you know."

"You're not a stupid prick, Edward. I'm… I'm just a nosey bitch. And… you know what I think…"

"What's that?"

"We should have more." She shook her empty bottle by the neck, gorgeous head in hand.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"You can sleep it off on my sofa…"

"I think… that's a horrible idea." I drained my own. "Let's do it."

We settled on the emerald green sofa both buzzing in the best of all the ways. Dishes done, Corona drunk, music smooth… I'd thankfully dodged the family bullet. But I had a basic outline on hers, do good doctor parents, diva chef brother; I also learned Brunelleschi was part of the Renaissance, Florentine to be exact, her favorite period to teach. She explained how she knew the kids wouldn't remember the dates to every period, but the pretty pictures gave them an escape. Teaching made her whole, her words. I hung on every one.

"Hey…" I whispered, bare feet touching on the coffee table, our reflection bright in the large window.

"Hey…"

"How bad is my Wikipedia page?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she mumbled, casually re-knotting her hair.

"You shouldn't believe everything you read on the internet."

"Even the good stuff?" She rocked forward, flirty smirking.

"There's good stuff?" I folded my arm behind my head, her eyes tracing the words inked on my bicep.

"I want to tell you something," she whispered, lost in the window glow.

"Sure…"

"About Kai... he watched his dad die. Violently. When he was eight. Eight. Years. Old."

"Jesus." I stroked down her back.

"His sister's in jail for drugs, his mom works herself to death on night shifts… These kids… they don't have a lot of choices. I'm so scared for him. For my whole damn school, really. I just wanted you to understand… He's been through some very dark shit, Edward. He likes to play tough, but he's fragile inside. Any attention or hope… any chance you can give him. It's a big deal. He's a really loyal kid." Alcohol made raw reality even more so. I understood that all too well. She quickly wiped tears.

"Okay… Hey… Hey, look at me." I gently gripped, she peeked over her shoulder. "You're doing good things here."

"I mean, I honestly don't know shit about basketball and he may not be as good as what you usually look for… I just... I remembered the way you were with the kids that day." She hid behind her hands. "I know. I know. It was like a hundred years ago. And I'm not a crazy stalker. Because I'm sure you have plenty of those. And I'm sure you have to be super cautious around weirdos and women that call out of nowhere… especially from hundred years ago…"

"Shhh… Bella… Hey, I can help. Will you let me help?"

"Yes… I'd be so grateful for any help… for your help. Thank you."

"You're welcome." I playfully tugged her hair, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Ugh…" She shook, smiling wide, eyes damp. "I'm not an emo art girl. I swear. I'm not. Because I know that's a thing. That's what you're thinking, isn't it?"

"Not at all." I fought the sheer urge to grab and hold her tight. I'd love to show you what I really think...

"I just have trouble getting out of my own head sometimes and… I over love. Which I don't know if that's a thing. But it has to be, because it feels like it is. And… too much to drink." Slow to stand, she dropped a furry, white pillow in my lap. "Okay, Superstar. I'm super sleepy and actually super embarrassed."

I caught her hand, thumbing across. "Don't be embarrassed. Please… I'm flattered. Really… And I'm glad you called. And I'm glad I'm here."

She tightened her hold. "If you need anything, I'll be over there."

"And I'll be right here." Lights out, lamps off, candle blown, I listened to her crawl into bed. Darkness settled, minutes ticked. "Bella…"

"Yeah…"

"How's the mattress?" Gut deep laughing cut through the quiet, open space.

"Let's trade! Now I feel really bad!" Her voice horse, from the laughs, the hour, the emotion.

"No, no I'm good." I fumbled for my cell, loaded and lit, the only glow on.

"What are you doing now?"

"Checking my Wikipedia."

"Oh my god."

a/n.

lights out. love them.

super grateful for the sweet notes. so fun chatting about these two.

weekend coronas on me. have a peaceful one.

ily tara. ramroll4ever xo