Walked into that shop where — I learned later — it was nearly impossible to get a job. I showed Joel a couple of my sketchbooks, and he hired me on the spot. Even offered me a place to stay, helped me get clean.
People may call me Tricky, but the best things in my life have come to me by sheer luck.
The door opened behind me, and I closed my sketchbook, looking over my shoulder to find Rose with her bag in the crook of her elbow, foot on the door as she pulled her key out of the lock.
“You’re still here.” It wasn’t an accusation or a question, though I couldn’t quite place her tone, like she was happy and pissed at the fact.
I stretched. “Just about to go to bed. How was Habits?”
She set her bag on the table and took a seat in the armchair., propping her boots on the coffee table. “Good. The usual.”
I watched her twist up her hair, noting that she was concentrating a little too hard for such a simple task — lip between her teeth, eyes narrowed with focus. I realized then that she was drunk.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” she said as she settled into the chair.
I leaned forward to set my sketchbook on the table by her feet, glancing up the line of her legs to meet her eyes. Mine lingered there. “Yeah, sorry. It was just getting late, so I figured why leave and then come right back?”
“I have a date tomorrow,” she blurted, looking somehow nervous and determined all at the same time.
My heart stopped for a long moment, though my face was still as I leaned back to settle into couch again. “Okay.”
Her cheeks flushed as she picked something invisible off the arm of the chair. “Not that I need your permission, or anything. I just thought you should know, you know? Like you staying here doesn’t mean—”
I smirked, covering for the fact that she’d called me out. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
Her mouth opened and closed again, and my smirk climbed. Stone-cold Rose, caught off guard. I wondered if it was my lucky day.
“I know what it doesn’t mean, Rose. Funny that you’d assume I didn’t, though,” I joked.
Her flush deepened. “It’s not like that. I just wanted to say it out loud.”
“I get it. I wasn’t planning on making a move.”
It was true. I hadn’t planned on it, but I wouldn’t ignore an opportunity. I’d never admit that to her, though, and she needed reassurance that I wasn’t going to make it weird. So that’s exactly what I gave her. “Look, it’s been long enough that we’ve danced around each other like this. Maybe we can find our new normal. Move on.”
I said it like it was simple, but it was just another lie to keep us both standing.
I veered us away from that subject and into the last thing I wanted to talk about. But I had to play it cool, pretend I was fine with it. I had a feeling I’d be doing a lot of pretending in the days to come. “So, a date, huh? You excited?”
She relaxed into her chair at the mention, looking a little weary. “I don’t even know, man. Mostly, I’m nervous. It’s been a while.” Her eyes darted to mine, like she’d forgotten for a second it was me she was talking to.
I stared at her bottom lip where it was pinned between her teeth — lips that were mine. Lips that had said words I wished they would utter again. Lips that had smiled only for me, that had kissed my own, that had delivered her to me.
Lips that were my deliverance.
Lips that could be kissing some other guy within twenty-four hours.
I smiled reassuringly through the fire in my ribs. “I know the feeling. What’s his story?” I asked, not wanting to know.
“He’s an artist named Steve. I don’t know too much else.”
“What’s his medium?” I was genuinely interested, only because I hoped it was something I could hold against him.
“Not sure, though I know he makes furniture at least.”
I nodded, impressed despite myself. “Lots of math, which is why I never got
People may call me Tricky, but the best things in my life have come to me by sheer luck.
The door opened behind me, and I closed my sketchbook, looking over my shoulder to find Rose with her bag in the crook of her elbow, foot on the door as she pulled her key out of the lock.
“You’re still here.” It wasn’t an accusation or a question, though I couldn’t quite place her tone, like she was happy and pissed at the fact.
I stretched. “Just about to go to bed. How was Habits?”
She set her bag on the table and took a seat in the armchair., propping her boots on the coffee table. “Good. The usual.”
I watched her twist up her hair, noting that she was concentrating a little too hard for such a simple task — lip between her teeth, eyes narrowed with focus. I realized then that she was drunk.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” she said as she settled into the chair.
I leaned forward to set my sketchbook on the table by her feet, glancing up the line of her legs to meet her eyes. Mine lingered there. “Yeah, sorry. It was just getting late, so I figured why leave and then come right back?”
“I have a date tomorrow,” she blurted, looking somehow nervous and determined all at the same time.
My heart stopped for a long moment, though my face was still as I leaned back to settle into couch again. “Okay.”
Her cheeks flushed as she picked something invisible off the arm of the chair. “Not that I need your permission, or anything. I just thought you should know, you know? Like you staying here doesn’t mean—”
I smirked, covering for the fact that she’d called me out. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
Her mouth opened and closed again, and my smirk climbed. Stone-cold Rose, caught off guard. I wondered if it was my lucky day.
“I know what it doesn’t mean, Rose. Funny that you’d assume I didn’t, though,” I joked.
Her flush deepened. “It’s not like that. I just wanted to say it out loud.”
“I get it. I wasn’t planning on making a move.”
It was true. I hadn’t planned on it, but I wouldn’t ignore an opportunity. I’d never admit that to her, though, and she needed reassurance that I wasn’t going to make it weird. So that’s exactly what I gave her. “Look, it’s been long enough that we’ve danced around each other like this. Maybe we can find our new normal. Move on.”
I said it like it was simple, but it was just another lie to keep us both standing.
I veered us away from that subject and into the last thing I wanted to talk about. But I had to play it cool, pretend I was fine with it. I had a feeling I’d be doing a lot of pretending in the days to come. “So, a date, huh? You excited?”
She relaxed into her chair at the mention, looking a little weary. “I don’t even know, man. Mostly, I’m nervous. It’s been a while.” Her eyes darted to mine, like she’d forgotten for a second it was me she was talking to.
I stared at her bottom lip where it was pinned between her teeth — lips that were mine. Lips that had said words I wished they would utter again. Lips that had smiled only for me, that had kissed my own, that had delivered her to me.
Lips that were my deliverance.
Lips that could be kissing some other guy within twenty-four hours.
I smiled reassuringly through the fire in my ribs. “I know the feeling. What’s his story?” I asked, not wanting to know.
“He’s an artist named Steve. I don’t know too much else.”
“What’s his medium?” I was genuinely interested, only because I hoped it was something I could hold against him.
“Not sure, though I know he makes furniture at least.”
I nodded, impressed despite myself. “Lots of math, which is why I never got
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