around so they were once
again talking about him. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice.
“I almost forgot,” he said as he pushed his empty plate out
of the way. “I told one of my neighbors about your friends abandoning you at
the club and she gave me some clothes for you to wear. She has a teenage
daughter about your size, so they should fit okay.”
She paused, the mug of coffee halfway to her lips. “You did?
That was sweet of you.”
“I figured you wouldn’t want to wear your Christmas costume
all day. Why don’t you change while I clean up? The clothes are over there on
the couch.”
Derek thought her red and green clothes were a costume—like
the bouncer at the club. Maybe she should tell him they weren’t. Then again,
maybe not. From what she’d seen so far, BPs didn’t dress anything like elves.
“Feel free to use the phone in the bedroom if you want to
call your friends. I’m sure they’re worried about you,” Derek said as she
picked up the clothes and started for the bedroom.
Sosie nodded, but didn’t say anything. He’d think it was odd
if she told him she still had no way to contact her friends. She would have to
pretend she’d tried to call them, then tell him she hadn’t been able to get in
touch with them again.
Although she was still reluctant to take off Derek’s soft,
comfortable T-shirt, she was eager to try on the clothes his neighbor had been
kind enough to give her. The jeans fit her perfectly, even if they were snugger
than she was used to. The shirt was a little tighter than the ones she usually
wore, too, but it was still a great fit. She had no idea what an American
Idol was, but the words splashed across the front of the shirt were cool
anyway.
Hoping she looked okay, Sosie went back out to the kitchen.
Derek was putting the breakfast dishes in a small, square contraption
underneath the counter when she walked in. He glanced up, then did a
double-take.
She frowned. “What’s wrong? I look okay, don’t I?”
“You look great. Better than great, actually. It’s just
that…”
“Just what?”
“I probably should have asked you before this,” he said.
“How old are you?”
Her frown deepened. She didn’t see what her age had to do
with how great she looked in the borrowed jeans and T-shirt. “Eighty-nine.”
Derek’s mouth quirked. “Very funny,” he said as he closed
the door on the contraption he’d put the dishes in. “Seriously, how old are
you? As young as you look in those clothes, my neighbors are going to think I’m
some kind of pervert.”
She’d never heard that word before. “Pervert?”
“Yeah. You barely look eighteen in those clothes.”
Oh. So, that’s what was going on here. Sosie had forgotten
elves aged slower than BPs. She tried to remember what she knew concerning an
appropriate age for a BP woman of her appearance. She had to be at least
eighteen because that’d mean she finished school and could be out and about on
her own. She studied Derek, trying to figure out how old he was. In his
thirties, she’d say. Since she had nothing to use as a basis for comparison, it
was impossible to guess, so she finally decided to take a random grab from
Santa’s bag.
“I’m thirty…” she began, but at the look on Derek’s face,
she decided she must have guessed wrong and changed what she’d been going to
say. “Twenty…five?”
Derek arched a brow. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
She nibbled on her lower lip as she tried to gauge his reaction.
“Telling you. I’m twenty-five. I got confused for a minute. You know,
converting from…”
“From?” he prompted when she hesitated.
Figgy, she’d almost said elf years. She was going to have to
be more careful around him. “Well, it’s just that when you live as far north as
I do, the year seems a lot longer, so sometimes we don’t think about them the
way you do down here. We don’t ask each other our age very often where I come
from, either.”
He
again talking about him. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice.
“I almost forgot,” he said as he pushed his empty plate out
of the way. “I told one of my neighbors about your friends abandoning you at
the club and she gave me some clothes for you to wear. She has a teenage
daughter about your size, so they should fit okay.”
She paused, the mug of coffee halfway to her lips. “You did?
That was sweet of you.”
“I figured you wouldn’t want to wear your Christmas costume
all day. Why don’t you change while I clean up? The clothes are over there on
the couch.”
Derek thought her red and green clothes were a costume—like
the bouncer at the club. Maybe she should tell him they weren’t. Then again,
maybe not. From what she’d seen so far, BPs didn’t dress anything like elves.
“Feel free to use the phone in the bedroom if you want to
call your friends. I’m sure they’re worried about you,” Derek said as she
picked up the clothes and started for the bedroom.
Sosie nodded, but didn’t say anything. He’d think it was odd
if she told him she still had no way to contact her friends. She would have to
pretend she’d tried to call them, then tell him she hadn’t been able to get in
touch with them again.
Although she was still reluctant to take off Derek’s soft,
comfortable T-shirt, she was eager to try on the clothes his neighbor had been
kind enough to give her. The jeans fit her perfectly, even if they were snugger
than she was used to. The shirt was a little tighter than the ones she usually
wore, too, but it was still a great fit. She had no idea what an American
Idol was, but the words splashed across the front of the shirt were cool
anyway.
Hoping she looked okay, Sosie went back out to the kitchen.
Derek was putting the breakfast dishes in a small, square contraption
underneath the counter when she walked in. He glanced up, then did a
double-take.
She frowned. “What’s wrong? I look okay, don’t I?”
“You look great. Better than great, actually. It’s just
that…”
“Just what?”
“I probably should have asked you before this,” he said.
“How old are you?”
Her frown deepened. She didn’t see what her age had to do
with how great she looked in the borrowed jeans and T-shirt. “Eighty-nine.”
Derek’s mouth quirked. “Very funny,” he said as he closed
the door on the contraption he’d put the dishes in. “Seriously, how old are
you? As young as you look in those clothes, my neighbors are going to think I’m
some kind of pervert.”
She’d never heard that word before. “Pervert?”
“Yeah. You barely look eighteen in those clothes.”
Oh. So, that’s what was going on here. Sosie had forgotten
elves aged slower than BPs. She tried to remember what she knew concerning an
appropriate age for a BP woman of her appearance. She had to be at least
eighteen because that’d mean she finished school and could be out and about on
her own. She studied Derek, trying to figure out how old he was. In his
thirties, she’d say. Since she had nothing to use as a basis for comparison, it
was impossible to guess, so she finally decided to take a random grab from
Santa’s bag.
“I’m thirty…” she began, but at the look on Derek’s face,
she decided she must have guessed wrong and changed what she’d been going to
say. “Twenty…five?”
Derek arched a brow. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
She nibbled on her lower lip as she tried to gauge his reaction.
“Telling you. I’m twenty-five. I got confused for a minute. You know,
converting from…”
“From?” he prompted when she hesitated.
Figgy, she’d almost said elf years. She was going to have to
be more careful around him. “Well, it’s just that when you live as far north as
I do, the year seems a lot longer, so sometimes we don’t think about them the
way you do down here. We don’t ask each other our age very often where I come
from, either.”
He
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