“I don’t want Christmas decorations,” I inform her.
This time, she doesn’t argue. I can feel her watching me, but after a minute she says, “All right. Well, I’m guessing you work late so I won’t see you tonight. If you want to hang out tomorrow, let me know.”
—
I know I’m being a bastard. Three nights in a row Carly has shown up on my doorstep to see if I wanted to hang out, and three nights in a row I’ve made an excuse not to.
Since she has been trying and I have definitely been blowing her off, I shouldn’t be surprised when she doesn’t show the fourth night. I have no right to feel disappointed, but I do. Even though I’m keeping my distance from her, I kind of like seeing her, even if just for a minute when I tell her I’m busy.
I feel more relief than anything when there’s a knock on my door, night five. I assume it’s her without even checking, but thankfully it is. She’s not smiling, just neutral as I open the door and lean in the frame expectantly.
“Hey, do you have a stepladder I could borrow?”
“I do not.”
She nods, glancing me up and down. “Don’t suppose you have much need for one, huh? Then could you do me a favor and reach a box for me? When I moved in, I somehow got a box up on a shelf in my hall closet that is now only visible with binoculars. I could use a hand, if you have a minute.”
“Sure.” I figure she’s just luring me out like she usually does, not least of all because it’s 34 degrees outside and she’s wearing a pair of skin tight, navy blue leggings and a white tank top that’s cut off just below her breasts, baring that damn midriff of hers again. Instead of the messy bun she usually wears around the house, her hair is down.
I follow her inside her apartment, closing the door. It’s warm in here but she has to be freezing. She should’ve grabbed a coat, even if she was only going outside for a minute.
Leading me down the hall, she opens her closet door and takes a step back, gesturing to the shelf high above her head. “Right up there.”
Cocking an eyebrow, I have to stand on tiptoe to get a hold of it myself. “Jesus, how did you get this up here in the first place?”
“I’m assuming some sort of levitation?” she suggests. “I had movers help me with the heavy crap though, so it’s possible I asked one of them. Not that they were very tall, either. I called them Mario and Luigi. They both had awful mustaches and both were short. Anyway.” She shrugs, taking the box from me and flashing me a smile. “Thanks for the help, neighbor.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” I tell her, following her back into the living room. She deposits the box on the couch, then heads into the kitchen. Something smells delicious. Even though I’ve been avoiding her, I kind of miss her. She hasn’t asked yet, but I’m thinking of staying for dinner when she does.
I let my gaze wander down her body as she grabs a black spoon and stirs noodles, then grabs a jar of spaghetti sauce and dumps some in a smaller frying pan. Not to be an asshole, but she looks damn good in the kitchen.
“What are you making over there?” I ask her.
She answers without looking away from the stove. “Spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Nana’s recipe?”
Smiling faintly, she says, “You know it.”
She still feels a little distant. I don’t like it. It’s my fault, but I still don’t like it. “Want me to open that box for you?”
Carly glances at me over her shoulder, faintly surprised. “If you want to, sure. There’s a little Christmas tree in there, a tiny one. I want to set it up in my bedroom.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have one up in the living room yet.”
“I buy real trees. Gotta wait a little while longer. I’m not looking forward to lugging it in my apartment, to be honest.”
“We usually went with artificial. Mateo hates the pine needles from the real ones, and the ceilings at his house are so high we always had to get an enormous tree, so there were a fuck ton of pine needles.”
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you mention him in a civil tone. I feel like you deserve a gold star.”
“How about a meatball?” I suggest.
“I’ll bring some over tomorrow if I have leftovers,” she assures me.
I cock an eyebrow in surprise, eyeing up the pan full of meatballs she’s coating with sauce. “Big appetite tonight?”
“Uh, no, just expecting company.”
“Oh.” I don’t know why that surprises me. She spends so much time with me lately, I guess she hasn’t really had time to hang out with anyone else. “It Gus, isn’t it?” I joke.