by Amy Cook
“You fixed it.” There was no denying the awe or hero worship in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. This bike had come to be the physical embodiment of all her dreams and hopes. The fact that he would be kind enough not only to return it to her, but to also repair it was staggering to her. He shrugged as though it were no big deal.
“Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.” Whether he counted her as a friend or not, he’d just earned himself one for life. Especially since he’d clearly had to walk the bike the entire way here after fixing it for her. He shifted from his casual stance, distractedly rubbing the back of his neck as though he didn’t know what to do with her appreciation. He dug a hand into his back pocket and produced a shiny card, holding it out for her to take. She stood, taking the card. Tears threatened again when she realized it was Tandy’s business card. She fought the tears back, refusing to give him the impression that she was a complete cry baby.
“Pop said he forgot to give it to you so y’all could call him. Gave it to me before he left town to drop it off for ya.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then back again. If she didn’t know better she would think Aviator Guy was actually nervous around her. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but she suddenly smiled with an idea.
“Do you like pancakes?” His head pulled back slightly, clearly surprised at her huge leap in conversation.
“Sure.”
“They’re my favorite. Come do me a favor and try my new recipe. I’m making some right now.”
“Ain’t it kinda late in the day for that, kid?”
“Never,” she replied adamantly. “Breakfast is an any time of the day kind of food.” After all, it was only noon, and Amiel could eat breakfast for three meals a day. He opened his mouth then shut it, shifting on his feet once more. She smiled and started pushing her bike to the gates, hoping he would follow.
“Come on. I promise, they’ll change your life.” His jaw clenched as he looked at the open road behind him, then back at her. She simply grinned and kept pushing the bike. Finally he sighed and followed, his long strides catching up to her in no time. He leaned over, gently but firmly taking control of her bike and pushing it the rest of the way to the gates. Jim moved forward to stop him for the typical blood testing. Harley stood at his full height, cold smile in place that would make the grim reaper shiver. Jim’s eyes widened, and just like that the guards stepped back letting him pass without a word. Amiel’s jaw dropped.
“Wow, you must have some sort of VIP status tattooed to your forehead. They didn’t even try to tag you. I get checked every time I come home and I know them on first name basis.”
“Somethin’ like that.” His lips quirked in that same ‘inner joke’ kind of way that they had last night. She found herself hoping he’d one day let her in on some of these inner jokes of his. For now she’d just be satisfied to sit back and watch the cute things they did to his smile. Once the bike was safely tucked away, they headed for the door. She noticed that each step he took toward her apartment made him appear like a trapped animal on the verge of panic. She was getting the idea that Harley was a lot like his dad, only clearly more antisocial. The thought made her smile. Harley looked at her quickly.
“What?” The edge of nervousness just below the surface of his words confirmed her suspicions.
“Oh, nothing! Just looking forward to those pancakes.” She grinned over at him as they reached the top landing. Darvey’s door clicked open, then to her utter surprise, slammed shut. She grinned up at Harley, nudging him with her elbow. “Harley, I think I’m going to have to have you over more often.” He paused, bewildered. She smirked, opening her door and holding it wide for him to follow.
She headed straight inside and began warming the skillet and griddle, leaving him to follow as he chose. She was pouring round mounds of batter onto the griddle by the time he finally came in the rest of the way. He seemed to hesitate at the door, trying to decide whether he should close it or leave it open. Finally he closed it, glancing at her as though checking to see if he’d made the right choice. She pretended not to notice, focusing on the food. He rubbed uncomfortably at his neck, glancing around her small apartment. Finally she felt his eyes settle on her.
“Did I wake you? I didn’t think about y’all workin’ the late shift. I shoulda come later.” Her cheeks warmed slightly, reminded of the fact that she was still in her pajamas. Luckily it was a pair of her more modest and less embarrassing pjs. And it was sweet of him to think of her sleep schedule.
“No, I’m glad you came when you did. I’ve been awake for a while now. And breakfast is always better when you can share it with someone. Don’t you think?” He rolled his shoulders.
“Don’t know. I guess so.” He looked uncomfortable with his answer, leaving her to wonder if he didn’t eat breakfast with anyone very often either. Honestly, she couldn’t back up her own statement. She’d rarely eaten breakfast with her mother, and when she did it was certainly never an enjoyable experience. But she hoped to start a new life and have lots of new experiences to replace the ones she’d missed out on.
“Well, I guess we’ll find out won’t we.” She smiled. He nodded again, rolling out his shoulders and shifting his balance. He had a lot of little nervous ticks she was noticing. She’d always had a penchant for honing in on details that most people didn’t typically notice, but she seemed particularly adept at finding Harley’s. Amiel frowned, wondering if it was altogether appropriate for her to be so tuned into him. Or was it? Friends did stuff like that all the time, didn’t they? Understand each other on an almost intuitive level without having to say a word? She’d like to think they were becoming friends. Of course, she hadn’t really known him long enough to be able to lay claim to such a deep level of understanding, did she? She had just met him after all. Which led her to wonder if she had been too bold in inviting him up for pancakes. Friends had breakfast together all the time…but in each other’s apartments? Amiel sighed in frustration. The years of Malinda’s constant haranguing had her second guessing everything she did around Harley. Her mother had given her ‘slut complex.’
“Somethin’ wrong?” Harley’s voice startled her from her mommy issues, and she waved it away.
“Oh no, no problem at all. Do you like eggs and bacon? Sausage?”
“Sure.” She smirked. As far as words go, less definitely seemed to be more in Harley’s opinion. He suddenly cleared his throat.
“Y’all need better locks. Pathetic thing wouldn’t keep nothin’ out.” He poked at the lock accusingly.
“Oh, I know. I planned on getting some new ones when I moved in, I just haven’t had the chance yet.” He grunted, still staring at the locks as if they had wronged him in some horrible way. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“How’s your neighbors ‘round here?”
“Mostly good, I think. Haven’t met many, but most of them seem to be elderly.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. The TV was on, but she was still paranoid. “Though I have to admit, there are a few…interesting ones that I could do without.” She shrugged smiling brightly. “But it could be much worse.” His attention shifted to the wall that separated her and Darvey’s apartments. She wondered if he was remembering the slammed door at their approach earlier, and mentally adding up that this neighbor was one of the annoying ones. He said nothing, just gave another grunt and turned to glare at the locks again. At least she assumed he was glaring. It was kind of hard to tell with those darn glasses still on.
She set about cooking in a comfortable silence, letting him adjust to being trapped in her apartment and glare at her locks all he liked. It was just nice having a friend around. Eventually he stopped poking at her lock and slowly made his way closer into the kitchen, edging towards the delicious smells emanating from the food.
“You like…cookin’?” He seemed to be trying hard to make small talk, and it made her heart happy
“Oh I love it. It’s kind of new for me, though. I never really got to do much of it back home. How about you?”
“Naw, don’t cook much.” He grunted and fell back into silence, simply watching her cook. She wondered if he lived on frozen meals the way his dad did. If that was the case, her pancakes really would change his life. It wasn’t long before she had a plate for him, heaped high with her special pancakes, sausage, eggs, and bacon. He grabbed his fork, but stopped with a bite half way to his mouth. With a frown he lowered the fork to the plate. She grinned. He really was a lot like his dad. He was waiting for her food to be done before he started his own.
“You can go ahead and eat. Mine will be done in just a few.” He shook his head, silently waiting. She quickly shoveled some eggs on her plate and took a bite, glancing at him from the corner of her eye with a devilish smirk. He nodded, the bite of eggs seeming to be enough to ease the dictations of his manners. Her day was completely made when he gave a little growly sound upon taking his first bite of her food.
“Like it?”
“Real good,” he muttered before grabbing another bite.
“Thank you.” She smiled proudly, reveling in the way he was digging into her creation. To be honest, this wasn’t a new recipe. It was one she had spent the last two months perfecting. But it had been a good excuse to show him thanks for everything he’d done to help her out. And since she was currently being honest with herself, it had been a good excuse to sneak a little more time into convincing him to be her friend. Wow that’s pathetic Amiel. What is wrong with you? Coercing a guy into your apartment with food, just to force him into being your friend, she mentally scolded herself. Pathetic or not, she was really lonely, and last night proved Harley would make a great friend to have in your corner. He hadn’t even known her, and he’d faced off with six dangerous thugs for her, not to mention what he’d done for her bike. She could definitely do much worse in the department of friends, and she had for most of her life.
“So, back to the subject of sleep. How did you get any, fixing my bike up the way you did? It looks amazing by the way. I can see that you got your father’s artistic ability.” Grabbing her own pancakes she sat back and waited for his reply. He paused mid-bite, then shrugged.
“Don’t know ‘bout that. Just don’t sleep much.”
“Oh. Do you have insomnia?”
“Somethin’ like that.” And that was that. His aviators reflected her image back at her, a more effective barrier than any wall. She nibbled on her lip for a minute, debating. Finally she put her plate down and walked to his side. He froze when she stepped in front of him. She offered a crooked smile, a finger rising to cautiously pull his glasses down, just enough to see his eyes. Their depths hit hers with an almost physical force and she lost her breath a little. The way his gaze dropped to her mouth, he must have heard it, too.
“You always wear those things?” She smiled jauntily, trying to cover up the embarrassing reaction, before giving him space to ignore her not so subtle hint if he so wished. He stood perfectly still in that way of his, and she could see him mentally working through the pros and cons. Pulling the glasses off he stared at them for a long moment, before slowly tucking them inside his jacket. She took her silent victory, moving to grab him a drink out of the fridge.
“Orange juice, milk, or water?”
“Water, please.” She poured some from her water filtering pitcher in the fridge and turned to give it to him. His eyes suddenly widened, gaze fastened to her neck before turning into statue man again. It was a little creepy how perfectly still this man could be. She almost expected pigeons to start landing on his head at any moment. She guessed that the strange formatting of his glasses hadn’t revealed the ugly bruises she was currently sporting. Amiel flushed, rubbing at the bruises self-consciously.
“Yeah, pretty ugly huh? Itches like crazy, too.” He stood straight, placing his plate on the counter, never once taking his eyes off of the bruises. Now it was her turn to stand perfectly still as he came to stand at her side, fingers carefully running along the bruises in a purely medically familiar fashion. She failed miserably, legs shaking in their efforts to keep her from turning into a puddle in the middle of the kitchen floor. No matter how professional he was in his examination, her hormones might as well have been doing somersaults and cheers. What was wrong with her? She never reacted this way to other guys. It had to be the damsel in distress crush she had formed last night, back in full play.
“Hurt to touch it?” he mumbled, fingers gently grazing the tender flesh as he examined the dark smudges. She swallowed hard, shaking her head. “How ‘bout talkin’, that hurt much?” She shook her head again. It really didn’t hurt to talk. She quite simply didn’t trust her voice at the moment. His eyes rose to meet hers, locking with them. She’d thought Tandy’s gaze had been intimidating, but his son’s was far more penetrating than his Father’s had ever been. It was like he was reaching a hand right down into her soul, grabbing a handful of it and demanding all of its attention. Of course, a good deal of that was probably the fact that she found his son a lot more attractive. Harley suddenly blinked, pulling his fingers away from her neck and retreated to the far end of the kitchen. Grabbing up his plate he didn’t meet her eyes again, focusing solely on the food.
“Looks like it’ll heal up fine.” Finishing his food in record time, Harley immediately went to the sink and washed out his plate. Rough around the edges, but still the gentleman. She had to admit, she rather liked that about him.
“Y’all work tonight?” he asked over his shoulder. Her eyes jerked upwards, a flush spreading across her whole body. She hadn’t even realized her gaze was tracking places that were definitely not appropriate until he’d spoken. What was wrong with her, ogling him in her kitchen? Honestly! What was next, going in for a pinch? She gave herself a mental slap. Friends don’t ogle or pinch, Amiel!
“Uh, yeah, I am. I work most nights.” Turning around, his brow rose, likely wondering about the source of her current shade of tomato skin. She smiled innocently and he shook his head, probably marking her down for completely weird in his book.
“Got a minute? Gotta show ya somethin’ before I leave.”
“Of course.” She grabbed a piece of bacon from her plate before following him. Not two steps outside the door she heard her neighbor’s door open. She wrapped an arm through Harley’s, silently pulling him forward in an effort to escape.
“Harley.” They both froze. Amiel nearly groaned. Darvey knew Harley? Or had he just heard her saying his name through the paper thin walls. A girl could hope. Only when Harley saw who it was, he did groan.
“Uh…Demby, right?” Darvey’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Darvey.”
“Right. What can I do for ya, Darby?” Amiel couldn’t help but smile. He reminded her so completely of Tandy in that moment, it was almost laughable. Darvey wasn’t impressed.
“What are you doing here?” He didn’t beat around the bush, and Amiel found that she didn’t at all appreciate his rude and demanding tone.
“We were having breakfast actually.” She let him come to his own conclusions, biting down on the piece of bacon she’d brought along. She’d let him think anything if it meant dissuading the guy from his constant lurking. She just hoped she wasn’t also ruining her chances of friendship with Harley in the process. Would he be mad at her for letting Darvey think something more was going on between them than it was? Would he think her too free and easy, or that she was actually expecting that kind of lifestyle with him?
“Breakfast?” Darvey repeated, as though he didn’t understand the concept.
“Yep. Is there something wrong with that?”
“It’s noon.” He stared at Amiel’s arm looped through Harley’s, and her pajamas. Amiel could see Darvey putting his conclusion together in a light that was less than satisfying in his eyes. Harley suddenly leaned over, plucked the bacon from her grasp, and stuffed it in his own mouth. Amiel stared as he chewed, sur
prised and yet more than pleased that he seemed to be playing along with her unspoken plan.
“Didn’t ya know, Dervish? Breakfast is an any time of the day kind of food.” He sucked his fingers clean, not once glancing in her direction. His eyes stayed locked with Darvey’s, like they were stuck in some sort of male testosterone battle. Amiel could feel the tension of his muscles beneath her arm. How exactly did these two know each other? Finally Darvey looked away.
“We’ll talk about this later.”
“No, we won’t,” Harley stated firmly. Darvey grumbled, but backed up to his door, then turned and waltzed inside, slamming it.
“Wow. He’s always been kind of up in my face, but I’ve never seen that side of him before. You two must have quite the history, huh?” Amiel looked up at Harley, still slightly off balance by the whole ordeal. Blushing, she slowly pulled her arm free of its choke hold on his. He barely seemed to notice, his gaze locked grimly on Darvey’s door. When he turned around his eyes’ pupils were dilated, and they held a fiery determination.
“See him often?”
“Several times a day,” she lamented.
“Y’all still wanna train?” Amiel’s eyes nearly popped out, completely thrown off guard with the subject change.
“Train? Yes, definitely, of course.” And after last night’s events proving just how vulnerable she was, she was absolutely ready.
“Won’t be easy,” he warned, eyes pinning her to the spot, digging deep as though trying to see if she had the mettle to handle it.
“That’s okay,” she excitedly reassured him. He pointed at her neck.
“Won’t go easy on ya, either. Point is to train ya for real life fights. Mean’s y’all are gonna get a lot more of those on the way. Everywhere.” It took her a minute to realize he meant her bruises.
“I understand.” He shifted his shoulders, then nodded and headed for the door.
“I’ll let you know when we start.” He paused at the stairs, then turned when he realized she wasn’t following.