“You’re an idiot. Why would I want to block you?”
“Because I’m an idiot?” He very much wanted to tell his mouth to Stop Helping Right Now.
She grinned. “The text was pitch-perfect. I don’t know why you have trouble seeing that. You’ve always been pitch-perfect with women, and I’m no exception.”
“Oh yes you are. I can’t count the ways you’re an exception. You’re one of us, you’re an Evo, you’re my best friend’s wife’s best friend, you used to bring me chili during finals when I would forget to eat—”
“You remember that?” Her mouth fell open.
He nodded. The actual events were a blur, but the advent of his state board certification had been one of the big turning points in his life, when it hit home that college was over, and if he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life working in the ice cream shop his mother managed, he’d better have a plan in mind and the will to execute it. The medieval society, the comic book club, the hours they spent playing with computers that might have run faster if they’d really been powered by hamsters—they all turned from his lifeline to silly distractions in that week.
It would be a few more years before Bailey’s proposal led him to believe that he could have his plan and his “silly diversions” together.
“Anyway.” She waved her hands. “We’re getting off the subject. I liked your text. It said you’re flexible. I’m flexible, too.” Her smile made him want to throw plans and diversions and rational thought right out the window. His fingers dug into the countertop to keep him from taking the step that would put him right up against her body again. “So I’m exercising my Option One.”
He licked his lips. Out of nerves instead of desire, because while that still burned hot, it was banked in the face of what he knew he needed to say. “Um.” He took another breath, hoping the air would somehow provide fortitude as well as life-giving oxygen. “Uh. Please listen closely, because our options have changed.”
She folded her arms and lifted an eyebrow. “Five is still Right Out, and you’re a damn liar if you say it isn’t.”
He shook his head fervently. “No way. I’m thinking more Option Two, where we table the discussion about The Thing and keep—” Keep what? ‘Having a good time’ sounded too casual, everything else sounded crude and mercenary.
“Keep ‘tabling’ our naked bodies?” She sent a pointed glance towards the island.
He almost felt guilty, except for the grin he couldn’t suppress. Counting this morning, they’d had more…adventures…on the countertop than they’d had in bed. People their age weren’t supposed to engage in gymnastics during sex. They were supposed to have already settled down into obligatory Tuesdays and Fridays scheduled in around appointments and extra sleep. Been there, done that, and I’d rather not bother at all if it’s a chore.
The very fact that neither one of them seemed worse for wear gave him an ego boost on multiple levels. His earlier thought that this might just work returned and gave him the fortitude to focus. “Yeah. Sort of.” He looked down as his reflexive grin faded. “I know you probably have a million questions. I don’t have many answers. It’s hard enough starting over without a—a Thing looming over everything, and since Five is Right Out for both of us, I can’t let the Thing take over.” He forced himself to meet her eyes. “I want to do this right with you. Take you out.” He glanced at the countertop again. “Keep you in.” And back to her eyes again. “Without letting that part of my life screw with it.”
~*~
The worst part about having a non-argument like this was that she could see both sides of it. Having grown up with superstition shoved in her face, Lin knew from experience how convenient an excuse the supernatural could be when you wanted to avoid dealing with your issues. That was why she’d promised herself never to let religion get in the way of facing unpleasant truths. Sure, it made her the party pooper when Starla wanted to light candles for prosperity and smudge sage after a bad day. It made her the voice of reason when her mother pulled her off the soccer team in high school because the school colors had too much yellow in them, and since yellow signified misfortune, it must surely be responsible for her mother losing her job at the jewelry store, and not an economic downturn patently obvious to everyone else.
But all that turned on its ear when the supernatural slapped you in the face. “Jack, you can’t just ignore it and hope it all goes away.” However, she could pointedly ignore the countertop and all its suggestive possibilities by moving away from it and onto his couch, a charcoal leather affair with interestingly-textured throw pillows and sleek, blocky cushions that dared you to try and get comfortable on them, and promised you a battle when you did.
He followed her over to the couch, both coffees in hand. “In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s kind of hard to ignore these days.” He set down the cups and glanced up into the rafters. “But I’m not letting it eat my life. Or actually, I have been letting it take over my life, but not anymore.”
She followed his glance. Yep. Definitely some movement up there. How long had he bargained for peace and quiet? Where were the boundaries of “leave me alone,” and did they depend on the flavor of ice cream offered? “Are you sure you have that choice?” She clasped her hands around one knee. “I came prepared to talk it all out, you know. I feel pretty bad about slinking off at the crack of dawn without giving us a chance yesterday morning.”
“I’m making it a choice.” He fiddled with one of the round slate coasters from the stack on the coffee table. “I wish I could say this is a mildly amusing quirk that turns annoying when a relationship goes bad for other reasons. It’s more like…having a crazy ex who refuses to believe the old relationship is over, and whom you can’t keep from coming around and sabotaging any new ones.”
Talking about crazy exes made her wonder about the end of his marriage from the inside perspective. Tabling the discussion about the supernatural world seemed like a fantastic idea, given that there were a whole host of completely mundane issues ready to sabotage whatever they tried to build between them. Come to think of it, she wasn’t quite ready to take on the mundane issues, either.
“I’ve taken steps to keep my life sane. I’m prepared to take more steps now that you’re in it. One of those steps is keeping you—” he pointed to her, “—and that—” he pointed to the rafters, where they both knew there were things that should not be there, up there, “—separated.” He leaned forward and set down the coaster. “This is not your problem. I would like you in my life for fun and—well, fun and because you like me, not to take on my problems.”
She licked her lips and nodded. “I know. Believe me, I get it.” How many times growing up had she wished to stuff the superstition? How many times had she tried? “I have some experience with this. You can’t just stuff it into a box to make it go away.” She rubbed her hands together, realized she was fidgeting, and clasped her fingers to stop. “Other parts of your life end up cut off with it. And it’s only temporary. And it’s no substitute for taking control.” She looked away, then back at him. “I’m just throwing that out there. Option Three, where we look up and say, ‘Thing? What Thing?’ is only a temporary option.”
~*~
Jack looked down. They seemed to be having a contest to see who was better at avoiding each other’s gaze. How junior high are we?
“I know.” He traced the red marks her fingers had left over his ribcage. The redness paled with a thin coating of frost. She hadn’t hurt him, but he did wonder if her touch would cause him more than superficial damage if they ever got around to touching some more. Especially certain parts that wanted to be inside other parts.
He heard rustling in the shadows above their heads. Little fuckers wasted no time in coming back, did they? What I wouldn’t give not to have to think about any of this. “I need time. These things—” He rolled his eyes upwards just in time to see the Chillsprites scurry along the girders, seeking deeper shadows away from his ire, “—and a whole h
ost of other Oddlings have no sense of boundaries. But they do have rules.” He lifted his chin. “I get to have rules, too. And they need to respect that.”
Lin followed his gaze up to the ceiling. “Have you tried giving them what they want?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. To a point.” He pushed up off the couch and went into the kitchen. He pulled out a quart of black raspberry chip from the freezer, stared at it, thought, No fucking way are they getting the good stuff, and traded it out for the store-brand butter pecan. “This—” he held up the gallon tub, “—is what bought me peace and quiet for the morning.”
She cocked her head to one side and raised her eyebrows. “Doesn’t seem like there’s a downside to me. You pay them in ice cream.”
“I pay them extortion money! No one else in the history of the world has to pay imaginary creatures ice cream in order for them to stay out of sight.”
She tipped her head so she looked over the back of the couch at him. “You don’t know that for a fact. There could be an entire ice cream-based economy, thriving just under the noses of the unsuspecting populace. By not participating, you could cause devastation throughout the imaginary dairy industry.” Her lips twitched.
He rubbed his chin. “And by participating, I’m causing devastation through my life.” He scooped out butter pecan into a dish, eyed the countertop, and hiked a knee to climb on. “Friday night’s little detour has already doubled the amount of weirdness hiding under the furniture and in the rafters.” On shaky legs, he wobbled his way up until he stood on the thin ledge in front of the sink. The pendant lamp nearly beaned him, but he shifted at the last minute and had to grab onto the cabinet for balance. “And that wasn’t even intentional on my part.” Once upright, he carefully stood on tiptoe until he could slide the bowl onto the top of the cabinet, and sent a single glare up into the rafters. Stay out of sight.
“Careful. I’d hate to have to call an ambulance. Speaking of which, what would that do, given your…special talents?”
He returned to a crouch at the speed of a glacier, his speech coming in bursts. “One of the…first things I looked into.” His ankles wobbled and he grabbed at the faucet. Just great. Rip the faucet right out of the wall, that’s all I need. “My family doc…is the same one my—whoa—my mom used.” He clutched the edge of the counter and shifted his weight from one leg to the other and swung his feet down to safety on the floor. “And honestly, up until two years ago, nothing about my body was remarkable.”
“Says you.” She offered him a smile with that loaded comment and he wanted to grab both smile and comment and stuff everything else.
He held fast to the counter until the vertigo passed. She’d kicked up her feet and looked over her shoulder at his antics on the countertop. Once his legs were steady enough, he retreated to the couch with her.
She looked very at-home, curled up like that. He’d thought he’d made this place his man-space, eliminating the feminine when he exorcised the ghost of Nancy and his failed marriage. But Lin looked like she belonged. Or maybe it was his subconscious, telling him to make her belong. After all, it was the designer that directed the space, not the other way around. At any rate, he liked her much better than the boxy throw pillow that didn’t look like the kind of pillow you’d throw at anyone you liked. Maybe an intruder, perhaps, or one of the little gremlins when it was behaving badly. “I’m having a hard enough time getting the basics right without all the extra weirdness thrown in.”
“We can all say that to a certain extent.” She kept her gaze on him. “Everybody’s got weirdness in their lives.”
Jack took her hands in his. “I don’t have a great track record with relationships anymore. I’d really like to not screw this one up.” He inhaled, but kept his gaze fixed on hers. “So while we’re together, it’s just us. No Oddlings, no Winter business.”
Her dark eyes narrowed. The set of her jaw reminded him of the Dragon Lady in EvoWorld, who guarded one of the secret entrances to bonus game content for players who could defeat her by facing their own avatars. The Dragon Lady whose dragon eyes may have unconsciously, through the influence of a certain Art Director, bore a hint of resemblance to the take-no-prisoners Look pinning him now.
She blinked. “Just us.” It didn’t lessen the intensity of her gaze. “For now.”
The tense knot in his shoulders eased. “Let me do this right.” I’ll take ‘for now.’ “Are you free tomorrow afternoon? There’s ice skating in the plaza, and the microbrewery’s hosting a happy hour with half a dozen craft beers. I’ll load up the gremlins with Rocky Road while we get lit and fall on our asses with ice skates.”
“And afterwards, Starla’s house for ham and frou-frou mustard.” At his tension, she squeezed his fingers. “She won’t let you out of it. I wouldn’t put it past her to send someone in a windowless white van down here to get you.”
He sent a glance up into the rafters. There would be…complications with that. I said ‘Just us.’ Let’s see if Rocky Road can deliver what I promised.
She brushed her fingers against his cheek and scooted closer. “And after that…” Her lashes dipped to her cheeks and he felt the intensity of her dark gaze over his lips like a physical caress that reminded him Friday night was only a prologue. I scream, you scream, I’m gonna need a lot more ice cream.
~*~
As much fun as it would have been to spend a lazy Sunday together, Lin insisted on leaving Jack before ice cream time ran out. “Only for a little while,” she said. “You said you never missed a run, and I’ve already taken up a lot of your time. Besides, don’t you owe some fairytale critters some butter pecan?”
She was a good girl, and only lingered a little over kisses in the doorway before breaking away. “Mmm. I’ve gotta go. Shane and I have a standing brunch.”
“No kidding? I ran into him yesterday.” Jack’s eyebrows raised. “He was very big-brotherly about you.”
“Oh, say it ain’t so.” She laughed. “Our Sunday brunches are usually him going into the gory details of his wild Saturday nights and me living vicariously through him. He must really think you’re a bad influence on me. Little does he know.”
“Stick around. I’ll be a very bad influence on you. As many times as you want.”
How much did she want to say yes? “Look at you, that’s—what, three interactions with your old friends this weekend and your head hasn’t exploded.” She ruffled his hair. “Maybe you don’t have to be a recluse after all.”
“That depends.” He lowered his head to look directly into her eyes. “Tomorrow. The ice rink.”
“Admit it. You want to watch me fall down.”
“I’ll rub the sore spots afterward.”
They were like two magnets, reluctantly separating as Lin drifted through the doors of the elevator, mouthing words like, “call me” and “put on a shirt.”
~*~
Jack spent his run in a funk. The way he saw it, the two halves of his life could co-exist, as long as the Oddlings understood their boundaries. But he would need to understand a little more of his own limitations. Friday night had been surreal to unreality and back, but after he stopped focusing—obsessing—on the sexytimes, the other parts made him realize that it wasn’t all fantastic adventure.
He’d had an epiphany like this once before, which led him to the original deal with the Seneschal. He would hold the crown, but not wear it, and certainly not rule as if it belonged to him. In return, he would stay the hell out of things, and the Seneschal would only inform him of what he needed to survive.
It was time to renegotiate the deal.
It didn’t seem to matter that Jack focused on making the Oddlings leave him alone—the very fact that he interacted with them at all sent the little creatures into paroxysms of joy. After his run, he’d stayed out to do some shopping in order to stock up for the next few days. Downtown businesses being what they were, it was hard enough getting decent groceries without holiday hours and closings. The checker co
mmented on the multiple tubs of ice cream and single bottle of wine in his order. “Last time I had an order like that, my boyfriend dumped me.” Her tired eyes flicked up to his. “She isn’t worth it, honey. Or he isn’t, if that’s your thing.”
But Jack’s mood was as uncrushable as the Oddlings’. Rather than bothering to explain, he just gave her a cheerful grin. “Holidays are hell.”
When he finally returned home, he set the ice cream down on the counter and whistled for the critters. “Listen up!”
Oddlings began dropping down from the girders on the ceiling. A few of them emerged from under the couch, and still more peeped up from behind the entertainment center. He waited until blue and brown bodies quit the majority of their wiggling and jostling, and focused somewhat on him. “I’ve got a job for you guys.”
He may as well have declared they’d all won the lottery. The noise level amped up to moderate chaos as the Chillsprites began hopping up and down, cries of, “How may we serve Majesty!” and “This one shall serve!” No! This one!”
The Frostlings were a little more restrained in their behavior, but no less enthused. “Frostling Tribe! To Majesty!” The little blue creatures elbowed each other until they were more or less in lines in front of him. And had managed to boot the Chillsprites from their ranks.
Jack waited until the chaos had subsided to a dull roar. “Ahem.”
The last rumblings ceased with the Frostling commander. “How may we serve Majesty?”
Of course, he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t at least give it one last try. “There’s no way I can get you guys completely out of my hair? The crown, the whole Winter thing?”
His Advisor—the little blue Frostling that held him in lesser esteem than her counterparts—smart girl—spoke up from the back of the couch. “Majesty has been informed that it is Majesty’s blood that the Crown accepts, and none other.”
WinterJacked: Book One: Rude Awakening Page 17