Time to change tacks.
“Huh!” I huff and pull the blanket off me and slide off the bed, careful to pull the sweater I’m wearing low enough to cover, well, cover me. “Well, are you hungry?” I ask, my voice still defensive and hard.
“I’m sorry?” he shakes his head a little and turn his gaze to me.
“I said, ‘are you freakin’ hungry?’ Because I am. I’ve missed two dinners now, thanks to you, so that might explain why I’m a little crazy.” I walk around the bed and brush past him. There’s a faint scent of alcohol and I wonder if that’s normal, or if a stranger squatting in his apartment has led him to it.
He doesn’t follow me so I stop and put my hand on his arm. It immediately tenses, but he doesn’t pull away. I sigh and drop my voice. “Come on. I’m starving. Come have some dinner with me. We can get this done and both move on with our lives.”
He doesn’t move. Just stands there, his breath heavy, the alcohol scent growing stronger. For a moment I feel like he’s just going to grab my arm and throw me out of his home.
But he doesn’t.
He just drops his shoulders and whispers, “Okay.”
I lead us to the kitchen and wave my hand towards the dining room table. It seems a little silly to be giving the orders, the squatter telling the owner what to do, but he seems to be happy to let me, for the time being.
He slides into the seat in front of the clean, empty wine glass.
“I guess I’m not the only one who had a drink alone tonight,” I say. And his head jerks up. I quickly turn towards the fridge before he can reply, not that he seems inclined to. I take turns heating up the plates, busying myself with pressing buttons and staring through the microwave glass door.
After the second plate is warm I carry them to the table, putting one down in front of him. He nods and picks up his fork as I sit down opposite him, watching him.
“Bon appetit, Kaine,” I offer and he looks up, and I can just see the glint in his eyes under the darkness of his hood, reflecting the moonlight. Even with the barest of light, I can see, they’re the most crystal blue I’ve ever seen.
“This… um, smells good,” he says, almost shyly, all of the gruffness of the initial reaction of finding me in his bed seemingly dissipated, and monosyllabic Kaine has returned in its place. But I’m thankful for the words anyway.
“Please, I hope, um, I hope you enjoy it. I’ve loved using your kitchen.”
My stomach rumbles and I don’t even try to eat with grace as I stab at my pork chop, cutting a large piece and cramming it into my mouth. The juice slides down my chin and I wipe it off with the palm of my hand, before picking up a slice of steamed carrot and stuffing the whole thing in my mouth.
“Mmmm,” I can’t help moaning in appreciation. “Pretty good, if I say so myself.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I watch as he cuts each piece of meat and chews it thoughtfully, taking care to try a bit of everything, balancing the flavors and textures in his mouth.
Other than the sound of cutlery against the plate, we eat in silence. But it’s not uncomfortable. I’m mostly focused on my food, and I try to avoid looking at him while I’m chewing, enjoying the view that soon will be just a memory.
His plate empties before mine and it gives me a little thrill that he at least enjoys the food I cook.
“Um, would you, would you like some more? I made plenty, I saw you had a lot of pork chops in your freezer so I figured you liked them.”
I hold my hand out for his plate and he hands it to me without a word. His fingers brush mine and the shock makes me loosen my grip, the plate slipping out of my hands. He catches it with one hand and grabs hold of my hand with the other.
“Are you okay?” he asks. That’s all. Just three words.
“Um, yes, sorry. Just a weird momentary finger cramp.”
I take the plate from him and hurry over to the kitchen to get him seconds, my heart racing like the driving theme of William Tell in my chest, a soft thundering in my ears.
My own reaction confuses me. It can’t be just from his fingers brushing mine, can it? Surely it’s just because of the strangeness of the whole experience. Finally coming face to face with the man who saved me… not once but twice.
The microwave dings and I wait a moment before taking it out.
The microwave dings again, reminding me, and before I can open the door, I feel him beside me.
“I can, I can get it… Jade,” he says my name slowly, deliberately, like it’s a word he’s just learning. I like the way it sounds coming out of his mouth. “You go sit back down. You probably haven’t fully recovered yet. From the incident.”
I step back so he has room to take his food out of the microwave. He moves so I can never really get a good look at him, his face. Always standing with one side of his body away from me.
Why is he like this? Why is he still hiding, after everything we’ve been through? Literally, life and death. I follow him back to the dining room table, sliding into my seat, still watching him.
“Um, Kaine?”
He doesn’t look up but he stills his fork.
“Do you… um, can I… do you want to take your hoodie off?”
He lifts his head up, putting his fork down.
“No.”
One word.
Well, that settles that.
I push away from the table, suddenly filled with an inexplicable hurt.
“Wait,” he says. And I do. “Please understand. It’s… it’s not you.”
There’s nothing but truth in his voice. I wish he knew, whatever it is, I can handle it. But the least I can do, is let him know I understand that it’s his choice. I sit back down and resume eating.