roller derby queen ~ j.g.

ten

dakota looks up at the face of fulton reed, who looking as shocked as she probably does right now. they stare at each other in silence for a while, not quite knowing what to say, until another voice calls, "fult, was it her?" that breaks whatever weird tension was going on, and fulton clears his throat and steps back. 

"uh, yeah. it's her." dakota watches as a red-haired man appears through the doorway, walking toward the door. he has a slight limp, she notices. interesting.

the man smiles. "well, are you just going to let her stand outside all night? come inside, dakota." she and fulton glance at each other again before he steps back to hold the door for her as she comes in. 

"thanks," she says softly. as the man disappears back into the other room, she and fulton stand in the entryway. the tension is so thick that you could cut it with a knife, and she's tempted to cough or shuffle or say something, just so that she doesn't feel like the awkwardness is choking her. instead, she decides to look around the house. the entryway is tall, with a large vaulted ceiling and tile floor. there are two rows of coat racks, one on each side, and two rugs underneath for shoes. should i take my shoes off before i go in? she thinks. oh no. 

there's nothing she hates more than the little unsaid nuances of each house that she lived in. she never knows if she needs to take her shoes off before going in the house, or if they don't want her in certain rooms, or if they don't allow elbows on the table, or any of that etiquette stuff. some homes genuinely don't care, but other houses just say they don't care in order to not cause problems, and then she can feel them staring at her disapprovingly for the whole first week she's there. then, there are houses that do care and expect you to know. those ones are the worst.

in a moment of awkward desperation to get at least something right, she glances down at fulton's feet. he's still wearing his boots. wonderful. she glances back up to him. shit. he saw her. he looks at her quizzically, but she doesn't think it's a judging stare, which is good. the corner of his mouth quirks up in a little half-smile, and huffs out a little laugh.

"don't laugh at me," she says quietly. she's nervous, too nervous to really be mad at him. fulton gives her a small smile, and- is he trying to make her feel better? 

"my girlfriend and her son should be here soon, too," the man's voice calls from the other room. he comes back through the doorway. "they're over here a lot, so i thought it would be a good idea to have you meet them too. if not, i can call them and tell them not to come." dakota shakes her head.

"no, that's okay, i would love to meet them too." the man smiles and dakota's glad she said that. there's a little voice in the back of her mind that goes 'yay! you did something right!', but she shuts that down pretty quickly. there's still a long way to go. he disappears back in the other room, but only for a couple seconds before his head pops back around the corner. 

"hey, fulton, why don't you show her around while i finish up dinner and wait for casey and charlie to get here?" fulton nods and the man leaves again. charlie? where had she heard that name befor- oh. she looks up at fulton.

"that charlie?" fulton nods again.

"yeah, that charlie." a realization hits dakota.

"oh, so this is what you guys were talking about earlier." fulton hums in agreement.

"yeah, and it's a good thing that you wanted to meet them tonight. they're in the process of moving in right now. they're selling their apartment and everything." 

dakota stares at him. "so you're telling me that i'm going to be sharing a house with charlie conway." she says, deadpan. that little half-smile comes back on his face, almost like he's trying not to laugh at her.