Displaced

Timber - Fifty-One

I took my good sweet time in the shower, singing, and enjoying the fresh water cascading down my back. When I was finished, I dried off, and wrapped the towel around my waist. Right as I opened the door, Chevelle knocked her fist against my chest.

"Ugh, you were supposed to not do that!" She scowled, her face went back to being pink, and she faced away from me. "Soup's on." She briefly looked me over again, shook her head, and then walked away.

Chuckling, I went to find something I could sleep in. I'd yet to completely explore the wardrobe picked out for me in the closet. There was a wide variety of it, and something for every occasion. The quality of the clothes was superb. All of the pajama pants were soft and loose, just how I liked them. I picked out a pair, put them on, and headed out.

Soup's on was literal. Chevelle had made soup, and I was impressed that it didn't come from a can this time. She was carrying the pot to the table when she saw me, and she stopped in her tracks. Yeah, I definitely had to get her more used to seeing me shirtless if this was the reaction I was going to get every time I did it. A lot of it also could have been her inexperience with guys.

After a moment, she put the pot on the table, then dished up. "I've noticed you haven't been cooking as much. Wasn't sure what to think of that and now I'm making the connection between you not doing it and you not feeling so great."

"It's not a big deal," I said.

"But it is, because you said you'd take care of yourself. I don't want to have to hound you to eat. I also don't want you to inconveniently pass out at the wrong time."

"I'm not going to pass out!" I stirred the soup and then took a bite. "I'm fine."

She rolled her eyes and sat down. "You're such a girl when you say that. 'I'm fine,' but you know you're not fine. Man up."

"Okay, I haven't been as hungry lately because working with all of the kids and dealing with her is making me nervous and stressed. Happy?" I glared at her. "Chill out, Mom."

"I'll chill out when I see you upholding your promise to take care of yourself. If something goes wrong because you 'don't feel like it,' I'm not going to know what to do. You want your condition to stay secret, then you're going to have to stay on top of things. Make all the jokes about my mothering you that you want. She's not here to nag you, so I gotta do it in her place."

I ate slowly, knowing and hating that she was right. Rarely was I ever so careless. "Finding a new routine is hard, but once I do, it'll be okay. I'll find the balance. I was eating too much before, now it's too little. Can we just pretend it never happened and stop this conversation?"

"This time, I'll let it go," she said. She pointed her spoon at me. "Next time, you're not getting off as lucky."

"Warning understood." I relaxed in my chair, enjoying the soup and the quiet. Chevelle was right. How could I put her in such a vulnerable position because of my clumsiness? If my hypoglycemia got out of hand because I was an idiot, she wouldn't know what to do. It wasn't fair or smart.

My thoughts were disrupted by a knock on the door. Chevelle stood to answer it before I could even put my spoon down.

The door opened. "Hi, Paul," she said. "What's up?"

"I won't disturb you for long," he said. He didn't even enter the apartment like he usually did. "I've come to inform you, that tomorrow your meeting with your friend will take place at the rooftop restaurant. You have reservations for after sunset. I'll be happy to watch Lara for you while you're out. Keep in mind, this meeting is only to show him you're okay and for you to see he is as well. In-depth conversation will come at a later time, I promise. I'm not sure who else will be dining as well, so be careful of what you say and do."

We had to keep playing the part of the reluctant couple. Chevelle didn't like it, I could tell. I didn't blame her even if the act wasn't hard for me to perform. Romance has always been an extension of friendship. I've always treated Talia like my best friend, rather than arm candy. Sure we touch and kiss and cuddle in public, but I'd lose my lunch if I had an entire conversation where I referred to her as my "schmoopy-bear" and all she did was pet my abs and tell me I was hot. Who did that kind of crap anyway? How was that companionship?

I think it bothered Chevelle because she knew it wasn't real. No, she didn't want me to be interested in her any more than I wanted her to be interested in me. The more I got to know her, the more I realized that the basic principles of things were important to her. Knowing a relationship was all fake was a buzzkill.

Whatever she thought of our budding friendship, hopefully I could make her understand that those feelings weren't something I was making up.