Happier

Chapter 7

Natalie

The Canadian morning was showing off, waking me up to gentle birdsong, the trickle of raindrops bouncing off the fragrant foliage outside, filtering through the soft grey of dawn.
I woke up thinking I had to be in class, but as I settled in, the memories returned. I blink the window into sleepy focus and stare at it, wondering when the rain had started since we didn't get home until around four. We had slipped inside, quietly locking the door, taking our shoes off just inside the house, trying to be overly quiet, but mid-shoe taking off, Rowen stood up too fast and hit his head on the coat rack he was leaning an arm against for balance. We had to slap a hand over our mouths to keep from waking the house up as we deliriously laughed, leaning slightly on each other not to topple over. It didn't get better when we got to the spiral staircase because the laughing fit worsened the more we tried to be quiet. I ran into the post, cursing while he stepped up, and it squeaked rather indignantly under his weight.
We lost our shit, crouching over in laughter until we could finally breathe again.
I pause and close my eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out through my nose.
I basically had the best and most chaste date ever, and it was almost erotic the way he didn't even try to make a move on me. I wasn't used to a man respecting boundaries. We hugged before splitting off to our separate rooms, and it was then that I realized we were almost similar heights, him just being a tad bit taller than me. This was nice for once because we kind of just fit.
It reminded me of the first time we hugged last year. I don't know what or why, but it had felt like I got jolted being near him, and that moment of contact lived rent-free in my annoying mind. So having his undivided attention last night, this morning, I mean, was a daydream come true.
Would things be awkward after last night?
Lizzie's turning across the room caused me to cuddle deeper into the down comforter, focusing back on the misty morning. It even rained in French here, and I shouldn't be surprised by it. Canada was just flat-out beautiful. They could keep the poutine, though; with that, I was one and done even though I usually wouldn't, ever, is a potato. Yet, with my bloated tummy, I'd be able to do it so quickly after yesterday's carbo-loaded beginning.
A soft breeze lifted the gauzy white eyelet curtains and the flyways on my forehead as I closed my eyes again. They became heavy with the relaxing nature of this early Canadian morning. I was getting sleepy again, and thoughts of Rowen's calming yet internally distracting company lulled me into blissful comfort.
At least for a bit longer.

—

Everyone sounded like they were downstairs already; Lizzie wasn't in our room, nor were Rowen and Mike in theirs, so I helped myself to take my time in the bathroom. I scrubbed my face and did my skincare routine before swiping some mascara on so I looked more alive than I felt. It wasn't anything some mascara and a cup of coffee couldn't fix.
I tossed my bathroom kit on my bed before walking down the spiral staircase, a goofy grin spreading across my face as I passed the squeaky step.
The voices were a little scattered, so I went to the kitchen first to rustle up some caffeine. I only had a twinge of a hangover headache, so coffee and an Excedrin should help that minor inconvenience. There were a few coffee cups in the sink, so I knew they were there somewhere, so I opened cabinets until I got lucky with the third door I opened.
I did, however, find a cabinet full of mismatched spices that other Airbnbers must have contributed over the years, complete with five garlic salts and several paper containers. All in a mix of French and English, which I appreciated since I could brush up on my French while we cooked. Which will be tomorrow since Mike and I drew our breakfast cooking day for day three.
I was looking forward to it.
As for the coffee cup cabinet, it was conveniently over the coffee pot. I should have known that, but everyone has their sort of kitchen feng shui. My roommate and I kept ours hung up under the cabinet; Mike had his mismatched array of collectible cartoon coffee mugs wherever they would fit, and Rowen? Rowen had his lined up in a cabinet, all the same grey and black glazed and probably fired in a kiln because they were hefty.
I prop a hip against the counter as I tilt the coffee carafe against my cup until I have enough room for the cream and maple syrup I had located before we left for dinner. Laughter echoes down the hallway, and I smile as I set the carafe back in its home and turn toward the fridge, startling just enough for my heart to skip a beat and halt rather abruptly, luckily sans coffee.
"Dear God, Rowen," I say aghast.
"Good morning to you too, Natalie." His voice was low, and his tummy was dropping deep. He was leaning up against the fridge, the tiniest of smiles flirting with his lips, but it was the light dancing in his emerald eyes as the morning sunshine started to filter through the floor-to-ceiling windows and the grey clouds began moving on.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly through my nose as he opened the refrigerator door for me and motioned me to carry on.
"Good morning." I grab what I need, avoiding eye contact and shuffling back to my cup of coffee, feeling the blush spreading down my neck.
I probably shouldn't feel this flustered or mortified in the light of day, but something about sharing last night sent my nerve endings on end now that we were sharing a space without anyone else.
He shut the door and leaned on the opposite countertop while I nervously doctored my coffee. I had never concentrated so hard to look calm and collected when his presence jolted me from every follicle on my head to my newly pedicured toes.
"Is it inappropriate to say I like it when you say my name?" I bite my lip harder as the spoon clinks loudly against the colorful porcelain cup. I swing my eyes to meet his, and he looks casually amused by my nervous early morning, waving like flags in the wind.
"No. You're the only one I don't criticize if you use my first name." I smooth my tongue over where I bit before lifting the cup to hide the lower part of my face.
"Good. Now that we've gotten the awkward first conversation down, we can enjoy the rest of the day like normal people."
"You say normal people like we're normal people. It's unnerving to be lumped in with such a normal crowd." I frown against my coffee cup.
"Okay, how about we act like people who have been friends for what? Five years? And that have known each other long enough to take on a new country while traveling together and cohabitating under the same roof."
"And hope none of us gets murdered by someone in the said house?" I shook my head at him, chuckling, "And in another country."
"It's Canada, Natalie," he leaned in, his tone teasing, "It's America's more consistent and suaver sister."
"Exactly, murder simply wouldn't do. You're more likely to be caught in a battle of espresso-fueled apologies."
"Well, I hope that Canadian prison at least serves pain au chocolat." I lift the little glass jug of maple syrup, and Rowen rolls his eyes, chuckling.
"Assuming you're the one going to a Canadian prison, of course."
"But of course."

—

"All I'm saying is that if we put all of our suggested outings into a jar, we could see how that helps loosen things up." Allison's voice was more tuned in as Rowen, and I moved onto the back porch. He let me out first, as any gentleman would, but it caused me to slink out like a guilty dog while he shut the door behind us before stirring me over to the leftover breakfast set up while the conversation stilled.
"Morning, you two." Was it me, or did that sound a little suggestive? I peered over at Allison and noted her grin. "Sleep well?"
Yeah, she was being suggestive.
"Good morning," I plop a biscuit on a paper plate, straightening up, glancing at Rowen as he picked up a plate. "I slept like a comatose baby."
"My sleep schedule is all sorts of messed up," Rowen interjected as he filled his plate with eggs and sausage and avoided the carbs. Good for him. I stole another biscuit since he would not eat it and avoided the eggs altogether.
"You guys stayed out late; I'd expect Nat to be all out of sorts instead of you."
"I slept great. But Arizona's lack of willingness to follow a world standard where time change is involved makes vacation suck a little the first few days." Rowen said around a bite of bacon.
"Three-hour time change," I say with a little dance, plucking up a chocolate croissant and topping my plate with it.
"I forgot what it was like having a sleep schedule." Rowen stared off into the distance.
"Wait until you both have kids. No one fucking sleeps, not even your kid." Mary poured vodka into tomato juice, her head resting sleepily in her hand as the other poured her basic Bloody Mary.
Rowen and I glance at each other, making ick faces.
"Yeah, that's a no for me." I moved backward, coffee and food in hand, and headed for the swing, tucking my leg under with my other so I had a makeshift tray.
"You say that now."
"You kinda have to have a male in your life willing to impregnate you first to think about those things. I thought we glossed over that last night." I say around the biscuit I had just taken a bite out of. "I'd rather have a date that doesn't ghost me the next day because I didn't put out."
"I'm so happy I'm not on the market, no offense, but it sounds awful," Allison murmured, shivering delicately.
"I guess it sucks for people who actually date." I lived vicariously through talk in the teacher's lounge and my roommate Charity's dating escapades, which we go over once she gets home.
I loved a good disaster recap.
Rowen settles in next to me and pushes us off into a rocking motion while keeping quiet. I hazard a glance at him as he sits his plate in his lap. He was never one to rock the boat; instead, he induced a quiet sense of calm that I tend to gravitate toward.
He must have sensed me staring at him because he glances up with a piece of bacon pinched between his fingers and offers it to me. Without much thought, I carefully took it from him and proceeded to eat it, feeling my face warm.
"It's slim pickings out in the desert. Let me tell you, you either run into the California girls who don't shave and eat nothing but a plant-based diet or the desert girls who don't shave and have a carnivore diet." Mike reached over to Mary's outstretched hand to take the vodka and pour some into his orange juice.
I snort while Rowen chuckles.
"Anyways, Nat, Rowen, what do you think about putting all our suggested outings into a jar and picking a few daily?" Allison was half-reclined on her husband, and both looked like they could stay like that the whole day.
"Sounds fine to me," I murmur around my bacon slice.
"I don't care." Rowen kicked us off again, and we rocked as the others murmured more about this plan and how it would work if we chose a different part of the province to explore.
"Even better idea," Rowen sat up confidently. "What if we each pull three or four pieces right now and map out our two-week stay so we can know what we're getting into? Especially if it means traveling outside of Montreal."
"Hey, that could work." Steve sat up, reaching for the notebook Mary was doodling on that had everyone's vacation ideas written down, and started to make each idea into strips. Everyone else returned to chatting quietly while Rowen and I swayed as we ate in each other's company.
All I hoped for today was not having to dip into any weird watering holes because this was the one time I was on vacation in Wyoming. Everyone who got into the questionable water ended up with leeches.
I did not.
I sat on the shore like some prissy party pooper.
Leech-less and scared shitless of weird water.