Accidental Housemate

11: choking

When I heard Dave’s door close, I knew it was my cue to leave my room. Avoiding him after my meeting with Courtney wasn’t easy. Getting back without bumping into him was already a miracle.

I opened my door slowly and sneaked out. The kitchen smelled of the soup we were supposed to drink together in peace before Tiffany had appeared. I had no desire to eat, so I munched on a simple protein bar.

“Caught ya.” Dave’s voice from the doorway caught me off guard.

I flinched and turned around. I faced the one and only person I was trying to avoid, not knowing whether I was allowed to be angry.

“The protein bar doesn’t have enough nutrients to get you through the day,” he pointed out. “Perrie.”

“Sorry?”

“Let’s grab takeaway for dinner and eat somewhere nice.”

“What makes you think that’s a clever idea?”

He chuckled and rubbed his nose. “Because I’m not in the mood to cook, and you don’t know how to, but we need to eat. It’ll be on me.”

Did he think the expenses stopped me because he saw Tiffany take my cash?

“I don’t care.”

“Why the attitude?”

Because you rubbed the flat’s legality in my face. But I didn’t admit that.

“I’m tired. I wanna stay home.”

He stared at the floor as if it could give him better suggestions. “I think I’m starting to grasp an idea of why you’re familiar to me.”

I gulped. “I probably just look like someone you know, that’s all. Happens all the time.”

He laughed, and it unnerved me. “No. I’m not dumb, Perrie.”

Suddenly, the dinner idea looked more appealing to me than the conversation. “I’ll go dress up. You better hurry.”

Dave bought meals via drive-thru and then drove us somewhere less crowded than the heart of the city.

He pulled off the road and got out. I was about to open the door myself, but he beat me to it and opened it for me. He flashed me his signature smile and extended his hand for me to take. “My lady.”

My heart skipped a beat at the gesture, but not because I was touched. I was terrified of skin contact with a guy who was starting to remember me.

When I didn’t take his hand, he retreated and gave me the space to get out on my own. He opened the boot and prepared a seat on the edge while I walked a little further to check our surroundings. I sighed to myself and walked back, preparing for him to rub the truth in my face any second.

It’s gonna be alright.

At least he didn’t seem to take the harsh approach. He patted the space beside him on the edge of the boot. I obeyed and sat close. Dave handed me a khaki bag. “Your food.”

I stared down at it. “This isn’t the best hangover food.”

His brows furrowed. “You didn’t try my soup either. I don’t know what you want anymore.”

Good point.

I took the bag, anyway, not wanting to reject him twice. I opened it and found that he got me lemonade rather than cola at least. “Thank you, Dave.”

He dismissed me with a hand, already halfway through his sandwich. “Thank me by starting to eat already.”

I nodded and started with the juice to ease my nerves.

“So, who’s Rochelle, who your sister mentioned? Your other name or something?”

The liquid entered the wrong pipe, and I choked. He tried to pat my back soothingly, but that made me feel even worse. I left my spot and walked away from him, trying to regain my breath.

Why did he have to remind me if he truly remembered me? I realised he didn’t really, or he wouldn’t ask.

Dave followed me, but like the previous night, I told him to go. This time, he obeyed without questioning.

Breathe, Perrie, Breathe.

I leant on a tree, suffocating, but not on the juice; rather on my dark thoughts. Dave did not catch the hint the skin-ship was stressing me and reattempted to soothe my back. Seconds later, I felt better and regained my breath.

“Can we just go home, Dave?”

He nodded and told me to lean on him if I needed to, but God knew I didn’t want to lean on a man who possibly knew Rochelle, even if I needed to. Although walking on my own felt like the hardest activity, I willed myself to do it and spared Dave’s help. After all, he was the reason I panicked and choked on my food. Indirectly.

On the way home in the car, we didn’t talk. I wondered what was going on in his head under that brown hair. Dave looked rather upset, palming his face repeatedly, no longer willing to have anything to do with me. As if we went back to square one, needing to bond again.

I should’ve let him finish his food, at least.

I dreaded the ride in the elevator up to our flat. I wasn’t claustrophobic, but the tight space, alone with Dave, felt pressuring. Not because I was afraid of him, but after the choking incident, anything was possible.

Tell him the truth. He deserves to know, I thought. My eyes squeezed shut as I squeezed my bag’s handle with both hands.

When we arrived home, I threw myself on the sofa in no time. Dave joined me silently as if waiting for me to say something, to explain, or just anything that would ease the awkwardness.

Instead, I asked what he expected the least.

“Dave, do you watch porn?”