When Time Ran Crooked

30 hours, 43 minutes, and 19 seconds Until

"Wait, so you actually have a garden?" I demanded. "I thought you were joking about having a green thumb."

Claude shook his head, smiling down at me. "Nope."

"You really are good at everything, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "I mean, you could say that."

I smacked his chest. "You're not supposed to say that. You're supposed to be humble and modest and say you have no idea what I'm talking about."

"But I do know what you're talking about," he insisted. "I'm awesome."

"And here I thought you might be lacking in self confidence," I muttered.

Claude's eyebrows rose. "What was that?"

"Uh ... what's your garden like?"

His expression relaxed, his features smoothing out as he faced a topic he was comfortable with. "It's the best place in New York City. Except maybe the hot dog stand on FDR Way. But, you know, it's definitely a close second."

"How so?" I asked.

"Well, I grow food where I can. So I have a small set up of different tiny plants along my windows that face the sun," Claude explained. "But, also, I have a garden on the roof. It's mostly fruits, vegetables, and various herbs and spices-"

"No flowers?" I interrupted.

I was surprised when he blushed. "Well ..."

"Well, what?"

"I do grow some flowers," he admitted.

"Like what?" I demanded.

"Tulips," he told me. "I enjoy having them around my home and office during the spring and summer. But my mother also likes them, so I always make sure to grow enough to bring her some."

"That's ... sweet," I replied, finding the compliment almost bitter-tasting on my tongue.

He blushed. "What's your favorite type of flower?"

"I like lilies," I informed him. "But, at the end of the day, nothing gets to my heart more than food."

"Oh, trust me, I know," he retorted.

"Smart ass."

"Since my ass is a part of me and I like to think of myself as an intelligent guy, I would think that, yes, I have a smart ass," he responded.

I scowled, sitting up so I could stare down at him, disapprovingly. "You think you're so funny, don't you?"

Claude just grinned. "Yes."

I settled back down against his chest. "I'm too tired to insult you further."

"That's a first," Claude muttered. "You know, Bees ... if you're tired, you can sleep. I'll keep an eye on things."

I watched my right hand, once a fist, splay out against Claude's chest. Like a firework bursting across a pale sky. "No, it's okay. I may be tired, but I can't possibly imagine myself not being conscious during a time like this."

Claude's hands curled around my shoulders. "Well, I guess I can bare your company for a little while longer."

"Bitch, please. The only thing that you bare right now is your body," I snapped. "Like, damn. I feel like I'm seeing more of you than most girl's have."

Claude blushed. "I guess I should have realized by now that it isn't wise to insult you. You'll just fling words right back at me."

I beamed up at him. "You nailed it."

"Also, I'm getting kind of hungry," Claude told me. "And I know we have the bag of Oreo's in the bac-"

"What?" I snapped, sitting bolt upright. "Why did no one tell me this?"

He smirked up at me. "I'm assuming you want an Oreo."

"If by an Oreo you mean the majority of the bag, then yes," I confirmed.

"I think I've found a new way to control you."

I couldn't even deny it, if in being completely honest.