Broken Things

Chapter 5

Her eyes searched my face as I washed my food down with another sip of wine. I was thinking about something to tell her. Honestly, I could probably tell her everything without her judging me. She wasn't that type of person, at least from what I had gathered. 

"I'm having a great time with you and this is probably the most fun I've had in a long time," I told her finally. I bit my lip in hopes that she wouldn't be weirded out by what I had said but it was true. The was the first time in months where I have felt completely relaxed and able to be myself.

"Really? I still believe  there's a party or something where you could be having a better time," she said, picking through her food in the take-away box she held in her hand. 

"I swear to you. I would much rather be doing this than be at some loud party with hundreds of people that I barely even know."

"Well, you don't know me," she said quietly. This was true. I didn't even have a clue but it felt like I had known her for years. She was an old soul, completely unaware of the effect she had on those around her.

"I mean for all you know, I could be plotting to kill you at minute," she said with an attempt to hide a smile that tired to form across her lips. This made me let out a loud laugh and I watched as she let the smile break.

"You can't tell me to trust you and then go on and say shit like that."

"Maybe that's my M.O. You would never know." We broke out in a bout of laughter again.

"You're a cheeky little thing, aren't you," I said while she took a napkin to her fingers.

"Well, it's the first time I have ever been accused as such but I guess I'll take it." She threw the napkin in an empty food container and started picking up the rest of the rubbish that was scattered on the floor. I took the last bite of chicken and helped her clean. I followed her into the kitchen and tossed everything into the bin while she rinsed out the wine glasses.

"Everything aside, I'm glad you're having a good time," she said over her shoulder. She dried her hands and walked over to the record player. I went over to the fire place and studied the large print over the mantle. 

"You miss it?" she asked while sliding the previous record back into it's sleeve.

"All the time," I said, not taking my eyes away from the picture. "Where did you get this? It's a great print."

"Thanks, um, it's mine."

I smiled, "I know it's yours but where did you buy the print?"

"I didn't. That's my print. I took that when I was there last fall."

I broke away from the picture to look at her. She was focused on the shelves of albums to find something else to listen to. 

"You took that picture?" I said wlaking over to her. She had pulled out what looked like an origional copy of The White Album, judging by the wear and tear of the sleeve. She was reading the inside of the cover.

"Yeah, I was there last fall with one of my photography classes that I was helping teach. I think I was there for like a week. I loved it," she looked up and smiled. 

"I can't imagine what the rest of your work looks like," I said. She was so much shorter without her heels on and I hadn't realized that until now. 

"Well I can show you some if you want, just let me put this on." She started taking the record out of the sleeve.

At that moment, a pounding thundered against the door making me jump and Stevie drop the record, sending it crashing to the hard floor. It broke into shiny, black shards around our feet.