Nick's Girl

3 | the stranger's house

I remove my soaked uniform jacket, and let the man put it over his heater in the corner of his sitting room.
On the surface, this clearly looks a strange situation. But I promise myself I'll only stay for five minutes tops.

"Here. I'll take that." The young man takes the Avon box from my grasp and puts it beside my dripping-wet jacket.
"Thanks." I whisper. He doesn't seem so irritated now. He's sort of calm and quiet.
I stop thinking about how weird this situation is, and get on with warming myself up.

I sit down on his small green sofa in the corner of his sitting room. From the separate piles of laundry sitting on the floor, I surmise that he has a family... Parents, and a couple of siblings, if I'm correct.

Thankfully, the house is lovely and warm. He disappears for a moment and re-emerges, chucking me a towel.
"Thanks." I say again, wringing out my hair and drying my neck.
"I like your records. Do you like The Doors?" I say, motioning over to a haphazard pile of LPs on the carpet.
"What? Oh, yeah. Yeah... I'm a fan. Their really good." He mutters awkwardly. "I'm Nick, by the way."
"I'm... Well, I'm Evalina. But, call me Eva."
Both of us are insanely uncomfortable. He, despite his tough, reckless first impression, has gone all soft and fidgety.

He disappears again. I continue to dry my straggly hair.
"So... Avon lady," he calls from the kitchen. "What's it like knocking on people's doors and offering them lipstick?"
"You make it sound very unprofessional."
He chuckles.
"D'ya have to wear those pink clothes?"
I hear the clinking of china.
"Yes," I say casually, "it's standard uniform. "Though, when you're new to the job, you're forced to wear a stupid badge."
"What does it say?" Nick asks, amused.
"'I'm a training Avon Lady!'" I recite, grimacing at the remembrance of the time when I had to wear that stupid badge myself.
"Doesn't sound half bad..." Nick reasons.
"Would you wear a badge that told everyone what you worked as?" I challenge.
There's a short silence.
"Have you got a job?" I continue, patting my hair gently.
Nick hesitates.
"Yes."
"As...?"
"As a server in a café. I work mornings. But it's all a bit... unpredictable." He sounds embarrassed.
"This your day off then?" I guess, reaching in my bag for some lippy.
"Yeah," he says quietly.

Nick comes through with a tray, bearing two steaming cups of tea. There's even a seperate jug for the milk, and a little sugar bowl with butterflies on it.
"How fab," I marvel, unable to conceal my surprise and gratitude. Nick smiles modestly, and settles the ttray on the table in front of the sofa.
"Ooh, that's just what I needed," I almost swoon at the delight as I take my first sip of warm tea, the china feels wonderful against my cold skin.

Nick continues his silence.
I slyly seize the opportunity.
"Look at me please," I demand
Nick stares at me, agast.
"Come on..." I roll my eyes, "get over yourself. This is my job. I've seen much worse... comlplexions than yours."
Nick inherits the same grungey, I-don't-care attitude that he greeted me with at the door. But, although begrudging, he complies, and lifts his face up for inspection.

Ever-so-delicately, I take Nick's chin in my hand, positioning it up to the light.
This is the old regime I've performed on countless clients. I've become almost weirdly comfortable in the routine of striding up to stranger's houses, assessing their complexion, and whacking on some lotion or another to aid their skin.
But this time something feels different.

A hot chill shoots through my arm as I touch him.
I clear my throat.
Nick does too, his adam's apple bobbing. His eyes are looking at me.

I scan over his face briskly.
"Yes," I squeak awkwardly, "ahem... Just as I thought: dry skin."
I let go of his chin. I realise I am now too hot.
Nick slouches back into the sofa.

"So," he pipes up. "You going to prescribe me something?" He asks, all macho once again.
I go over to the heater and retrieve the makeup box. The rain has dried up.
Flicking through little sachets of cold cream, oil, and balm, I take out a sample of the lavender-scented moisturizer.
I clear my throat, and mumble shakily:
"May I?"
"May you what?" he shoots, furrowing his wheat-coloured eyebrows.
"May I...erm... apply this? To your skin?"
Nick considers the offer.
"Yeah, go on then. This is what you're here for. Technically."
Permission granted, I nod, and gingerly open the moisturizer. I can tell Nick wants this done quickly.

"It's cold," he states in shock as I apply the substance.
"It's good for you." I reply. "There. I pronounce your skin nice and fresh. And..." I sniff, "smelling of lovely lavender."
Nick grins, I suppose feeling partly silly and partly amused at my remark.

I look outside. Rain tumbles down still.
"'Evelina'. Quite a fancy name you've got."
"Isn't it just..." I laugh self-depreciatingly, my eyes returning to Nick's face, "it was my mother's strange idea."
"I like it."
"You do?"
"Of course. It's pretty. Like you."
"You're quite the flirt, aren't you?" I say teasingly. I catch him out with this one. He stares at his hands, his cheeks reddening.
"Well...I'd better get a move on." I give Nick a smile, and get off the sofa.
"You sure?" Nick hastens, scrambling to his feet.
"Yes."
"But it's still raining."
"I'll live."
"You'll get a cold."
"Not if I hurry...!"
"Seriously, Avon-
"My name's Eva, if you please!" I say brightly, grabbing my coat off the heater; I can feel Nick's rage building.
"God, you just won't give up, will you?" he says.
"Mmmm... nope! Don't think I will!" I chime, and walk to the door. "It's been a delight, Nick."
"Hold on! You haven't charged me for the...the moisturiser!"
"Consider it a... a friendly bargain! Have a nice day!"

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