Joe Goldberg is beginning to wonder if there's any more decent people in the world. With both Candace and Beck out of the picture, he's feeling lonely and starting to give up on love. That is, until Leila comes sobbing into Mooney's. Fragile and vul...
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I find myself outside.
On the porch.
Coffee in hand, watching the sunrise over the fresh blanket of snow.
Snow up here is different than back home. Back home, we only ever got ice. But here, up north, it's almost- gentle.
"Couldn't sleep?" Mark's voice turns my head. I shoot him a smile and lift my mug.
"I'm an early bird." I explain. "You?"
He scratches his jawline and shrugs. "Don snores." He laughs. "And his house makes me-"
"Claustrophobic?"
"I was going to say uncomfortable." He chuckles, his deep brown eyes wrinkling into his head. "He's such a bachelor. That awful orange and all that wood? Girl, waking up inside here used to have it's charm. But now- I just can't do it all the time. Next weekend, we're staying at my place."
A beat of silence swells up between us. I clear my throat and grip my drink with both hands. "I made a whole pot if you'd like some," I try, "I have tea, too. If that's better."
"What kind of tea?"
"Every kind." I grin. His smile slides halfway down his face, settling into a smirk.
"Well let's just see about that."
Mark falls into his seat, letting the warmth soak his skin, he speaks freely about Don. Spilling the beans about just how taxing his work as a grief writer is and how he's developed a sort of sixth sense for victims. How he's even gone as far as stopping strangers in the street to make sure they're okay.
Hearing Mark speak forces my compassion for Don to grow. And, unfortunately, makes my whole moving situation a little more understandable. Don must've seen something inside of me and worried for me. It wasn't just a neighborly kindness thing, it was genuine concern for me.
How sweet.
And...creepy.
"But enough about me, I could go on and on about my boy all day. What about yours?"
"My?" I suck in a lung full of air. Mark lifts his brows, asking the question again with his eyes. "Boyfriend? I, uh, I-"
"Oh, come now. Don and I saw him come over early yesterday. You don't have to be so bashful." He reaches for my hand and squeezes hard. "We're all adults here."
"But, uh, Joe- he isn't my- I mean, we're not, like, officially-?"
"He's not your boyfriend?" He releases his grip and sips his tea. "Interesting."
Is it? "We met last week, just before I moved here. Evan forced me to ask him out. We've been hanging out ever since."
"That crafty little bitch." Mark chuckles. "I love her! Let me guess, she made you meet at a mutual place with multiple escape exits?"
