The Summer of Closed Doors

The Art Room Door

The worn down box Tom had in his hands was starting to slip when he heard his name bounce off the walls from the corridor. When he whips his head to trace the voice, the box decides it wanted to take the full tumble to the floor and scatter all its contents. All Tom could do at this point is grunt in frustration and saunter over to where he could clearly make out his name being called from the kitchen. Having been at Heather's for the past week has made him acutely aware of where everything is in the house. The first few days, Tom will admit, were very awkward between him and the woman of the household. He stumbled around the halls while trying to find the bathrooms, as well as making it a very nerve wracking task just to find the door that lets him out. He tried to walk himself out on the third day, but that only lead him to the wine cellar on the complete opposite side of the house from where he previously was. Tom had tried to call out for Chessy, Heathers house lady, but forgot that she had left an hour before he did. Finally, Heather traced him down as he was going door to door to find his way back and showed him how to get to the front entrance. She waved him off as he backed out, trying really hard for her giggle to not be seen. She probably didn't want to make him feel more embarrassed over it. Tom caught a small glimpse of her laughing to herself before he walked to his car and that just made him turn on his "mood." playlist on his phone for the ride home. He's aware it was probably a funny thing for her, but it did get to his manhood needing to have his hand held through it all. Guess there's worse arms he could be in for this situation.

As he rounds the corner into the kitchen, Tom immediately gets hit with the fragrance of meat being caramelized on a pan. He gets greeted by Heather in an apron as she flips the patty onto a rack to cool. Tom is already salivating on the smell alone, he can't even begin to imagine how amazing it's going to taste. "That smells wonderful, you didn't have to make me one I don't want to be a nuisance to you," Tom trails off once he catches sight of the mountain of shoe string fries on the center of the table. He knows that she probably could eat that many fries on her own, though it looks like she had intended on having him for dinner regardless of what he said.

He could get used to this.

"Well, I feel like you've been making a pretty decent dent in cleaning out the boxes for me, and that deserves some reward." She waves the spatula at Tom before turning back to the stove to flip the other patty. "Besides, Chessy left earlier today for a family thing and I didn't want to have my Cheeseburger Friday Night Dinner by my lonesome." Heather switches off the stove as she plates the patty to get dressed with the array of toppings she has out on her kitchen island. She starts at the sauces and it's while she's slathering her buns with mayo that she notices Tom hasn't moved to dress his burger up. Tom picks up on this and skids his chair back as he grabs his plate to take to the island as well. He squares up to Heather by the sauces. Once she sees that he is besides her, Tom can see her return to her soft demeanor while moving down the island to the rest of the toppings. He finishes preparing his burger and walks back to the table to take a seat opposite of Heather. She not only has the mountain of crispy and still hot french fries, but also an arrangement of different refreshments set aside on the counter closest to the table. Tom sees the usual sodas: dr. pepper, coke, sprite, big red. He also sees what looks like more of that lemonade Heather seems to always have at the ready in her house, and then he catches it.