Always Cas | ✔

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN; part two

     When we finish looking at the apartments and are sitting in Cas's car, he goes, "I'm never moving out, I guess."

     I laugh. "You'll find the right place. And you'll know when you do."

     "Is that how it was for you?" he asks.

     "Not really," I tell him honestly. "I liked a lot of things about the house, but I also did a lot of renovations on it."

     "Yourself?" he asks, and I nod. "Of course you did."

     "But I own my place," I say. "So the renovations I did were an investment for when I sell. Renting an apartment — you don't have to think that hard about it. You just need to know what are the things you definitely want and definitely don't. Proximity to your job is something to consider. You've got this new car, so ideally a parking garage with anti-theft measures in place. You're young, so you want to think about the kind of crowd the apartment caters to."

     "Okay, so you're like weirdly good at this. Can you text me a list of all these things? I'm gonna need to make an excel sheet, I think."

     "How many apartments have you seen already?" I ask.

     "Five," he responds. "The well is certainly running dry. Especially if I'm trying to stay in Aurora."

     I hesitate before asking, "Are you trying to stay in Aurora?"

     "I mean, ideally yeah. I don't think when I get off of work at one a.m, I'm gonna be too pleased with my decision to live in Piscataway."

     I scrunch my nose. "Is Piscataway a town you're looking at apartments in? I hate it there."

     He laughs. "No, I just threw out any name. Alright, on a more serious note, are you hungry? Cause I'm starved and I'm jonesing for some Chipotle. And before you even say anything about salmonella or cholera or whatever, bite your tongue. Food is meant to be enjoyed not labored over intensively about the health benefits."

     I fight back a smile, nod my head brusquely instead. "Let's go get food poisoned at Chipotle, then."

     "Guts of steal, my man," he says lightly as he backs out of the parking space, distracted as he watches the back-up cam on his dash. "Chipotle ain't got nothing on this digestive system."

     Guts of steal. Some things just do not change.

     Chipotle turns out to be the move. They've introduced some new lifestyle bowls so I end up with the Paleo, which Cas gawks at before rolling his eyes. "You would," he says as we take a seat outside on the patio. It's a nice day for November. Not too cold, and in the sun it's even nicer.

     Meals have become a comfortable silence type of ordeal. Cas has a burrito the size of his head and tucks into it without ceremony. He's sprawled out in his chair, legs crossing over his area under the table into mine, so that his knee is settled against my thigh.

     We're just about finished when Ms. Vivvie walks by on the sidewalk below the patio and Cas sees her, brightening, as he sits up and calls to her. I stiffen on instinct, and I don't know what that instinct is, exactly.

     "Ms. Vivvie," Cas says and waves. She stops and looks up at the two of us before she smiles.

     "Oh, hello there, Calvin. I heard you were back in town. Our new doctor, I hear?" she responds. "Hello Dresden." Her voice changes a note, like we're sharing a secret.

     "Ms. Vivvie," I say with a nod.

     "So I've tried the peach juice and it is absolutely fantastic. Can I bulk order? I've also heard great things about the grapefruit."