Page 13

“Next rule. You can keep my room until you can walk properly, it’s got the en-suite, but no naked sleeping in the bed” he thinks for half a beat before responding with

“Agreed. No naked sleeping in the bed. Naked sleeping not in the bed, being awake naked in the bed, but no naked sleeping in the bed”

I stumble on that one, I have to really decode what the hell he just said. When I do, I blush. He’s just fucking with me again, isn’t he?

“No going through my stuff, and I won’t go through yours” he offers, pretty respectful, I agree

“Don’t wake me up. I don’t like it” he’s clearly an early bird, but that’s not for me.

“What if you miss breakfast?” he enquires

“Then I don’t eat breakfast”

“What if you’re on the sofa, you’re in the main living space”

“Then you can be quiet, Nik”

“Did I wake you this morning?”

Checkmate again.

“Any more?” he asks, but I’m fresh out. This was productive. He is probably right, though. We are kind of prisoners, maybe not hostages unless he knows something that I don’t. But we don’t really have much free will in this whole situation.

He’s a bastard for that “no questions” rule as well. I can’t yet tell if it’s because he doesn’t want to answer them, doesn’t want me knowing the answers, or just wants to fuck with me because he knows I can’t help but ramble and I like to chat.

For the first time since his arrival was announced to me though, this feels like it could be survivable. Surreal. But survivable.

Seven

Sawyer

After learning that Nik enjoys hockey, we found some NHL highlights to watch on YouTube, sitting on the sofa. I can’t figure this out. At all. And as he brought this into my house, it is firmly his job to explain it.

“So it’s like football, on ice?” I initially ask, he doesn’t answer “oh it’s like hockey slash rugby… on ice” after watching a few more clips. “And you can fight”

I mostly get “yep” and a couple of exasperated sighs. Eventually after about seventy-six questions I get “Shush. Watch. Learn.” and decide I don’t want to play with Nik any more. He seems quite content watching some recaps and commentaries, something about the season and someone called Stanley Cup. Nik seems to pay more attention when they talk about the Bruins, but beyond that I lose interest.

In contrast to my constant fidgeting, scrolling, and adjusting, Nik stays perfectly still nearly the whole time we’re on the sofa, so when he does adjust it piques my interest. He arches his whole back, lets out a huge sigh, winces as he pulls something in his side, then leans forward with his forearms on his knees, in time for a match to start. His legs are so far apart it’s unfathomable, and kind of inconvenient. He’s so big he takes up most of the sofa now.

“Is that not… a bit… much?” I ask him

“Probably”

“So could you, not?” I suggest

“Which house rule am I breaking, exactly?” He doesn’t even look away from the screen. It’s dark now, but I’m pretty sure he’s smirking at me. What a dick. I’m fairly convinced he’s being funny in a kind of weird not funny to anyone else kind of way, but I can’t be sure. Knowing I don’t have an answer he just presses on “Maybe one for the next meeting.” Okay he’s definitely taking the piss out of me, here.

Then he stands up, it’s a bit of an effort, but he pushes off from his knees and stands. I’m restless and bored, so I can’t help myself.

“Where ya going?” I ask in my most annoyingly infantile voice

“Kitchen”

“Why?” carrying on the tone

“Snacks” and off he goes. But my brain has found some kind of fun, and I just can’t stop myself. I know I probably should. I know I’m playing the most stupid game ever, and I absolutely am placing myself in danger for near zero reason. But surely I can get a reaction out of him. I don’t like being ignored, it’s boring. I follow him to the kitchen, intrigued and bored-playful.

He grabs a whole bunch of stuff from the fridge, and a dozen eggs from the pantry. Finds a chopping board and a knife and starts cutting through peppers.