Page 15 of Stoker's Serenity

I made sure with a quick text that there weren’t any food allergies or anything he couldn’t stand, and when I got the all-clear, I sat down at my table to go through my cookbooks to figure out what I wanted to do. I spent a half hour or so choosing what I wanted to make and making a shopping list for what I didn’t have and would need. I ran to the grocery store and picked up my missing items and, worrying my bottom lip at how much my checking account balance had dropped, made my way home.

I set everything to marinating in my fridge, giving the flavors time to marry. Realizing it was still pretty early in the day, I let myself out to play – as in, went down to indulge in one of my favorite pastimes.

It wasn't just Mrs. Sedgwick I loved about living here. There was also what had been a little plot of grass growing out behind the garage in the side yard of her house. A little plot of grass that was just begging for a greenhouse.

With her permission, I’d built one for myself, out of cheap pavers, cinder blocks, and reclaimed windows. It was sturdy, and cozy, and more than a bit ramshackle, but I loved it out there. It allowed me to tend to my orchids, a thing I’d grown to love with a high school horticulture class.

The greenhouses behind my high school had given me a place to essentially hide during lunches and even some assemblies. I’d been horribly bullied for being different… poor, for one, but my penchant for depressing music, literature, and comics, as well as wearing all black all the time, and even some of my more unique religious explorations, had made me a prime target for the popular crowd. I’d been marked out as something ‘other’ since junior high, and God it had been awful.

It made it hard for me as an adult to trust anybody. I was always expecting the very worst that humanity had to offer and I found I was very rarely, if ever, disappointed on that front, which was just sad.

It was one of the reasons that Stoker had my interest. He was so… different. No one except for Linny had ever stood up for me or looked out for me like he had and I was so very curious about him, about what made him so different from other guys.

I misted some of my plants, checking for mites or any other signs of distress. I was excited to see that a few of my babies were getting ready to bloom.

I talked to them, told them how happy I was to see them. How excited I was for the evening, and how I would see them soon, but that I needed to go get a shower and get dressed. I didn’t know how long it would take Stoker to get here from his job site and I didn’t want to leave any margin for error in looking a hot mess when he got here.

I carefully chose one of my casual dresses – at least, casual for me – and laid it out on my neatly-made bed.

I showered, made sure everything was shaved, and brushed through my wet hair and braided it over my shoulder. I didn’t always dry it, preferring not to heat damage it if I could avoid it. I didn’t exactly have a lot of money to go around, so expensive salon visits were out of the question. I could barely afford to get it trimmed every three months; usually I went six or more between haircuts.

I stared into the mirror and huffed out a breath, my shoulders dropping as I took in my plain appearance. There wasn’t enough makeup in the world to fix it. Linny insisted I was a pretty girl, but all I’d ever gotten from most anyone else was a passable ‘cute.’

Long ash brown hair, I would say a medium brown in color, that was pretty unremarkable save for its thickness and length. Skin too pale for the Florida sun, which I did try to avoid. I mean, I only really had two colors – glacier and lobster. Even my eyes weren’t much to write home about. Just plain brown, an almost even match for my hair. No bronze or amber highlights, nothing unique at all about me really. Just any old girl from anywhere in the world lost in the crowd on the street.

I put on a black bra and a black pair of matching panties before slipping the black bohemian mini-dress over my head. It was a simple tank top that fit me well at the top and flared perfectly into a flirty skirt at my hips, showing off my figure. It was one of my favorites, and so, it was faded with wear and washing, the embroidery standing out darker against the light cotton and rayon mixed fabric that almost appeared stonewashed now.

I was in my own house, and didn’t feel the need to put on any sandals or shoes so I just kept barefoot, checking my deep burgundy toe polish for any chips. Finding none, I found myself with nothing to really do except wait, so I tucked myself into the little reading nook I’d made for myself in the corner of the wall that led to my front door and the wall that ran behind the head of my bed. It had windows on both sides, allowing plenty of natural light in over my shoulders.

The wing-back chair that I’d parked there was a garage-sale find that I’d reupholstered myself.

It wasn’t the best job of lining up all of the upholstery tacks, but was passable from a distance. I’d found a nice black-on-black damask-patterned upholstery fabric. There had been just enough to cover the front and the back of the chair and its seat in the bargain bin at the fabric store. I’d pieced it together with a plain, inexpensive black velvet on the arms and the back of the chair, and it’d turned out nicely.

I’d found a closely matching ottoman at another garage sale and I had recovered it in some of the same black velvet and, with the little round high table perched beside the chair to hold my drink and my book or phone, it made quite the cozy little reading space.

When it got cold, which it rarely did in the Sunshine State, I just used an amethyst chenille throw – again, found in the bargain bin – and I couldn’t be bothered to come out of my snug little world for hours.

It was where Stoker found me when I finally came up for air. I was reading along and got this strange feeling like I wasn’t alone and when I looked up, I’d yelped and then put a hand over my mouth as if I could somehow take the sound back. He was standing just on the other side of the screen door.

It wasn’t too bad out today and I tended to turn off the A/C unit in the apartment and throw open doors and windows if the heat was something I could tolerate. It saved money.

“Sorry,” he said, and pushed open the screen, stepping across the threshold. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just couldn’t help myself.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, setting my book aside and uncurling myself from the chair, standing so I could come around the little ottoman and greet him.

I stepped over to him and looked up at him. He was tall. Easily six foot or more to my whole five foot three.

“You were just, I don’t know...” He laughed and it sounded a bit nervous, which was funny to me – him, nervous, around me? Ha. “You looked like you were really into it and you were just so beautiful, I had to stop and just look for a minute.”

I stared at him and blinked stupidly.Me? Beautiful?

“I’m glad you’re here,” I murmured and he smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… can I get you something cold to drink?”

“Uh, yeah.” He lifted a gym bag, “I kind of came prepared. It was kind of brutal out there today, you mind if I get a quick shower? I’d hate to stand around stinking up your place.”

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