Page 19 of Ms Perfectly Fine
“So what? I wanted to know who I was sharing a house with,” she retorted as though it were no big deal, though she was blushing slightly.
“Has no one told you not to Google yourself? It’s never the best way to judge one’s character.” Surely, nothing too bad could have come up. Maybe some critics talking about his last game, about how he’d left the company in Canada to start his own.
“I’m not worried about my character, I’m worried about yours,” she admitted, though she wouldn’t meet his eye.
“What did you learn?” It made him almost giddy to know she was interested in him in any way.What is wrong with me? Why should I care at all what she thinks about me?He scolded himself, but he couldn’t help it.
“Thirty-two. Single, or there was no information on that. Head designer at Nirosoft until last year, when you left to start your own company, Kyloware. Judging from the figurines I almost stepped on yesterday, the name stems from your love of Star Wars. Your first solo shooter game was a success, and you sold it for millions, only to reinvest it in your own company.” She recalled the information like she had read it from a catalogue.
“You’re right about the name. And I’m single, just to clarify.”
“I don’t care. Those were just the headlines. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t a complete psycho,” she said.
Elijah couldn’t help but laugh.Fair enough.
“Did you Google me?” she asked, fidgeting with the glass in her hands.
“No, I prefer to get to know people the old-fashioned way,” he said, and she scoffed.
“I wouldn’t hold my breath.” She put the empty smoothie cup in the sink. “And since you’re single, I’d prefer it if you didn’t bring women home. It’s bad enough having you here.”
“Same goes for you. I don’t need to see some guy in his boxers first thing in the morning,” he countered, not liking the thought of any guy being close to her except him. He barely knew her, and yet he didn’t want anyone else getting to know her.
“You don’t need to worry about that,” she said, pulling on a cropped leather jacket which had lain across the chair beside him. “Open all the windows. I don’t want the house to stink of paint when I come home.” There was no sting in her words.
“Have a good day,” Elijah said sweetly.
She hesitated in the doorway. He eyed her curiously.
“By the way, I should say thank you,” she said. He frowned, confused. “You were right about the grey; it really highlights the framed portraits.”
Elijah lost his smile. “You like it?” he asked, surprised he’d done something that didn’t cause her misery. The way her eyes brightened was different from when she was angry but still as satisfying, if not more so.
She walked back towards the stairs, not looking where she was going, and he followed her. “Why wouldn’t I? Sorry, but your plan failed. You saved me having to paint. It’s a much richer tone than the blue – I owe you one.”
Elijah couldn’t believe it.She played me. Or maybe our taste isn’t so different…He suddenly noticed she was about to put her foot in the tray of paint. “Watch your step!”
She grabbed for him as she fell. He tried to catch her, but slipped on the plastic sheeting; on the way down, he successfully knocked over the bucket of paint. Autumn lay cradled in his arms. He’d protected her fall, but they were lying in a puddle of paint.
A moment of silence passed before either spoke. It was Autumn who broke the silence.
“You can let go now,” she huffed. He hadn’t realised he was gripping her to his side. She sat up, and he stifled a laugh as he looked her over.
“Good thing you like the colour, because you’re covered in it,” he said, lifting the bucket of paint to his side.
She looked down at her jeans, whining, “These were my favourite!”
“You should have looked where you were going. That’s karma for gloating,” he chuckled.
She glared at him, then smeared her paint-covered hand down his face, neck, and T-shirt. She laughed, a sound that he wanted to hear again. But he dodged her next swipe and rolled over, pinning her down and forcing her to lie in the puddle.
“Truce?” he asked.
She nodded, breathing heavily beneath him. “Truce.”
He offered her a hand up, which she accepted, so he must be making a dent in her resolve. They stared at each other, admiring their handiwork. Then he realised she would probably be late for rehearsals.
“You should change before you go,” he said, and her face dropped.
