Page 50 of King of Pain
What the hell was that?
After clearing it with Frank and Kathy, Chance leaves his shift early with me in tow.
When we walk into his apartment, Chance lets Guinness out of his crate, and the pup bursts out, tail wagging furiously. Chance crouches down to scratch behind his ears. A hidden part of me can’t help but feel a little jealous.
I like scratches, too.
God, get a grip, Pacini.
“Alright,” Chance says, standing up. “I’m going to take Little G out to piss. Go ahead and put your bag down and grab a beer if you want. I’ll be right back, and we’ll get you settled.”
“Okay, thanks,” I reply as he heads out the door.
This is fine. You can do this;I tell myself as I toss my bag on the couch and go to his kitchen to grab two beers from the fridge. Peering inside, I make a mental note to grab some cooking essentials tomorrow. This man’s fridge is practically barren—just beer, ketchup, and almond milk.
When Chance returns with Little G, he claps his hands together and says, “Alright, let’s get you set up. You can use the hall closet for your clothes since it’s basically empty, and I’ve got extra blankets and pillows for the couch.”
“Thanks,” I say, following him as he pulls the bedding out from the linen closet.
“Make yourself at home,” Chance says, tossing the blankets onto the couch. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Protein powder, snacks, whatever.”
I glance toward the fridge, raising an eyebrow. “Will do. I love ketchup and almond milk soup. A real delicacy.”
Chance throws his head back, laughing. I do my best not to watch the cords of his neck flex. I fail miserably.
“Careful, Pacini, your sense of humor is showing. I’ll be sure to order you one of those gourmet meal kits to satisfy your culinary needs.”
I shake my head and laugh, handing him his beer. “Nah, I’ll go to the market tomorrow. You need actual food in your house, Chance.”
“Noted,” he says with a crooked grin. “Are you going to cook for me?”
I snicker. “If you’re lucky.”
Chance slips into his bedroom to change. I journey the two short steps it takes to get into his kitchen and dining area. The kitchen table is a jumble of art supplies. Sketchbooks, charcoal pencils, and a few loose sheets of paper are scattered across the surface, their drawings hidden face-down. These weren’t out the last time I was here.
“Are those for school?” I ask, motioning toward the table when he comes back.
Chance’s eyes bounce between me and the table. He looks uncharacteristically flustered as he quickly gathers the supplies into a pile. “Yeah, just... projects. They’re not finished. I don’t want to show anyone yet.”
Blindingly fast, he scoops everything up and takes it to his room, making sure to close the door before coming back.
That was… interesting.
Later, after we’ve taken Little G for another walk, I zero-in on a gaming console hooked up to the TV I hadn’t noticed the few times I’d been here before.
“You game?” I ask, nodding toward it.
Chance’s face lights up with a grin. “Hell yeah. You?”
“Occasionally,” I say with a casual shrug.
“You want to battle?” he challenges, grabbing a couple of controllers and tossing one my way.
“Sure,” I reply, catching it easily.
He heads to the fridge, grabs two more beers, and hands one to me before dropping onto the couch. “Alright, prepare to get your ass handed to you.”
“Big talk,” I say, smirking as I crack open the beer.
