Page 19 of Jack Frost
After an hour or so, the stacks of boxes have morphed into piles of unpacked but homeless items. I had a dresser and a bookcase at my last place, but they were both borrowed from my roommate. I need some furniture of my own that's not plastic stackable drawers left over from my dorm days. At this point, with most of my current funds going towards college debt or future travel plans, my best bet is a thrift store. Surely I can snag a decent dresser from somewhere. But I won't be able to fit one inside the trunk of my Ford Fusion. Karyl doesn't have a truck, and she's probably zonked out after her long shift at work.
Maybe Jack could help me—
No. No no no, absolutely not.
After I slammed the door in his face last night, I doubt he'll come back. I can just rent a truck or something. Or order a cheap dresser on Amazon.
Speaking of which, I need to get my TV hooked up and mounted, set up my computer and get the internet activated in this place, and do laundry. The amount of stuff I need to do before I start work tomorrow is overwhelming. Why did I convince myself that one day was enough down time between my return and my first day of work? In what world would that be enough time?
Coffee. If I'm going to get any of this done, I will need the very strongest coffee.
I twist my hair into a knot and inspect myself in the bathroom mirror. I look weary and pale, but at least my skin is clear. I swipe on a little mascara and adjust the ratty gray sweatshirt I'm wearing over my leggings. It will have to do.
Snatching my purse, I stride to the door and open it—only to be greeted by a rush of frigid air and a smiling Jack Frost.
He's holding two cups of coffee—one iced and one hot. At least, I assume it was once hot. Now there are flecks of frost creeping along the paper cup's surface.
Words flit through my head—angry ones, grateful ones, confused ones—I can't seem to settle on anything, so I just stand there, with my mouth open.
"I thought you might need some help today," he says.
The mischievous tilt of his mouth looses my tongue, and a tide of defensive phrases comes pouring out. "Me, need help? Hell no. I'm fine. I love a challenge. Nothing I like better than a to-do list to check things off of. Thanks for the coffee, but I'm all good here."
I grab the coffee cup and try to push the door closed, but ice has suddenly grown along its lower edge, cementing it open.
"So you've escalated from stalking to breaking and entering," I growl. "Nice."
"Hey, I waited outside this time. Give me some credit. I could have spiraled inside, but I didn't."
Eyeing him suspiciously, I jerk on the door again. The ice splinters a little. "You didn't spiral because you didn't want to spill the coffee."
"Damn. You know me so well." He grins. I swear this man does nothing but grin at me and show up at unexpected moments. "Look, you said you don't know anyone here, and you've got tons to do—let me help you."
"No. You go save the world or whatever."
Frustration flashes into his eyes. "I can't! Not alone. Auxesia is too strong. I did what I could after you woke me, and I can't do any more right now."
"Can't, or won't?"
He lowers his voice. "I never wanted this. This isn't what I signed up for. Why should I give up everything and everyone I want for a world of people who don't give a damn?"
"I'm pretty sure the people whose homes are being burnedgive a damn," I hiss at him. "Why don't you think about them and go do your job?"
His gaze freezes over, turning icy and inscrutable. "That's what you want me to do?"
"Yes."
"Then if it's you asking, I'll do it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
But he's already gone. A few stray snowflakes flutter down onto the faded carpet of the hallway. I swear loudly at them, until a door yanks open a little way down the hall and a red-faced woman pokes her head out and squawks, "Hey! It's Sunday morning, bitch! Keep your voice down!"
She slams the door loudly enough to wake anyone else on this floor who may have been trying to sleep.
Sometimes I really hate humans.
My to-do list takes me all day, but I manage to get most of the things done. Instead of buying a dresser, I stack the empty boxes into makeshift cubbies as a temporary solution. So basically I unpacked and then repacked things in a different orientation—but at least everything is accessible now, and the floor is mostly clear.
