Page 6 of Balance
Finn cocked his head. “I don’t believe you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Brayden interrupted, glancing between the two of us. “Don’t fight, I need to study. Wait until tomorrow so I can enjoy it.” His gaze lingered on me, and he grinned apologetically. “I’m not entirely sure where he is. Bryce has been working with Uncle Gregory on some things. I’m sure he’ll be back tonight.”
Darn. My anger deflated. Now there was nothing left to do except maybe read, or kill things in a shooting game. But I really wasn’t in the mood.
“Are you bored?” Finn asked, setting his book aside. “We could—”
“No!” I stepped backward, trying to calm my racing heart. I would rather cut off my own hand with blunt scissors than stay in Finn’s presence a moment longer. “I haveplentyto do.” My thoughts scrambled, trying to think of anything other than forced socialization with Finn Abernathy. “I’m going to clean!”
“But your room is already clean,” Brayden interjected.
“I’m not talking aboutmyroom.” The words rushed from me—Dr. Kohler’s sage advice suddenly bringing clarity. After all, this opportunity might not ever come again. “I’m going to clean Miles’s room. I think he’ll like coming home to a nice, organized space.”
Brayden scoffed out a laugh. “Are you really?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Finn’s lips pressed in a line. “He’s aboy.” He looked pointedly at Brayden. “You don’t know what kinds of things are in his room.”
“Oh please.” Brayden waved his hand in the air, leaning back into his seat once again. “Like Miles has anything remotely terrifying in his room. And she’s right; think about how grateful he’ll be once he’s back. It will be awesome.”
Finn slumped forward in his seat, bracing his elbows over his knees. “I don’t know if that’s the right word to describe it. He might get angry.”
Whatever Finn thought was a terrible idea was the best idea, in my opinion.
“Okay, I’m doing it.” I turned from them, already planning out the supplies I’d need. Paper towels, glass cleaner, probably bleach or other hospital grade disinfectant. Honestly, it was the laundry that concerned me the most. The clothes should probably be destroyed, but it would be wasteful. I should try to salvage them first.
“When Miles gets back, he’s getting a chore chart,” I muttered, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain near his desk.
There had been so much food hidden in various locations around the room, and none of it was on this side of the freshness scale. Empty soda cans shoved in drawers; dirty towels stuffed under the bed—this was far worse than I’d imagined.
When we’d slept in here together, I thought the room had been fairly in order outside of the mountain of laundry. However, now I knew the truth.
Miles was the kind of person who just hid everything in the closet, drawers, and every other empty space imaginable instead of just putting things away in their proper place.
Inexcusable.
It had taken me the rest of the afternoon, but laundry was at least piled, ready to be taken down to the cellar to wash, in one corner of the room. And all the trash and recycling was organized in the respective bins.
But really, it was the state of this carpet that was inexcusable.
Even though Miles drifted toward Earthy-colors and seemed to enjoy surrounding himself with soft blankets and pillows, it wasn’t enough to hide the dirt.
Finally, I’d found my purpose, and I was so grateful for Dr. Kohler putting this idea in my mind.
Even so, Finn’s warning rang through my thoughts.
Maybe he was right… would Miles be angry?
I was helping—technically—but there was a part of me that felt guilty about touching his stuff. Was he as private as everyone said? But he didn’t really stay in this room, did he? So was I really invading his privacy?
It wasn’t like I was at his apartment.
Besides, if I was overstepping, surely Julian would have said something. He’d stopped by for a moment earlier, inquiring into my actions. And instead of warning me away or seeming alarmed, he only shook his head and meandered away.
This scene almost felt familiar.
Strange.
I pushed to my knees, dropping the scrub brush and wiping my forehead with the back of my arm, the cotton sweats brushing against my skin. Most of the fabrics had been removed around the room: curtains, bedspreads, etc. And I’d cleared out under the bed earlier.
