Page 59 of Definitely Not a Thing
“Yes?” she answered, clearly out of breath – eyes wide, hair uncharacteristically disheveled.
“Everything okay?” I asked, trying to peek behind her, but she moved so only a sliver of the door was open.
“Mmhm!” she squeaked – voice entirely too high – “Why do you ask?”
My eyes narrowed, and then I immediately just pushed past her, stepping in to look around.
“Excuse you!” she fussed behind me, but didn’t try any harder to stop my progress into her apartment. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Seeing what the hell is going on,” I answered, scowling as I turned to her. “I heard thumping, heard you get hurt?—”
“Wait – did you think somebody else was in here?” she asked, crossing her arms.
I shrugged. “Just making sure.”
“So you ran in my house half naked ready to kick ass cause you heard me sayouch? That’s so…”
“Chivalrous? Admirable? Gener?—”
“Obsessed,” she laughed. “You’resoobsessed with me!”
“I… man, whatever,” I chuckled too, shaking my head. “This is how you thank me for making sure some nigga wasn’t in here knocking your head into the dishwasher?”
She sucked her teeth. “You know what – you’re right, Calvin. Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me… neither of us is dressed for company, so…”
Now that she’d brought up my level of undress a second time, I looked down at myself – I was, indeed, in just my boxers. She was in boy short panties and a sports bra.
So… okay, we were both in our underwear.
I guess I got her point.
And then, looking past her, Igotwhat all the racket was about.
“You trying to break something?” I asked, pointing to the half-assembled basket-chair-swing thing laying on the ground, and the pastel-handled tools strewn about the floor. I saw the big ass hook… the coffee table pulled to an awkward spot… no ladder… “Amelia…”
“What?” she replied, voice all fake-innocent, eyes wide.
“Did you fall off that damn table?”
She raised her hands like she was confused. “What table?”
“Thattable!” I pointed. “Don’t piss me off right now.”
“Why are you being mean to me?!” she huffed, crossing her arms – this time, I caught the quick, pained expression as she did.
“Nobody is being mean to your silly ass,” I replied, moving closer to look at her arm. “You wouldn’t be able to fake like you aren’t in here being reckless if it was broken, so at least there’s that,” I said as I surveyed her.
“Dramatic,” she accused. “It’s nothing a little ice won’t fix.”
“Because you got lucky. Why are you trying to put that thing up anyway – I didn’t think you wanted to get quite so settled in.”
She sighed. “Well, yeah, that was the plan, and then I found out that the wholedream brownstonething is looking more like a nightmare – they foundmold.”
“Ugh.”
“Yeah, exactly,” she nodded. “So… after that bit of bad news, I figured I would do something that made me happy – and putting up this chair would really make me happy, I think. I talked to Claire, and she gave me some tips and stuff, helped me find the right beam to hang it from… I just don’t have a ladder. I thought between the table and me on my tiptoes…”
“Nah,” I chuckled. “You know you could’ve shot me a text, right?”
