Page 25 of Compassion

“Bottled?”

“Sure.”

“Perfect!” She slowly backs up towards the doorway. “I’ll see you at the table after you make your bed then?”

There’s no hiding the surprise in my tone. “You want me to eat inside your home?”

“Yeah.”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

“At the same…,” bewilderment stutters my speech, “at the same fucking table?”

“That is what those words mean.” Her grin is teasing. “And words matter. Trust me. I’m a librarian. I know these things.”

Okay, so wrong about the teacher shit. Sort of. If she is a librarian for kids, then that’s really just splitting hairs.

She offers me another giggle, an over dramatic wink, and bounces away the way she came.

Why the fuck do I suddenly feel way in over my head?

It doesn’t take long to unplug the pump or make the bed. Finding my way to the kitchen, on the other hand, feels as though two tours of duty are complete before I finally arrive to find her placing down plates on opposite sides of an island that doubles as a table.

I never understood the point of places this fucking big. Not sure I ever will.

My feet plant me a safe distance from where the food is being served. From her. “Where do you want me?”

While the question isn’t meant to sound sexual, the flushness her face suddenly grows indicates she wishes it was.

Which makes two of us.

Even if it shouldn’t.

Jaye steals a small moment to compose herself prior to pointing to the space closest to me. “There’s fine.”

I nod in understanding of her order and slide myself onto the cushioned white stool. Now faced with the choice to focus my gaze at her as she fills her glass of wine or let my eyes wander around the wide-open space, I struggle to make the right call.

Do I want to hungrily stare at the way her middle finger slides into her mouth to suck off the drop of wine it caught?

Fuck yes.

Is it the respectful or gentlemanly thing to do?

Absolutely not.

See. You don’t have tell me all the obvious shit.

I force my glare to admire the modern décor, the stainless steel appliances, and the strikingly strange fact the entire scene looks like something a person would stage for an open house showing.

Not live in.

What’s that about?

“Feel free to eat as much or as little as you want,” Jaye sweetly hums at the same time she slides onto the stool opposite of me. “It’s not my favorite brand, but it’s the one I buy.”

“Why do you buy it if it’s not your favorite?”

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