AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Something ugly crawled across my brain. An age-old neediness reared its ugly head. Had I given Landry that gift to get her to like me? It wouldn’t have been the first time.
“If she doesn’t want it, tell her to toss it or give it away.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and turned away. “It’s fine. I get it.”
Crossing the room, I picked up my scraper and pointed out the supplies to Daisy without looking at her. “There’s another scraper for you. You can work on that side of the room.”
Her footsteps were careful yet audible on the old, creaking boards. She stopped next to me, her hands on her hips.
“Hey, Miles?”
I cast her a glance. “Hey, Daisy.”
“Remember me telling you about the shitty way my family has been treated?”
“Of course.”
She situated herself between me and the wall, putting us as face-to-face as our height difference allowed.
“That’s what we’re used to—what I’m used to. When someone does something nice for no discernable reason, it makes me suspicious.” Her toe tapped mine. “You didn’t deserve that. Sorry for being a dick. Landry and Tom love your gift. I happen to know she already has a thank you note in the mail on the way to you. You did a good job.”
“I go overboard.”
“I can’t accept nice things, even when they’re not given to me. We’re quite a pair.” She kicked my shoe again. “I bet you’re rethinking the whole fake dating thing, huh?”
“Not for a second.” I held up the scraper between us. “You’re not getting out of your job.”
Grabbing the scraper from me, she spun to face the wall and gasped. “What the hell is this? There are ducks on your wall.”
“I know, and you’re going to help me kill them all.” I had to stop myself from smacking her ass. She deserved it, but I didn’t think she’d take too kindly to me doing it. “Get to work, Cupcake.”
Glancing at me over her shoulder, she saluted me with the scraper. “Ay, ay, Spreadsheet.”
Daisy turned on music while we worked on my walls. We sang to Tracy Chapman and Sheryl Crow, then I taunted her about her taste in music, so she turned on Liz Phair to drown me out. For a while, it was like a nineties Lilith Fair in my living room.
Then we got hungry. I ordered subs for us, and when they arrived, we kicked back on the deck. I picked the music—my “chill vibe” playlist—and lowered it so we could talk and hear the night sounds while we ate.
I nodded at her bottle of water. “Sorry I don’t have anything stronger to offer.”
She raised it to her lips. “No worries. I wouldn’t have turned down a pink lemonade, but that’s as strong as I drink.”
“Pink lemonade? That’s specific.”
“I know what I like.”
“You don’t drink alcohol? At all?”
“No.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin and slid her gaze my way. “This is between us.”
“Anything you say is between us. You don’t have to ask.”
“My dad is an alcoholic. He hasn’t had a drop to drink in almost twenty years, but I can still remember him stumbling around our family room when I was little.” She turned her water bottle in a half circle on her knee. “Once he got sober, we never had alcohol in the house. I tried it a few times in college, but I hate being hungover, and being drunk isn’t really my thing either.”
Something thick coated my throat. I had to clear it a couple times before I could respond.
“I don’t drink either.”
She looked up from her water, her eyes darting back and forth between mine. “You’re sober?”
I nodded once. “Nine months ago.”
