He nodded. “I did. I mean, what else could it be, right? Unless it was part of a costume or something.”
“Right.” She exhaled. “Totally a filter.”
“Don’t freak out about it, though, please. I don’t think it’s strange at all.”
“You don’t?”
“You own a company that designs custom fish tanks. You’re working at becoming a free diver. And you obviously love fish. Why wouldn’t you want to imagine being one?”
She just looked at him. Maybe she wasn’t convinced he really meant what he said.
He leaned against the door on his side of the hall. “You know, you should get a tail and take it out to the lake with you next time.”
She snorted.
“I’m serious. Seems to me it would be a lot more fun than a filter in a bathtub.”
“No, you’re right. It totally would be.” She opened the door a little wider. “Karaoke isn’t really that weird. What else you got?”
He shook his head. “You don’t really want to go down that road.”
“Sure I do. Come on, impress me.”
He wrinkled his nose like he was reluctant to tell on himself. “I have some obsessive-compulsive stuff going on when it comes to numbers, which is all kinds of fun when you’re an engineer. Used to be worse, but I’ve done some work on it. I can actually have an odd number of vegetables on my plate now.”
Her brows lifted slightly as if questioning what he’d just said.
He nodded. “I’m serious. You can ask my mom. She stopped serving peas for dinner because I had to count them before I could eat them and there had to be an even number of them. Same with carrots. Any vegetable really. Or mac and cheese. I’d have to count the noodles.”
“Spaghetti?”
“Nope. Not on the menu. It would take me hours.”
“So what did you eat?”
“Usually four chicken nuggets and thirty French fries. For lunch, one sandwich with two slices of cheese and two slices of bologna. Although peanut butter and jelly was a good option because there was nothing to count. That is, after my mom figured out that chunky wasn’t going to work because…all those chunks.”
“Really?” Her mouth stayed open slightly.
“Yep.”
The door opened wider without either of them touching it. They both looked down to see Bowie rubbing against it.
Ethan scooped him up. “I really am sorry about my incredibly bad cat and your phone.”
“It’s no big deal. It’s fixed now anyway.”
“Are you sure? Did you make sure it was all working?”
“I did. Seems fine. Your magic beads did the trick. Thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome. Is Bowie forgiven? I mean, if he’s not, I totally understand. I’d be happy to ground him or take away his car keys. Whatever you think is appropriate.”
She grinned. “I told you, I couldn’t stay mad at that face.”
“I can’t either. Thank you for being so understanding. And again, for opening your home to us.”
“You’re welcome.” She gestured over her shoulder. “I think I’m going to turn in. It’s been a long day.”
He nodded. “It has. See you in the morning.”
“Night.” She closed the door.
He took Bowie back to his room, but he wasn’t really ready for bed. He didn’t want to work either. He felt completely unsettled. And not because he wasn’t in a place that felt like home.
Undrea’s home was a very welcoming space. He just had a weird energy in him that made him want to do something without knowing what that something was.
Maybe if he watched a movie, he could settle down a bit and relax enough to sleep, but he knew this feeling. A long time ago, a therapist friend had said it was a sign of the highly creative, and that the best way to work it out was to try to determine what action would satisfy him the most in the moment.
To figure that out, he had to boil down what he was feeling.
So.
What was it?
The easiest way to figure that out was to start with Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. It wasn’t a basic need that he was feeling. It wasn’t safety. It wasn’t food or water or sleep. That left the higher levels of needs. The psychological needs. And the self-fulfillment needs. So was it one of those things?
Maybe. The self-fulfillment needs were things like achieving your potential and creative endeavors. And while there might be some of that in what he was feeling, he generally felt pretty accomplished in the creative potential department.
That left the psychological ones. It certainly wasn’t anything to do with esteem or prestige. If anything, he had too much of that.
Which left one remaining tier. Belonging. And love. The needs that had to do with friendship and intimate relationships.
He glanced toward Undrea’s room. Was that what he was feeling? The need to be closer to her? The desire to do something that would bring them closer? A yearning to build the trust between them?
He would like to do something for her. But what? Was there something she needed? He didn’t know her well enough to determine that. He got up and paced, doing his best to be quiet. Her house was nice. Neat. Simple. Not overly fancy. He liked all of that, actually. He opened a door off the kitchen. It led to a basement, but he didn’t go down.
He stopped again in front of the fish tank. The light was off now, but he could still see flashes as the fish swam past. That tank was truly amazing. He’d love to have something like that in his house.
Once Nina was gone, of course. And getting Undrea to build and install a tank like that for him would be good for her business. But that didn’t really work in the immediate.
What could he do to thank her for taking him in? Flowers? Not every woman liked flowers. Sure, most did, but as he glanced around, the only plants he saw were in her aquarium.
Chocolates? She liked sweets. Maybe that was the way to go. He went into the kitchen, and although there was no light on except for the one under the microwave, he peeked through her cabinets to get a sense of what she liked. She wasn’t kidding about the Pop-Tarts.
One shelf held four boxes, all different flavors. There were also sugary cereals, boxes of granola bars, bags of chips, a jar of honey-roasted peanuts, and some hot chocolate mix. And she’d accused him of eating like a frat boy.
He grinned. Something about that was so endearing. Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest, but she was obviously an active person, and far be it from him to tell her what to eat. She seemed like she was doing just fine to him.
In fact, he gave her props for eating what she wanted. Once again, he couldn’t help but compare her to Nina, who seemed to treat eating out like a personal affront. That was no way to live. Life was meant to be enjoyed.
He looked in her fridge too. All the usual stuff. Lunch meat and sliced cheese, condiments, some leftovers, creamer for coffee, a jug of iced tea, apples, some random veggies and a slice of chocolate cake in clear, supermarket packaging. There was a big bag of takeout food, too.
Her freezer was a little different. Although she did seem to have some typical things. Some burger patties, ice cream, some foil-wrapped mystery items. But she also had more than the standard amounts of frozen seafood. She had two big bags of shrimp and another one of scallops and a third of fish filets. There were also three boxes of coconut shrimp.