“I had some friends on my street and stuff. There wasn’t a lot to do at my house, so I would just go say hi whenever any kids walked by. It’s probably why I like being a bartender. I get to say hi a lot.” I force a laugh, and Zach laughs too as I toss my hair over my shoulder like an actress posing for photos. “I was pretty popular in high school, you know. I won the ‘Most Fun At Parties’ vote.”
I pulled that page out of the yearbook and had it hanging on my wall for years.
“I don’t doubt that.” Zach nods and strokes his beard. “You’re pretty popular now. I’m sure if I said, ‘You know that bartender with the pink hair?’ to anyone in Montreal, they’d all go, ‘Oh, you mean DeeDee?’”
“And if I said, ‘You know that weird guy who likes peanut butter and pickle sandwiches?’ they’d say, ‘Oh, you mean Zachy Zach.’”
He glares. “No one calls me Zachy Zach.”
“No one but me, and you loooove it!” I do a little dance in my seat for a second, just long enough that his glare turns into a grin.
“I guess it’s okay.”
We both go silent for a moment, and I realize we’ve been leaning in as we talk. We’re a lot closer on the couch now. He’s wearing jeans. My leggings are so thin I’d feel the roughness of the denim if my thigh brushed his.
“Let me do the dishes!” I jump off the couch like something stung me and grab his plate so fast he only just has time to snatch the last piece of his sandwich. “Since you spent so long making lunch, you know. It took you two whole minutes!”
I hurry away to the kitchen so he won’t see my face, which is burning like he slipped chillies into my sandwich.
I won’t ruin this.
The past two days have been perfect. We talk, we laugh, we do friend things. I’m not going throw it all away by jumping in his lap. Maybe with someone else, but not with Zach.
I already met with the girl from Roxanne’s work. It will be hard to watch someone live out my dream of going to Cheveluxe every day, but other than that, she’s an awesome girl, and we got along well. I’m signing the lease papers tomorrow. In four more days, Paige will be back, and I’ll find some other couches to crash on until I get the apartment.
I am not going to screw this up in four days.
Eight
Zach
SQUEEZE: a wedge of fruit served with a drink, meant to be squeezed over the beverage
“Bye, Dopey Hopey.”
My sister grimaces at my use of her childhood nickname and gives me the finger. I give a cheery wave to the screen of my phone, where we’re wrapping up one of our regular video calls.
“I was going to tell you how excited I am to visit in a few weeks, but now I’m just going to tell you you’re an asshole.”
“Love you too, Hope.”
Her face softens a fraction. “Love you too, big bro.”
We end the call, and I set my phone down on my desk, still grinning. No matter what’s going on in my life, chatting with Hope always gets me on the right foot, and tonight she gave me the perfect pep talk for the workathon I have planned.
I pull my chair in closer to my closet-office and jot out a to-do list. For the first time all week, I have six hours of uninterrupted working time ahead of me. All the extra shifts I’ve been covering at the bar have sent me into red alert territory with my business. I know I have the option of just saying no, but I never seem to do it. They call, and I’m there. Hell, I’ve barely even contributed to any meme groups this week, and I take those things as seriously as my actual jobs.
Tonight, however, I know for a fact they have more staff than they need at the bar, so there is absolutely nothing that should be able to pull me away from my laptop.
I can hear DeeDee washing up our dinner dishes in the kitchen. She’s heading out to bond with her roommate-to-be later tonight, but she still insisted on cleaning up. I catch the sound of her singing that Selena Gomez song she likes so much over the noise of the water. Her accent is extra adorable when she sings. She’s probably dancing around the sink with a sponge in her hand. I give myself a moment to picture it, smiling at my laptop screen like an idiot before finally opening up all the programs I’ll need.
Strangely enough, it’s easier to focus on my work when DeeDee’s here than when she’s not. The sounds of her cooking, or watching TV, or even just the knowledge that she’s dozing off in Paige’s room makes something settle in me. Having her here feels right, like a shifting scale reaching a perfectly poised balance.
Her enthusiasm for my business is as encouraging as it is adorable. She wants to know everything. Every time I think I’m boring her and try to stop with the ecommerce talk, she begs me to go on. She keeps telling me she’s going to buy a dozen giant pool floaties the second her next paycheque comes in.
I wheel myself in closer to my laptop and put the pedal to the metal. I’ve been working for close to half an hour when I take a break to stretch my hands. I’ve just pushed my chair away from my desk when a huge crash comes from somewhere out in the apartment.
Followed by a scream.
I’m out of my bedroom in nanoseconds.
“DeeDee!”
I scan the living room and see Paige’s door is open. I fly across the apartment and burst into the room only to find it empty. That’s when I hear the shower running.
“DeeDee!” I pound on the bathroom door as soon as I reach it, but there’s no answer on the other side. I can hear music blasting over the sound of the water running. “DeeDee, I’m coming in!”
I don’t know what I expected to find when I opened the door, but it was not what appears to be DeeDee tangled up in the shower curtain. The whole rod has been ripped down. DeeDee is partially covered by the white fabric where she’s bent over on all fours over the edge of the tub, her bottom half still in the bath and her hands braced on the bathroom floor.
At least I think that’s where her hands are. Her whole upper body is covered by the curtain. What’s not covered are her legs—or her ass.
I’ve only got a side view, but even that has me pausing mid-step into the bathroom, every question and offer of help dying on my lips as I take in the sight of that perfect, perfect curve.
“Zach? Is that you?”
I think I make a sound, but I’m not sure.
“Hello? Zach?”
She starts shuffling around, trying to free herself. All it does is make the curtain slip father forward.
This time I’m sure I groan.
“Uh, yeah. Hi. It’s me. What, uh—What are you doing?”
Hi? Did I really just say ‘hi’ to her?
She huffs from under the curtain. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
I scan my brain and don’t come up with anything.
“Uh, to be honest, DeeDee, you’ve got me there.”
The combination of the water and music is so loud we’re both shouting to be heard. I shake my head a few times before finding the motor skills to reach for DeeDee’s phone on the counter. I press the pause button before moving close enough to shut the shower off.
“Ah, merci. WAIT!” She shrieks so loud I literally jump. “Don’t look at my butt!”