Paw Prints and Breakfast

Emilia

A heavy veil of sleep-induced fog smothered her mind. She woke abruptly, her heart pounding as she glanced around the unfamiliar room and searched for the source that woke her. Her brows knitted together.

Her gritty eyes blinked repeatedly as confusion sent what little thoughts existed in her head, scattering like dandelion seeds in a swift wind.

The sound of metal scraping along concrete somewhere outside, rhythmic and determined, made it through the wall. Right. Luke. Freezing. His bed.

Oh, Lord. She bolted out of it, nearly tripping over the sheets as they tangled around her limbs. She crept to the blinds to peek out.

Snow still fell, lighter now, but the mottled sky threatened another deluge before long. Her neighbor was hard at work shovelling the glittering powder. She wondered why Luke was bothering to clear a winding path toward the small grassy area behind his apartment until Storm trotted over to him.

She inclined her head, mouth curling as the silent man absentmindedly reached down to pet the giant puff of white fur.

Luke’s head swung to her, and she almost jumped, but caught herself and waggled her fingers through the blinds instead, hoping it wouldn’t be weird between them today.

Running her hands over her tangled hair, she eyed his bookshelves, hands burning to go through them. But Luke was kicking snow off his boots and coming back inside.

She made the bed instead and prepared to face him. What would she say to him? Would they just have another staring contest?

How did she act after stealing a stranger’s bed for the night? 

She was about to find out as the clatter of paws raced down the hallway and jumped on the other side of the door.

She stared wide-eyed as the handle went down. The door flew open, and Storm launched herself at Emilia.

Her breath whooshed from her. She tottered back and scarcely stayed upright. Huge snow-damp paws settled on her shoulders, and a frozen nose snuffled her face.

“I wish everyone were this excited to see me,” She said, giggling. Face twisting as the dog huffed a breath of hot air, her tongue dragging up Emilia’s jaw.

Luke’s voice cut through her soft laugh and whispers.

“Storm. Down. We don’t maul people.”

Storm gave her a look that seemed far more intelligent than it should, like she was rolling her eyes. Emilia nodded, whispering, “He’s a tad dramatic, I know. You just wanted to say hello.”

“Don’t encourage her, or you’ll have to fight for space in that bed,” Luke said, her eyes latching on to his as Storm dropped to the floor and padded over to her master, who went on, “she forgets she’s not a pup anymore.”

Emilia smiled as Storm perched regally at Luke’s side, head tilted and mouth hanging open, as Luke shook his head at the beast.

“I’m sure she can’t be any worse than some I’ve shared a bed with,” She laughed as his dog’s ears perked up.

Her tail whacked off the floor with an emphatic thwack as though agreeing.

Luke made an odd choking sound.

Emilia’s brain finally caught up to her mouth, and she wanted to smack her hand over it as he dropped his head and huffed a laugh.

“She won’t steal the covers, at least,” Luke shrugged and made to leave, glancing back to toss over his shoulder, “You hungry?”

Emilia nodded. Cringing as she peeled her damp shirt away from her skin. Wet paw prints marked the orange fabric as she followed Luke to the kitchen.

He moved through the world with purpose and grace. All hard lines, broad shoulders, and shifting muscle. A hidden strength simmering under his deceptively placid surface.

He worked decisively, gathering bacon, eggs, and sausages from the fridge before grabbing a frying pan and setting it on his gas stove.

She felt like a spare part as she hovered in the doorway, wondering if she should offer him a hand with it, but that wasn’t what came out.

“I’m just going to nip next door to grab some things. I won’t be long.”

Luke didn’t look at her as he nodded. She swiped her keys from his coffee table, jogging out of his flat and entering hers. It was as if she walked into a blast freezer.

Her breath fogged like pale smoke. She hurriedly grabbed a tote bag and filled it with anything she might need. Including her cell phone, which she’d forgotten in her urgency to get warm last night.

Her crooked Christmas tree mocked her. She gave it a look that would’ve withered a real evergreen. She waved a one-finger salute towards the garish collection of tinsel as she left her apartment, turned igloo, and returned to Lukes. The mouthwatering scent of frying bacon making her stomach grumble as she let herself back in.

She slipped into his room and quickly changed into a pair of violet sweats and a soft cream sweater. Their comforting honeysuckle and sandalwood scent mixing with that of Luke’s on her skin.

After using the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, she roughly braided her long, pale hair. She entered the living room just as Luke came out of the kitchen holding two plates.

She accepted hers from him, her smile hung slanted as their fingers brushed. A burst of static heat flickered through her hand. It raced up her arm in a sparkle of nerves, and she suppressed a shiver.

Luke’s expression never changed, but he held onto the plate a second too long before releasing it. She plopped down on the couch, mentally shaking her head as she picked up her fork and Luke sat down in his chair.

If he felt it too, he never let on, and she was too hungry to obsess over it.

Storm immediately curled up at her feet as she concentrated on her food. Breathing a sigh of relief when Luke turned the TV on to a cheesy Christmas movie and methodically worked his way through his breakfast.

Completely focused on her dwindling meal, she noticed the steaming mug of tea when nearly finished eating and only then took a sip of tea.

“Thank you. I should print that off and wear it around my neck, save my voice from overuse,” she said as Luke lifted his head.

“That’s not necessary, but you’re welcome.” His eyes lingered on her braided hair, dipping to her throat and jumping back to the TV when he caught himself.

Her chest was oddly warm as she stuffed a strip of crispy bacon into her mouth to give her something to do that wasn’t blurting out sexual innuendos or more thank you’s.

Though he was quiet, she sensed his eyes on her like they burned her skin. She gave Storm the last bite of sausage during a rare moment when Luke wasn’t focused on her, and she offered to do the dishes, refusing his help. She needed to give something back after all he’d done for her.

It didn’t take as long as she hoped it would. Unsure what to fill the day with since she couldn’t lounge around at home watching ghost-hunting shows and stuffing her face with the chocolates she knew Mel had sent with her other gift.

She perked up as a silly idea popped into her head, and shuffled back through and eyed Luke’s minimalistic monochrome décor. Nothing like her tiny jewel box home.

“Do you not decorate for Christmas?” She asked, holding his liquid gaze as it fastened on hers.

The crease between his brows was back. She had the strangest urge to smooth it away with her thumb.

“Like you, I wasn’t supposed to be here. I had to cancel when a job ran late.”

She arched a brow. Finally, he’d given a small piece of him to wonder about later. She squirreled it away for now. She might have to start praying.

If he’d gone away, she would be giving her best impression of a snowman by now.

“You’re here now?” She grinned, determined to make him laugh again and see if it was as compelling in daylight.

He didn’t answer right away, swallowing the last of his tea before his glittering obsidian eyes narrowed playfully. “You’re not goin’ to give me a choice, are you?”

She shook her head and bounced on her toes. “Come on. It’s Christmas Eve-Eve!”

And there it was, an unrestrained rumbling laugh she felt like a sparkle of fireflies taking flight in her stomach. Her hands tingled, pulse kicking up as he fluidly uncoiled to his feet and said, “I fear you’ll be sorely disappointed. I don’t have much.”

“I’ll make do. If we’re spending Christmas here, let’s make it fun.”

She didn’t think, just grabbed his arm and after he got over his shock, he let her pull him behind her to the basement. Her blood pounded in her ears as they flew through the heavy door and down to the dank basement.

It wasn’t long before she was squinting, utterly perplexed, at the small amount of Christmas stuff he claimed was his. Wondering if everything, even down to his toothpaste, matched his greyscale color scheme.

“Oh, Luke. This is just sad. Why is it black?” She said, swallowing a childish giggle, hands planted on her hips as she looked between him and the sorry little black tree.

This wouldn’t do.

He direly needed some gaudy tinsel and obnoxiously bright lights. 

He gave her a sheepish smile, scratching at the back of his neck with a nervy hand. Luke gave a half-hearted shrug as he said, “it went with everything else?”

She shook her head and sighed. This handsome man needed some flash in his life. More vibrancy. More—everything. She was happy to provide it.

“Okay. New plan. We’ll bring mine into yours.” She nodded once, mind made up. “It’s a bit battered, but at least it’s green!” She chirped and strode off, knowing he’d follow with his slight chuckle and muttering about her being hard to please.

“Actually, if you know what you’re doing, you’ll find it’s easy to please me. Color! Sparkle! Simple,” she said, breathless after running up the stairs.

She tugged her keys out of her pants pocket and let them both inside her frigid apartment. He cursed at the ice-laced air hitting him, shocking a laugh out of her as she caught him shuddering.

“I know. It’s so cold here; I swear I saw a polar bear putting on his jacket earlier,” she said, grinning as she drew another chuckle from him. They approached her Christmas tree.

He looked around the room, then back at her.

“You’ll be lucky if the pipes don’t freeze,” he said, but she refused to entertain the thought.

“They’ll be lucky if I don’t start beating them with the baseball bat I keep by my bed.” 

She put her back to him to assess the tinsel and baubles winking at her.

He laughed again. Her own mouth curled in answer as he cleared his throat and said, “Why is it by your bed?”

She spun to face him. Her smile broadened at the contrast of his charcoal and ivory shading against the kaleidoscopic backdrop of her living room.

The bland beige apartment bored her the second she moved in. It had seemed lifeless and empty. Within days, she set it ablaze with vibrant jewel tones.

Vivid scarlet and richest burgundy were most prominent. The darkest shades almost resembled ribbons of smoke. Brilliant yellow, burnt orange, and a myriad of other warm colors dappled every surface.

She hadn’t noticed it the day before, too distracted by her plight to see how the color enhanced him. But she saw it now.

Her fanciful mind made her think he was made of shadow. And what she saw as pale skin was all the darkness the frail winter light could burn away.

A soft golden glow emanated around Luke as if he was lit from behind by the setting sun. She almost wished she could draw or compose poems to commemorate the magnificent image.

Something akin to a shiver skittered down her spine as she realized he looked pretty at home here. Despite his apparent distaste for frivolity and strong preference for shades of grey.

Realizing she’d been staring for longer than was polite, she hurried to cover it. Rubbing a hand over the too-quick pitter-patter of her heart.

“My friends were worried about me living alone, surrounded by people I don’t know. I can’t fight, but I can swing the bat hard enough to get a head start and run for help,” She said, dropping to her knees and shoving aside the presents under the tree to unplug the lights.

Her hair snagged on the plastic pine needles as she slid back and rose to her feet. She gritted her teeth as the cold nipped her ears and the tree stole a few silver strands of her hair.

“They the same friends you wanted to visit?” Luke asked as he helped her move the tree toward the door.

Tinkling, shivering bells, and rattling baubles were the soundtrack as she blindly followed his lead. Catching glimpses of him through the mess of tinsel she carried.

“They are. They worry more than my family does.”

“You’re not close to your family?” His voice strained as she tripped into the hallway and shook the tree hard enough a couple of plastic ornaments jumped off their branches.

She sighed at the over-loud echo as they bounced away from her.

“It’s not that we’re not close. It’s more that we’re the human form of cats.” She snorted, head shaking. “We do our own thing. We all forget we exist for a while and then come home for affection when we finally remember we haven’t spoken in person for months.”

She paused for some much needed air. “My brother can be annoyingly loud, often rude, and dramatic. But he was a theater kid and has now graduated with full-blown diva honors. What about you? Any drama queens in your family?” She asked as Luke vocally guided her through his apartment door.

Luke didn’t respond until they found a spot to put their burden down. She wiped her glittered hands down her sweats, to no avail.

She’d find it in random places all year round. He left to find an extension cord. She gave a childish giggle at the riotous clash of her tacky decorations, now bleeding some much-needed color into his life.

He finally answered her when he came back, extension cord in hand. He began untangling the plugs she had tripped over.

“Drama queens? Maybe my sister Layla was, but she’s mellowin’ out now she’s aulder.”

She had to bite her tongue to keep from demanding more. Shake him. Each morsel he gave her only left her craving for a bigger portion. Desperate to understand him better.

“How many siblings do you have?” She prodded, recalling the photo she saw last night.

She hung like a fish on a hook as he looked to the ceiling.

“Five. Two sisters, three brothers. It was... loud in our house,” he chuffed, a glimmer of warmest mirth in his singular eyes as they met hers and softened.

“Ah, that explains why you’re so quiet!” She said, trying to imagine him as a child. Surrounded by screaming children with his nose buried in a book, escaping into other worlds and lives to find peace.

It was so incredibly endearing she couldn’t restrain her grin.

“Aye, guess so,” he said, one side of his mouth lifting as she nodded.

“I thought you didn’t like me for the longest time,” She admitted, smile slipping as he looked away and plucked an imaginary piece of lint off his grey shirt.

Great. Way to go, Emilia! Keep going, and the man will take up a job as a mime to avoid you. 

She had to open her big mouth and spoil the moment just as he opened up a little. Her huff was little more than a whisper of wind, but it was as if she shouted at him. He appeared to deflate as he considered how to respond.

“Why did you think that?” He asked, tone flat. His brow furrowed in such a severe fashion, she worried it was permanent.

“Oh, nothing. You never said much when I spoke, and I just assumed...”

It felt more like she was navigating ice-slick, treacherous ground.

One wrong move and she’d fall through it. Silence spun out like a reel of thread and wove a tapestry of ‘shouldn’t have said’ and delicate realizations that she had gotten him all wrong between them.

Faced with that reality, she wanted to replace her prior notions with the truth. Work out why he bothered to help her with the promise of nothing in return.

She edged closer, kneeling in front of him, their knees an inch apart. She leaned in and caught his wandering eye.

If he was a still lake, she was determined to be the stone causing a splash and rippling his previously unruffable exterior.

“You were always in a hurry. I didn’t want to keep you,” He offered as she hunted for a subject change that didn’t leave her on tenterhooks.

Thinking back to all the times she tried to chat with him, he was right. Rushing, rushing, rushing. Running late, as always.

She always saw him on the mad dash to her car. Damn. She was an idiot. Her heartbeat galloped, chest constricting as her throat thickened. What she’d mistaken as aloof coldness had actually been consideration.

Maybe that spark of annoyance she often found in his gaze hadn’t been directed at her questions during those moments. She just assumed her constant prattling was a nuisance to him. Perhaps he was waiting for her to slow down and listen.

She didn’t know what to do with that or the fragile flame dancing behind her sternum as she observed him. There was an echo of it hiding amongst the uncertainty in his smoky eyes.

“I’m not in a hurry now,” She whispered, and the room seemed to hold its breath as he inclined his head.

“No, you’re not,” he said just as quietly, more confident as he went on. “What do you want to know?”