Chapter Ten

"Alright… You little entrepreneur…" Chris smirked.

I chuckled at the sound of that word, wondering if I'd ever heard it outside of TV before. And to have him call me that… it made me feel so smart. Smart! It seemed like the best of compliments.

With both of us standing there, in the middle of the empty bedroom upstairs, Chris winked at me before reaching for the back pocket of his jeans and retrieving a thick packet of money.

"This room…" he pondered as he unclipped the packet. He touched his finger to his tongue, which only peeked out from his lips, then swiftly counted the bills, one after the other. "…Was it yours?" he asked, but his eyes were busy, and he mouthed the numbers as he counted.

"Yes… Susie and I used to split it. When she was a baby, that is."

"…And the other one?"

"My brother's."

"Oh!" Chris lifted his eyes, distantly amused. "A brother? How old is he?"

I shrugged:

"Much older than me."

"Are you close?"

I shook my head: "We haven't seen each other in like… two years!"

"Family, huh?" He snickered, then handed me the bills he'd separated in his hand.

I reached for them hesitantly, slightly uncomfortable: my mother had taught me it was rude to accept money from people.

"Come on, don't be shy…" Chris flashed me a confident smile, beckoning me with the bills. "It's yours. You've earned it."

I pursed my lips and took the money from his hands. It felt a bit too thick…

"I think this is a lot…" I ran through them, merely looking: My brain wouldn't heed me if I tried counting right now.

"I threw in a little extra, don't overreact. Just do something fun for yourself…"

"My mother would kill me if I did…" I rolled my eyes, thinking about her mercenary ways. Then Chris's playful, confident smile came undone, and his eyebrows tensed over those pale blue eyes that liked to study me.

"Your mother? I didn't think she had anything to do with this. Do you need to take this through her?"

"Huh? Well, I… no." I frowned, reading the right answer from his face as he reacted. "No… Of course…" I chuckled nervously. "I won't. I mean, I don't."

"Yeah… I thought so…" his sideways smile returned, this time feigning some playful reprobation "You naughty girl. Keeping the money all to yourself, aren't you?"

I smiled nervously again, pulling my hair behind my ear. I wasn't really the type of girl to do that…

…but then again, I wasn't supposed to be the type of girl I was, remember? – I recalled myself. I was an adventurous, outgoing 17-year-old…

"Sure will!!" I folded the money and placed it in my own back pocket, feigning excitement. Chris smiled, satisfied.

A minute ebbed in which I just stared; my brain suddenly too busy to invest in small talk. Chris watched me in my silence, reading the change in my expression. That was my cue to leave.

"I'll let you… do your thing.".

He nodded quietly, a meek half-smile stretching his lips, a slight frown above his eyes.

For the remainder of that day, I willed myself to give Chris his space. After all, he had just stuffed my pocket with rent money, and he was a man… - the word still made me shudder, even more so now, when the distant, fading memory of being kissed haunted my subconscious mind. He wasn't a shy boy who had no business but to be loitered about by me and my coy interest... He had his own things to worry about, his own attitude, his own poise… I didn't want to be rude or annoying by hovering around.

On that occasion, keeping away was actually made easier by this new and unexpected tension I harbored and struggled to hide: not telling my mother.

I couldn't picture a single scenario where that would work, and it anguished me that Chris hadn't reached that conclusion on his own. Eventually my mother would come by the house, or my father… what then? I pondered the subject all afternoon, and it tortured me even further when I received one of Susie's frequent phone calls since she'd left. This was a briefer chatter than the previous ones, and she could tell it was so because of me: Though I tried, I couldn't sustain a long conversation, because my mind was elsewhere. She hung up with a despondent voice, and I sighed, relieved I had not let my guard down and accidentally said something I shouldn't.

…The stress it caused me motivated me to do something before it got out of hand. I prepared a lemonade, the best possible excuse to invade, and returned upstairs just as the shadows of dusk deepened around the house.

"Er… Chris?" I called shyly from the top of the stairs, before walking up to the threshold.

Clearly, the middle room was Chris's room of choice: A small bag had been moved there, there were some notes on the floor, and Chris stood, hands on his hips, facing the wall, looking out the small square window with a view to the house next door. Outside there was a tall wooden fence separating the houses, and the narrowest excuse of a corridor one could think of.

"Pathetic… I know…" I held in a laugh, tray of lemonade in hand.

"Huh?" Chris turned abruptly, not noticing my approach. The crease between his eyebrows softened instantly as he saw me. Before that, it seemed he frowned...

"What, the window?" he looked back ahead. "No, it's fine…"

"I mean the small side yard right there, by the wooden fence…" I made up conversation "…it's like this house just pretends to have an outside space. But the neighborhood is nice enough…" I smiled embarrassedly. Sure, the house pretended… just like I did.

Chris just smiled and nodded, not really reeled into my uninteresting subject.

"So… what are you doing?" I timidly asked.

"Nothing… I'm actually just…" he shrugged, not knowing what to call it. "…planning, I guess."

"Planning…? What, the decoration?" I struggled with an excited smile. "The furniture?" My stomach swirled with the stimulating prospect.

Chris turned from the window:

"Hm? Ah, yes, as a matter of fact." he smiled "That's just it."

"Are you moving your things in?"

Again, he looked at me as if I had said something very foreign to the subject at hand, before looking about the room one more time.

"Er… Actually, no. I'm afraid I don't have that many possessions at the hotel."

"Right… the hotel…"

He smiled at my puzzled frown:

"I did mention it to you, didn't I? That I'm not from around here…"

"You said something about living far away, but I didn't think that-"

"No" he cut me off before I could trail much further "I haven't been here for more than a month."

"Oh? And what brought you here?" …to me, I thought I'd say. Silly me: I was still too shy for that!

"Work." Chris answered, his smile wavering.

"Ah, I see! And what exactly is it that you do?" Interrogating much?

"I design wiring systems."

"Wiring?"

"Yes, electricity…"

"Oh, of course! But… you said you were staying at a hotel? Is that because… you'll be leaving soon?" I couldn't do it, could I? - Make it sound like a regular, nonchalant question. I sure could feel the muscles around my face droop with the idea.

Chris chuckled a short, knowing smile.

"Not that soon. I was just so caught up in work that… I guess I just couldn't find the time to seek a place for my own. How convenient to have found it with you, huh?" He walked up to me.

I smiled shyly and felt myself shrink between my shoulders from the attention.

"Well… about that…" I sighed, remembering the only problem shadowing the joy of having him stay.

"Have you come to offer me one of those, or are you just showing me you can balance a tray?" He mocked lightheartedly, and I laughed.

"Of course, of course!" I slapped myself in the forehead. "Are you thirsty?"

"I'll have some."

As Chris drank, I began tiptoeing around the subject of my mother – of what an actual bitch she was, and how much trouble she had been causing me.

Chris had this way of looking at me when I spoke, of watching my mouth and smiling where I smiled, and of nodding as I nodded… he had this way of showing interest, of being engaged, as if his body language was saying "hey, I'm here now and I'm all ears", and it just made me keep going until I had spilled all my guts. He never looked bored, or anxious for me to leave. In fact, upon noticing this could stretch into a longer conversation, he invited me to sit on the floor with him, and I did: our backs against the wall, facing the window from where we could see the afternoon slowly descend into night. My voice alone could be heard inside that empty room for most of the time, as the blue shadows of dusk grew deeper. Chris sipped his lemonade and listened attentively.

"…And… you're worried your mother will cause us trouble?" He picked up when a tired sigh cued the end of my venting.

Us… that word made me blush, and I smiled disconcertedly.

"What… what exactly are we talking about again?" my cheeks must have grown truly incandescent with the insinuation, because Chris spotted it and chuckled.

"We're talking about me, as your room's new tenant." He playfully chided. "Not… whatever it is that was going through that filthy mind of yours!"

"What? No!!! I just…"

He sipped his juice, avoiding my gaze to deny me the chance of presenting an excuse.

"Well…" I cleared my throat, grew serious again, apprehensive. "She will find out, you know? Eventually." And I came clean about how I couldn't possibly keep this from her, it just wouldn't work. Not for long.

"So this has been causing you stress?"

I nodded timidly.

"You poor thing… I wish you had told me sooner. Don't worry about it, that's no big deal. When the time comes, she'll know, of course."

"But… that's the thing. She'll be mad I didn't consult her."

"She won't. I'll talk to her myself. How's that?"

"Well…"

"You say nothing… not yet, at least. It's just for a while…" he calmly planned "then I'll talk to her and request the place. Simple!"

Not a crease of worry marked his face… not a single shadow overcast his eyes. Is that what it felt like… to be one's own master?

"But you have to let me do it, alright? That's the deal…" he added "Your mother won't trust you enough with a decision like this. You have to make her feel like it came from her, you know? Otherwise, it will feel off. After all…" he looked ahead, towards the darkness of the room, amused and aloof "Why should she trust your judgement? You're a child…".

"Hey!" I protested, teased.

Chris chuckled, and the weight of that concern began dissipating from the air, replaced by something else – by that feeling again: us… and just us, inside the stillness of a painting.

"Hey!" he called my attention, I looked into his eyes… they gazed at me so bravely, I dared myself to look into them for longer, until we both smiled in spite of ourselves. "It'll be fine. Trust me."

I didn't know how much I wanted to hear that. And I didn't know just how much I could trust him - how easy it was when he sounded so resolute, so positive and tranquil. I was eager to let him take the lead, and once he had, my anguish was soothed, my problems disappeared: after all, he was the adult. He knew his way around all sorts of situations, life was not new, difficult and puzzling for him as it was for me. I guess I was indeed a child…

"Was that her on the phone?" he probed, his blue eyes fixing me in the dark. All I could see was their light looking down from his superior height – superior even now, as we both sat with our legs folded, arms on our knees, cup in our hands…

"No…" I grew slightly despondent again from remembering. "That was Susie…"

"Your sister?"

As Chris lent me his patient ear again, I told him about my sister, about our close relationship, about how we had been each other's only partner all our lives, and how she'd left… and I was sad she'd left. Again, Chris's eyes had that property of waiting on me, of making me talk more than I had planned, so I talked on until I said something I hadn't even realized myself: that I was sad to have things going on in my life that Susie knew nothing about. I was sad to take her phone call and say so little because I was afraid of revealing a secret. We had never had secrets from each other.

"You can't tell your sister everything…" Chris comforted me "She's just a child, and you…" he paused.

I looked up at his eyes, and they looked at me differently…in that playful, flirty kind of way. It made me color, and it made my heart climb my throat...

"I thought you said I was a child…" I teased, pursing my lips to hold in an embarrassed laugh.

"In some ways, you are…" He looked back ahead, moving his head from one side to the other in reprobation as he drank "…Other ways, you're not!" he half-moaned, as if annoyed, and sipped a big gulp, looking back my way to mark my reaction. I merely blushed.

"Anyway…" he resumed. "Don't feel bad. You're doing the right thing."

"You think so?"

"'Much as you like your sister…" he sighed, fixing his eyes ahead, towards the window, the empty wall, the empty space… "Can you really trust her?"

"What?" I was surprised.

"I mean, she's a child. Children listen to their parents. And from what you tell me… your mother can be very cunning."

I frowned, not liking where this was going.

"…How do you know your mother won't be using her as an instrument?"

I grew quiet, thoughtful, upset, and Chris respected that as he finished his drink. After a few minutes of me sulking in the dark, he turned his face to mine, to regard the extent of my distaste for that strangely prickly subject. His expression, meanwhile, displayed no stress. Even though it showed concern, even though he was being sympathetic enough, wise tranquility soothed his face, as if he knew better than to suffer over these little blots in life… he knew better, but he also understood I didn't.

"Listen… well…" he started, as if slightly disconcerted "…don't think about it too much. It's just how life goes. People grow apart. It's natural." he was warm, attentive, and I could tell he tried as best as he could to soften the blow, all the while studying my face to assess the impact.

"I guess I just forget…" I sighed, trying to take this the adult way and swallow it down "…how nature can suck!"

Chris twisted his mouth in an inconvenient smile, one he tried to control as he couldn't help but find me comical in my silly drama.

"Come now, there are a lot of good things too. It's just that, as you get older, some good things happen that you can't share… specially not with kids! Things that… you want to keep all to yourself, you know?" Chris's eyes teased. I couldn't tell whether he was being dead serious or flirty… but anyhow, it made me color slightly.

"Huh…" I nodded, intent on pretending to understand, but then those irresistible thoughts came crashing against me. I pursed my lips, prepared to risk throwing that question: "Well… like what?"

I braced, anticipating it: his chuckle, his playful censuring glance, the one that told me he knew exactly what I was doing.

"I don't know…" he shook it off "You tell me! Just like any secret, it tends to vary from person to person."

"In your case, then?" I chanced even further, and Chris rolled his eyes in mock impatience.

Feeling cornered, he chided: "Well, aren't you brazen today?"

"What?! You brought it up!" I laughed embarrassedly, to which Chris sighed, shook his head disapprovingly, then stared ahead, reflecting.

"Me? Well, I don't know… there's plenty I can't go around sharing, actually. For one reason or another. Nothing of great importance either, just… things. Personal things…"

I watched on, holding my breath. Chris fell silent again, as if reflecting upon those very things he mentioned, his distant and cool eyes spiking my interest. I must have looked very eager then, because when he turned to regard me, he was surprised:

"What?" he laughed nervously "That's it. I'm done sharing!"

"Sharing?! You didn't shar- That's not an example!" I pursued. "You said things!"

Chris pursed his lips, shook his head, stared at the distance, as if pondering whether he should. I put my hand on his arm as further incentive – to me, the action felt like the flirtiest advance I could possibly concoct. I pulled at it gently: his skin, the stiff muscles underneath, my fingertips burning with the contact.

"Things… such as…?" I entreated coyly, and finally his eyes signaled defeat: one stare at the ceiling, followed by a sigh, and I knew I had done it!

"Things such as…" he started, the raspy edge of a forced surrender marking his tone "…the fact that I'm hanging out with a schoolgirl, for once. That's not the kind of thing a man admits to his friends with impunity…" he flashed me a sideways, pensive smile "It's not something I could tell, even to the best of them. Not something your parents could know, for example. By default, you can't tell your sister. They'd deem it inappropriate, of course… To be fair, it is inappropriate." He mused, his face assuming a hardy expression that threatened the jolly in mine. We edged a painful subject, one I daily denied and pushed into the deepest drawer in my brain.

"…specially considering we're not exactly being saints about it." He added, looking straight ahead as his blue eyes swam through sifting thoughts "…One wrong step and it's not just inappropriate, it's illegal. Well… for a few months at least: after eighteen, there's nothing anyone can do - it's just an off-putting scene they'd have a very hard time stomaching."

I listened quietly, slightly confused as he stretched a malicious smile.

"I blame you, of course: for my bordering the inappropriate. I don't usually take interest in discussing morals with schoolgirls, or…" a brief reflection "…whatever else comes to mind every now and then." And he twisted his lips to conceal a smile.

My heart skipped a beat – the tone of his voice, that air of a playful declaration confided in the casualness of the moment… it put me on my toes!

"But guilty or not, the truth is that, as long as I indulge in these unintended little encounters between us, I'm afraid I'll be at your mercy…" he turned to look at me "I can only hope you'll get there too: to that place where you've found something interesting that you can't share with anyone else. When you do, I know you'll keep these little talks of ours a secret…"

"I-I've found it!" I meant to speak confidently, but my voice came out only slightly above a whisper.

"Then we have an agreement!" Chris declared, smiling at me.

I decided to be bold, then. To hold his stare and correspond it – it was easy enough in the darkness that had set in. Lingering there, I let my head fall back, resting against the wall, from where I could watch him from a different angle: that night, that scene, the chilly empty air circling between us; my eyes adjusting, struggling to make out his face, the sour perfume of his aftershave overwhelming my dulled senses…

My head was light! My heart had found that rhythm again: that zone of optimistic tranquility, of near certainty of what was to come, the ground I stood on felt solid and perfectly still for once in those fretful young years.

And come it did: Having stared at me for a moment, Chris leaned closer, as he had done last night – for finally I was sure he had done it last night -, as if it was no big deal, just a kiss… one he was more than entitled to taking.

I didn't move. I didn't overreact. I willed my heart be still for a moment, willed my breath move out calmly, ready for him, accepting it with maturity… But he stopped within an inch from my face, and looked down at my lips with a frown creasing his forehead. He sighed, moved back, an unpleasant pull pushing him away.

"See? Here I was, about to actually make this whole thing criminal – something no one else could ever know about! How could I possibly trust you with such a grave secret?!"

"You could!" I shook, upset enough to reveal myself.

But despite my visible angst, Chris scoffed a condescending smile, as if I had said something very immature:

"Please! You little girls can't help wearing your crushes on your sleeves…" he marked with derision "If this is your first kiss, you'd be telling the world about it, and I'd be in much deeper waters than in playing cards with those boys!"

"What?!" I protested, nervously shaking "I didn't… I'd… It wouldn't even…" words escaped me as raw embarrassment and anxiety whirlpooled into an unpleasant storm in my stomach.

For the first time in Chris's company, I felt my cheeks color not with shyness, but with a sort of wound to the pride. My thoughts raced, looking for a good enough comeback, one adult enough, smart enough to prove him wrong, to earn his respect… or to at least express my discontent, and the offense I felt I had been served…

…but nothing came. Nothing but my stuttering unfinished excuses until I nearly sobbed with humiliation.

"Speaking of cards…" he interrupted at last, saving me from further failing "…Why don't we drop this subject for something more distracting? Less private, too, before we start something we'll both regret."

Angry or not, my face turned redder.