“Yeah, but that’s seriously awkward. And I’d rather not walk on eggshells for the next six months.”
“I’m not. You also don’t have to. We could still avoid each other.”
“Yeah, but that’s pretty hard when you’re upstairs cursing away at your machine at the crack of dawn and putting fake spiders in my bed when I’m not home.”
That does it. Esme can’t look at me, but she can’t turn her face so far and hard that I miss the scarlet in her cheeks.
“Fine then. Buy me a new sewing machine, and I’ll be quieter, I promise.”
“Done.”
“What?” She shakes her head. “No. I was seriously kidding about that. I’m good. I just have to do some fine-tuning or service it or clean it or something. Anyway, I’ll figure it out. You don’t have to buy my friendship.”
“What can I do to earn it then?”
“Nothing. I guess. I just…I know you’re not to blame. You were just looking for a room and all that, but I like my space, and I like my privacy.”
“I could make you breakfast every morning.”
“I hardly ever eat breakfast.”
“But you liked the omelet?”
“Probably more than you liked yours.”
“I could clean the house. Well, um, everything but your sewing rooms. I could also stock the fridge and make dinner since I’m sure you eat that. Uh, I could even change your cat litter or something?” I hesitantly add the last part.
Esme suddenly gets a wicked look on her face. Maybe not wicked, but definitely devious, which scares me a little. “Change Hector’s enclosure and feed him?”
Oh-oh!
“No,” I flatly state while I suppress a shudder. “I absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, even by threat of death, do that.”
All of a sudden, Connie pulls at the leash so hard that I’m surprised when Esme’s arm jerks. The dog can’t weigh more than a couple of pounds, but take her outside, and a person might as well be walking a horse.
“Why?” Esme asks while walking faster to keep up with her dog. “Why are you trying so hard? Is it that important to you that we get along?”
It must be the wheels. They let the little poof ball roll along even faster than any normal dog could walk. She just has to scoot with her back legs, and away she goes. Talented dog. She can do a lot with the legs she does have. She’s pretty cool, actually. I’m not a little dog kind of person, but I imagine this little white fluffer with the adorable dance she does on those back legs of hers, her tiny front legs, and her big brown eyes could grow on me.
“Yes,” I say solemnly. “It is.”
And suddenly, it is. It’s not just about the car, which confuses even me. Maybe it’s the challenge of earning something that isn’t easily given. I’ve always liked puzzles, and Esme is certainly a puzzle. Maybe it’s also because she’s a good person and has been hurt before, which is a challenge too. I’d like to make it right, even though I know the chances I could ever do that are exceptionally slim.
“Fine,” she huffs quickly, too quickly. Like she doesn’t really mean it. “If you can clean, make dinner, change the cat litter, and fix my sewing machine, you have a deal.”
“That’s a pretty good deal.”
“For me, maybe,” she states shamelessly.
“Yes, for me too.”
“You’re never going to be able to fix my sewing machine.”
“I feel like this is a little bit like the hair in the omelet throw down. Somehow, we’re still going for a walk right now, even though I lost the challenge.”
Esme bites down on her bottom lip with her pearly top teeth. When she closes her mouth, there are indents in her lip as she worked at it so furiously. “Actually, it was me. I put the hair in there. I’m too nice, though, and the guilt ate me up, so instead of fessing up, I agreed to the walk.”
“Are you serious?!” I asked, shocked.
She nods and walks even faster, falling into silence. I let her keep the extra step ahead. It obviously makes her more comfortable, and this is a start—kind of. I think so anyway, and at least I now have something to do with my extra time. Esme’s honesty kind of knocks me on my ass because no one is ever that blunt. No one is that open. So, maybe earning her trust won’t be as hard as I think it will be. Perhaps we really can be friends, and she will let me look out for her.
Or maybe she’ll find out I lied to her about being in league with her great-grandpa before I can think of a way to explain it to her, and she’ll hate me for life. I mean, I wasn’t lying about the deal being for me to be here to date her or get into her pants, and that’s what she asked. I just lied about the rest, which is complicated.