After a few more minutes of watching, Greid stubbed out the end of his joint and stretched. “Okay, time for dessert.”
I stared at the two Styrofoam containers sitting side by side on the coffee table with mild horror. “I don’t know if I can eat any more.”
Greid shrugged, leaning forward to grab the plastic fork and spoon that had been delivered with the food. He flipped open the lid of his, revealing an enormous waffle topped with whipped cream, chocolate sauce, crumbled cookies and rainbow sprinkles.
“You can put yours in the fridge for later if you want,” he said, already cutting off a chunk.
I watched avidly as he opened his mouth wide—wide wide, those smile lines splitting open so he could fit the huge spoonful inside. He let out a contented sound as he chewed.
“Okay, it does look good,” I relented. Greid picked up my container and handed it over with a grin.
We went quiet again as we devoured our waffles, and by the time I passed Greid the rest of mine, I felt too tired and full to move. Greid didn’t look at all interested in going anywhere either, tossing his empty container aside and pulling the blanket closer beneath his chin so only his dark, sharp face peeked out from the fabric.
I couldn’t stop smiling as I glanced over at him repeatedly. This was probably a completely typical evening for him, but it was surreal for me. Surreal in the best way. And he just looked so… well, high, but totally content and relaxed, with a full belly and one of his favourite shows on the TV. And someone here to enjoy it with him.
This was a good first night in the real world, I decided, feeling my knee brush against his through our mounds of blankets.
A really good first night.
By the time we finished season one of Our Neighbours the Humans, I was falling asleep despite all the sugar and caffeine I’d consumed. As Greid paused before season two could start, I glanced up at the wall clock and balked at the time—3 a.m. We’d had strict sleeping schedules at the compound, having to be in our rooms by ten and in bed by midnight at the latest, and up the next morning for breakfast at seven.
I’d never stayed up this late in my life, which felt kind of juvenile. I was thirty-five, for fuck’s sake, not a little kid. I should’ve done all this stuff already. Eating junk and bingeing TV and staying up all night.
A flash of anger at myself made me pull the blanket off my lap. “I should probably go to bed.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Greid moved slowly, turning off the TV and shifting the mound of blankets covering him back onto the couch.
He scrubbed his face, his ears fluttering as he tried to untangle the strands of long black hair caught up in his little spikes. Not really knowing why, I reached out and carefully picked them out for him. His drowsy yellow eyes met mine for a second before he looked away, and I pulled my hand back.
“So, yeah. Bedtime for me.” I chuckled tiredly. “I feel like an old woman.”
“Nah. I sleep in late so I tend to stay up late too. My pattern is fucked.” Greid heaved himself off the couch and stretched out all his long limbs like a cat, jaw cracking open impossibly wide around a yawn.
His sweater rode up a little, showing me the lower curve of a slightly rounded belly and a line of green descending from his navel into his jeans. Almost like a happy trail, but not one made of hair.
I jerked my gaze away when my skin grew warm, standing up after him and smoothing down my wrinkled shirt. After helping Greid blow out all the candles, we went into the hallway. He’d lit all the candles out here when he answered the door to get our food, so soft, warm light glowed over the dark walls and up the twisting staircase.
It felt oddly intimate in a way that made my breath catch, especially as Greid followed me instead of immediately retreating into his bedroom. I realised why when he asked, “Do you want some water for bed?”
“Oh.” I stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. The burger and fries were really salty.”
Now that I was up, my bladder was shrieking in protest from the gallon of soda I’d drunk over the course of the evening. I followed Greid into the kitchen and politely thanked him when he filled a glass with water and handed it to me.
“Oh, hold on,” Greid said as we went back into the hall. “I have something for you.”
I watched as he ambled over to the console table by the front door and pulled open its long drawer. Retrieving a big brown envelope, he carried it over and held it out.
“The old man gave me this.” His lip curled with disdain as he glanced at it. “He told me what was in it. I haven’t opened it. Obviously.”
It was my medical record. I slowly took it from him, seeing that it was still tightly sealed. Abruptly, my eyes got a little hot, so I kept my head bent. Now I really wanted to hug him, but I refrained. We weren’t there yet, but I was confident we’d get there eventually.
Honestly, he already felt like a friend. I hadn’t ever had a true friend in my life—one who actually knew me. And even though Greid technically didn’t know me yet, it… felt like he did.
Maybe I just didn’t have enough of a personality to be a deep well of humanity to discover. Maybe I was as beige as the house I’d spent most of my life in. That was kind of depressing to consider.
“Thanks, Greid,” I said, my voice thick.
“Sure.” He shifted a little, half in shadows in the dim candlelight, then huffed. “Look, I know you’re a grown adult, but I just wanted to… Um, it might be weird for you to sleep in a new room and with, you know, city noise outside. So I just wanted to say that if you get freaked or can’t sleep, come and knock for me. Or go and watch TV in the living room or whatever. It won’t disturb me. But I’ll be happy to keep you company, Beryl. Whatever the time.”
God, he was so fucking nice. He was a total sweetheart, and I was hit with an overwhelming wave of gratitude toward him. Clutching my water and the big envelope so I didn’t throw myself at him in a hug, I nodded.
“Thank you.” Lifting my head to give him a smile, I said, “You’re a sweet guy, Greid.”
His ears fluttered wildly. “Shut up,” he grumbled, which made me laugh. “Well, um, goodnight, Beryl,” he said shyly. “I hope tonight was—Sorry if it was really boring.”
“It wasn’t. It was perfect. Thank you for dinner.”
“That’s okay,” he mumbled, ducking his head as he turned to walk to his bedroom door. “Night.”
“Goodnight, Greid.” I didn’t move until he’d closed his bedroom door, then I blew out all the candles in the front hall before making my way up the stairs, extinguishing each one in the wall sconces as I went.
I noticed he’d lit them all the way up to the third floor for me, which made me smile. And made my chest get a little tight. After feeling for the door handle, I opened my bedroom door and was met with the soft warmth spilling from the lamp I’d turned on earlier. The room looked even cosier at night. Shadows filled the corners, but I didn’t mind it.
After setting the glass on the bedside table and shoving the envelope in a drawer, I hurried to the bathroom to pee. As I brushed my teeth, I wandered back into the bedroom to draw the curtains, then stripped off my clothes and stuffed them in the empty laundry hamper.
By the time I was climbing into bed with clean pyjamas on, I could barely keep my eyes open. The sheets were cold at first, but the fabric warmed up quickly as I settled under the thick comforter. My gut tightened when hints of Greid’s scent drifted into my nose. Whatever laundry products he used smelled really good, and nothing like the smell of all our sheets and clothes in the compound.