Thou Shalt Not(50)

The things my brain could come up with in any given scenario would frighten most sane humans.

I drove into neighborhoods I didn’t know even existed, past houses the likes of which I had only seen in magazines. I had a feeling their home would be in a neighborhood like this, but not even I expected the houses to be this spectacular. I expected a police officer to come out of nowhere and pull me over just for driving through the streets. The homes were all gated though, so it wasn’t like I could sneak onto their properties without serious home-invasion equipment.

The gates were open when I pulled into April’s driveway. It was just like a driveway you’d see in movies. It was white brick, right down the middle of the front yard, and looped around a fountain in the middle. The house was massive from the outside, Mediterranean in appearance almost. My house would probably have fit into the garage.

I parked to the side, out of the direct line of sight from the front door. I told myself I did this more for her than for my own sense of pride.

My phone vibrated as I got out of my car. It was another text from April.

Just come in the front door when you get here. Don’t knock. I’m in the kitchen.

I threw my phone back into the car and locked the door before making my way up the steps that led to the large wooden doors.

The creak of the doors I was hoping for didn’t come like it did in the movies, further cementing my belief that all movies do is lie to us. The doors opened without a sound, which surprised me, considering how heavy they certainly were. I guess when you pay as much money for doors as I am sure these cost, you bought the ones that didn’t creak like an arthritic.

I opened the door. Directly in front of me was a spiral staircase leading upstairs.

The kitchen was most certainly downstairs, but that was really the only clue I had as to where I might be going. I paused for a moment, hoping to hear sound, but got nothing. So, I decided to walk in the direction to the right of the staircase.

I walked through the living room, I think, and saw a TV that was one hundred inches if it was one. The furniture all looked heavy and regal.

Finally, I heard the sound of water running and followed it to the kitchen. I walked in and she was standing over the sink, filling up a glass of water. One was already full and on the counter next to her. She had changed out of her black dress and was in pajama pants and a tank top. There wasn’t anything necessarily sexy about her outfit, which for some reason made it seem sexier to me. She was comfortable enough with me to change into something comfortable, which said a lot.

I stood there watching her for a moment before I allowed myself to say something. There was usually a period of thirty seconds to a minute with her where I needed to catch my breath after seeing her, needed time to reorganize my thoughts. Thankfully, she had yet to notice me, which gave me time to breathe normally and let my heart stabilize.

The old, well-read copy of Dubliners was resting comfortably on the marble-countered island in the middle of the kitchen.

“This must be the book I’ve heard so much about,” I said, walking over in the direction of the book.

“Oh my god,” she said, nearly knocking over the glass on the counter. “I had no idea you were here yet.”

She held her hands to her chest, as if willing her heart to stop racing as well. At least I wasn’t the only one with that problem.

Pretty sure there’s a difference between being scared half to death and being infatuated with someone, just saying, I reminded myself.

“I’m sorry,” I said, enjoying her startled reaction. “I tried slamming the front door, but you had the water running so you probably missed it.”

“Smartass,” she said, hitting me on the chest with her left hand while setting the glass of water down on the island with her right.

“I should pour this all over you for scaring me.”

I secretly hoped she would.

“I’m an adult, ma’am. Threats involving water don’t scare me in the slightest. Unless you add the word ‘boarding’ afterwards.”

She laughed.

“I don’t think I have it in me to torture you the way our government tortures terrorists.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

Her smile was flashing more often around me. She really was getting comfortable with me. I wasn’t sure if this was good or bad. It would only be bad if being with me was comfortable in a “best guy friend” sort of way.

“Thanks for the water,” I said. “And the book.”

“You had better read it too. No taking it home and Googling it so you know all the details and are able to report to me without having read a word.”