A Many Splintered Thing / Day 12: "He's looking at the bougainvillea"

Dahlia
The big guy, and he was big, took a step toward her and she thought just for a second he was going to put his arm around her. There was a small part of her that warmed at the thought and it threw her. For the first time since Jasmine asked her to be a part of this teeny-bopper-movie-of-the-week plot she felt uncomfortable. Like she might crawl right out of her skin.
She shifted where she stood and very much unlike herself, Dahlia clutched her hands behind her back and threw herself straight up, her posture stiff, in the expected staff member ‘resting pose’ they were once coached on by Harrison Day.
She snorted and then felt her cheeks color. Caleb had glanced down at her and that meant she’d made the noise aloud.
They heard Harrison’s car door shut and Jasmine jumped.
“Problem, Dahlia?” Jasmine asked, her face tight with anticipation or fear or something she’d never quite seen on the woman.
“Nope. I’m good. Sorry.” Dahlia pressed her lips together and was horrified to find a small, bizarre giggle slip out of her.
She told herself not to look up at her new housemate. But something about Caleb worked as a pull, it drew her attention whether she wanted it to or not. She looked up and saw he had a single dark eyebrow cocked questioningly, a half smirk stretched his full lips.
She shrugged, swallowing down another wild giggle. “Maybe I’m having a stroke,” she said. And then giggled. The giggle was followed by a guffaw.
She heard Caleb mutter “Jesus Christ” but even with her head bent and her hand clutched over her mouth she could tell he was smiling.
Jasmine said, “I have no idea what she’s doing. She hardly even smiles for fuck sake and now she’s having a laughing attack at the worst possible time.” The tail end of her statement was more of a hiss than words.
Caleb touched the middle of her back, because she found she was bent over slightly, trying to get her fucking head on straight. She wasn’t sure if it was just the outright tension of lying to one of her two employers or if it was the bizarre nature of the request. When his hand touched her a striking heat spread through her body. She clutched her eyes shut tightly, took a deep breath and stood.
“I’m fine now. Sorry. Very sorry.”
They could see Harrison out one of the large front windows. “What’s he doing?” Caleb asked.
Another laugh slipped free of her and she shook her head, beyond irritated with herself. Jas was right. She hardly ever smiled for fuck’s sake, what the hell was going on? “He’s looking at the bougainvillea.”
“He’s obsessed with that stuff,” Jasmine said, rolling her eyes.
Dahlia nodded over and over, her hand pressed over her mouth. Caleb watched her, smiling—amused. “He is,” she confirmed.
“Why?”
Dahlia managed to get herself under control. “We have no idea,” she and Jasmine said almost in unison.
“What’s the story with you two?”
Dahlia and Jasmine answered almost simultaneously. Dahlia said, “Not what you think.” Jasmine said, “What do you mean?”
He cocked that eyebrow again just as the front door was thrown open.
Caleb’s dark eyes studied hers and she found she was holding his breath. They all rustled like a coup full of chickens. She had the thought, Why? Why doesn’t he just say fuck this and walk out? Why not go back to where he came from? Even if it’s the money, people work things out. Why is he still here…?
They heard steps on the tile floor and Harrison called out like the dad in a fifties sitcom. Dahlia stood up straight and when Caleb threw his arm around her shoulder and hauled her a step closer to his massive form she bit her lower lip. What coursed through her felt electric—alive—it was a strange and somehow welcomed sensation.
Ask him. Ask him if you manage to get through this charade without babbling and braying like a lunatic. Ask him if Jasmine’s a good enough lay to go through all this. Because I can’t imagine she is.
She was surprised to find herself pressing back against his side as Harrison entered, beaming. “There you all are,” he said.
Dahlia, not wanting to like the feel of Caleb, not wanting to embrace the sensation of him pressed against her, went rigid and then stepped forward. “Harrison! Hi there. Can I get you a water? I can make coffee if you like.”
He looked surprised. Of course he did. She was often surly and quiet and didn’t embrace her ‘help’ status. But now she’d do anything to not be touching Caleb. Because when she was touching him, she realized, her instinct was to touch him more.
“I’m good, Dahlia. You seem happy.” Harrison’s eyes flitted to Caleb who snorted softly like a horse. What the fuck was wrong with that man? Now was the time to keep their shit together. To not give anything away. She liked her job, for the most part, and knew, from firsthand experience, that Jasmine could be petty and cruel.
Harrison obviously assumed she was so happy because of Caleb being her. Best to embrace it. “I am. Thank you. Thanks to you I have…” she kind of choked on the ending. “What I’ve been wanting so badly for so long.”
She bit her tongue just to keep herself grounded. Because it kind of felt like she was losing her mind.
“Me, too, Harrison,” Caleb spoke up. Jasmine’s eyes narrowed but she kept her composure. “I wanted a new life. I was looking for something new. A chance, a risk, a challenge…” His eyes went to Dahlia and she felt something go through her, almost like a rustle, like a small tree in a high wind. “And now I’ve found one.”
The room went utterly silent. The kind of silence Dahlia had only experienced before huge, roof-shaking storms. The hairs on her arms prickled to attention. And then barely audible at first, they all heard it carried on the coaxing August wind: Help I’m stepping into the twilight zone…
A radio.
Before she could say “it’s the painters working up at the tasting pavilion” Caleb laughed softly and said, “Tell me about it.”


photo credit: mnadi via photopin cc