Across the Hall

Second Quarter

After a stint at a brewery with games and flights of beer and handsome bartenders, Maeve was feeling tipsy and light and wanted someone to flirt with, to tell her she looked pretty, to kiss, and texted Patrick, "U up?" laughing at its clicheness, its obviousness that turned into a smile. There was no need for games in this. She called a car to his apartment even before she'd heard back.

When he messaged back, he said, "Out with the guys. I'll meet you back soonish."

She texted, "Can I wait in your apartment?"

He responded, "Warm up the bed, will you?"

She opened the door to his apartment, laughing at their stupidness for leaving it always unlocked, when suddenly the fridge closed and Jack stood up from behind it, holding a glass to his lips.

"Hello," he said.

She screamed a little at his sudden appearance and hid behind the front door. Peeking behind it, she said, "Hello."

He smiled, eyes crinkling, and then seemed to try to hide its brightness behind the glass.

"I'm waiting for Patrick," she said.

He frowned. "I'm not sure when he'll be back."

"Soonish," she said and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. "What are you drinking?"

"It's a bit of an experiment."

She held out her hand, wiggling her fingers. "I'm interested. Please," she said and he handed it over.

She took a tentative sip. It tasted warm, like cardamom and cinnamon, before it receded to the thick taste of bourbon. "Interesting," she said. "How do you get it to be so smooth with the spices? I don't see any in here."

"I infused the bottle: cinnamon sticks and anise. I'll make you something."

"I like the way I'm treated here."

"Do you?" he asked.

She asked, "You didn't feel like going out tonight with the guys?"

He turned back momentarily, a shaker in his hands, but didn't look at her. "Dan and Harry are on dates actually; they found two people willing to double with them. If it works out we'll have to check their heads, but they seemed happy before they left. I'm taking a night off, or in, I suppose. Patrick, he,"—his neck was turning so red she felt sorry for him–"he..."

"He took someone out?" she said, smiling at him. "We're not exclusive you know; you don't have to look so horrified to break the news to me. Sometimes he shows me the girls he swipes on. I think he gets off if I approve. We're casual. No strings." She waved her hand. "You can proceed to turn back to your usual color."

He looked at her then, his mouth a firm hard line before he contorted it into a dull-cornered smile. "Here," he said, setting a drink in front of her.

Still she felt he put it down like an apology.

"You know," he said, "I've been thinking about your rat situation."

"Oh good, one of us should."

"There's a few things that would help: removing the bushes, moving the trash cans and keeping them sealed. People use bungee cords."

She waved a hand. "They've chewed holes through the cans. That ship has sailed."

"Alright, I'm texting Dan for those apartment listings." He had his phone in his hands.

"It's fine," she said. "We've come to an uneasy arrangement. This is their time and I'm leaving the house to them. They can throw a party, go through my liquor cabinet, try on my lipstick."