Wax

Thirty Eight (2/2)

Certainly not the most common sight, I'd say. Which of course, left me mildly curious about its contents but he soon shifted sideways and angled the cover of the book in my direction, gaze peeking above the pages in amusement which um, then understandably had an effect on my wandering attention but a single glance at the cover was enough to identify the 'book' I'd loaned him two weeks ago.

Leroy taking pleasure in reading his old recipes written in the magnificent scrawl of a chicken was not something I could relate to. For instance, the mere sight of a review I'd written in my younger days as a critic—that silly long paragraph about the ice cream parlor's vanilla flavor courtesy of a certain idiot—was enough to ruin the rest of my day.

*

A little less than an hour and a half later, the plane began its descent and it was the Florence Airport; customs; bags; and for Leroy and I, presenting the passes we'd obtained for our little ones to be cleared. Once that was out of the way, we made our way to the arrival hall where crew members were gathered and checking their equipment. Layla had spotted us from afar.

"Settled the stuff for your kids?"

!!! Was all that appeared in my head after two hours of being in the sky, stumped for words or any sort of expression while Leroy simply nodded—taking her question in stride.

"Yeah." He reached down to rub Chicken behind his ears but because we were standing a little closer than he thought, our fingers brushed and I jumped, startling both his dog and Leo who'd been sleeping in his carrier.

"Good god. That—sorry, I didn't... um," I attempted to calm my supposedly intellectual brain. "I think the here are buses to pick us up."

Layla burst into laughter before I could register my profound English while Leroy's hand hovered above Chicken's head—where our fingers brushed mere seconds ago—meeting my gaze before glancing at Leo mewling and scrambling in his carrier.

"You're not wrong, I did drop by to tell Royroy about boarding bus B for contestants but, you know, I'm also here to prove a point about," she gestured to the distance, the space, the air between Leroy and myself. "The tension, is, peak. You guys acting like you don't know each other is doing the opposite effect of drawing everyone's attention. Just saying. Anyway. Time to go—half the crew's already waiting at the villa to film us arriving."

"Yes. Yes, they're waiting for you," I repeated raising my gaze to meet his for a second before backing out at the sound of emergency bells in my head. "You should go now."

He was warm and that was to blame.

How long it had been, exactly, since our last embrace; even a brief skimming of bare skin, warm to the touch—a sip. A sip after a drought was one that would turn into a wave; growing as it rolled, washing over the shore that was cold and dry and had, in time, nearly forgotten the comfort of its gentle stroking. The heat it once indulged in.

I struggled to return. Lingering still, in the moment that had passed.

"Alright, I'm out," Layla raised a hand before backing away from us both and turning to leave. "You catch up or we're leaving you behind, 'kay."

Leroy snorted, adjusting the weight of the duffel bag he had over his shoulder before grabbing his suitcase and nodding down at Chicken. His cue to follow. Then his owner turned to leave but quickly paused midway.

"See you there?" He said over his shoulder with a hint of something on his lips.

And fortunately by then, I'd recovered. "Well, not if you continue to look at me like that, no. I'd have to ring the authorities and have Raul translate the reasons for your arrest. Enjoy the rest of your day, Leroy."