On the Way Down

Chapter Nine

The timeframe for clearing a tree wasn't an exaggeration. It's still there when the clock strikes midnight. So is the storm. It has continued rolling through in waves all evening, leaving the two of us housebound with nothing to do but pass the time. We've played Scrabble. Phoenix gave me a house tour, and then he cooked dinner. We haven't said a word about what we talked about before the tree fell down, even though what came out hangs between us with a life force of its own.

I'm also now aware of something I wasn't before the house tour. There is only one bed in this house, in the master bedroom. The half-finished room I passed by on my way to the bathroom earlier is the guest room, which Phoenix said he started renovating before he ended up on location in Las Vegas.

I still haven't asked what the sleeping arrangements are. There are other things puzzling me at the moment, as I sit beside him on the living room sofa, pretending to watch a movie. He has been a perfect gentleman ever since we realized I would be here overnight. It's gotten to where I'm convinced I only dreamed about him hitting on me last weekend, and that I hallucinated him holding my hand and brushing away my tears this afternoon.

My mind is in loops, puzzling over what made him back off on the most innocent of gestures like touching my shoulder or arm, or saying anything I could interpret as flirting. We've been sitting together on the sofa for over an hour, a gaping space separating us, like two barely acquainted people who have seats next to one another at a theater. If it's a psychological tactic designed to heighten my awareness of him, it's working.

What's your game, Phoenix?

I sigh without intending to and slump further into the sofa cushions. He glances at me, which is the first acknowledgement I've had from him since a comment about the movie during its opening credits.

"Is everything okay?"

No, everything is not okay. I'm confused, annoyed with myself, and wondering if this storm will ever wrap it up so I can go home and overanalyze why the platonic treatment bothers me so much when it shouldn't.

"Mmm-hmm. All good."

A blinding streak of lightning flashes outside and illuminates the room, like it wants to call me out on my lie. The lamp on the table beside me flickers, and then it and the TV screen go dark.

Wonderful. Now the power is out.

"Maybe we should call it a night and go to bed," I suggest. Sleeping will give us a reason for not speaking, anyway.

"You can have my room," Phoenix offers. "I think I have an extra toothbrush in the bathroom drawer. Let me find it."

He reaches for his phone and turns on its flashlight, then gets up from the sofa. I also get up and grab my phone from the table, then follow him down the hall, into his bedroom. He continues into the ensuite bathroom. I go as far as the doorway between the two rooms.

"Where are you going to sleep?" I ask.

"On the sofa." He rummages through a drawer and pulls out a new toothbrush in its package. "I'll leave this on the counter. Towels are on the shelf in here. If you want one of my T-shirts to sleep in, there are a bunch in the second drawer of the dresser. I just need to brush my teeth, and then I'll be out of here."

"Nix?" The nickname I used to call him tumbles from my mouth, surprising me.

He pauses in the middle of reaching for his toothbrush and meets my eyes in the mirror. I guess it surprised him, too. "Yeah?"

"You could just sleep in here, you know. It's not like we haven't slept in the same bed before."

He studies me in the mirror without saying anything. Thank God we only have the light from his phone's flashlight, because the longer he's quiet, the more my face feels like it's on fire.