Julian

II. February, Ch. 25

     Calvin wondered if pancake stacks made good pillows. He blinked his eyes open to keep his heavy head from finding out.

     After Genevieve hinted at a proposal, Calvin could not go back to sleep. He spent the cold morning guarding Genevieve's slumber, asking himself what she could possibly want from him, other than help with a biology assignment.

     Was it free love as Roger suggested? If so, why didn't she initiate something in the motel? Why didn't he?

     Calvin chocked his paper napkin, lifting one corner of his mouth in a guilty grin. He remembered how Genevieve playfully offered to scrub his back in the shower that morning. If cuddling with her was pleasant enough, he could only imagine how unforgettable it must have been had he taken her up on her offer. 

     But he couldn't get his hopes up. Perhaps she wanted money. He did tell her that his father died a rich man. Then again, he didn't remember paying for anything when they went out. His grin melted away.

     For some reason, he felt used, as if every interaction between him and Genevieve was calculated. He looked up from his breakfast and saw her.

     The two sat on opposite ends of a diner booth. Genevieve wore blue jeans and Calvin's baby blue shirt, the same one she went to bed in. With her hair resting on one shoulder, she looked like a young and carefree flower child.

     Genevieve rolled the shirt sleeves all the way up to her elbows. "I'll wash this and give it back to you."

     Calvin studied her torso, all thoughts that she was using him gone. It was impossible to be rational while staring at her. "Keep it," he said. "It looks better on you."

     She stared at him, quiet for a moment. Flattery was creeping up to the corner of her eyes. "You're giving me the shirt off your back?"

     It was the shirt he wore for his college graduation, the one he loved because his late father loved seeing him in business attire. "It's yours. Merry Christmas."

     Genevieve's cheeks blushed. She slipped her arms under the table, like she was trying to keep herself warm. "I don't know what to say. Thank you."

     Are you kidding? You gave her dad's favorite shirt? The only thing that surprised him more than that realization was not having any regrets about it. He was convinced that Genevieve had a background in witchcraft.

     He turned his attention to the notebook and pen Genevieve brought with her. Its contents worried him.

     A waitress arrived at their table to refill Genevieve's empty coffee cup.

     Genevieve scooped up a forkful of eggs and Tabasco sauce into her mouth. "You look exhausted, Tang. Did I wear you out last night?"

     Calvin's eyes opened as wide as they could. Did you have to say that in front of the waitress?

     Genevieve smirked the way she did when she wanted to have fun with Calvin's discomfort. "Oh, who am I kidding? Based on how loud you were snoring, I did."

     The waitress looked at each of them from the corner of her eye. The awkwardness made her blush.

     Calvin covered the side of his face. Once the waitress left, he looked straight at Genevieve, trying to communicate his embarrassment with his eyes.

     She rolled her eyes. "I don't care what you say. You are such a virgin."

     A couple of heads at the diner turned to look at them.