Numbers

Chapter Three

It was a Tuesday in September, and Thorn wished she'd worn leggings.  The area wasn't known for being particularly cold, but the sun had started to set and the autumn air had gone from crisp and easy to breathe in to nipping at her bare legs hard enough to almost sting.  What was really annoying was that she'd thought about putting them on, but noooooo.  She'd decided it was probably warm enough she didn't need them.  

At least she was almost to Grahmn's apartment.  Hadn't thought that would ever cross her mind again.  At least not in a way that didn't involve some degree of sarcasm.  

It hadn't changed much in a year.  In fact, she was pretty sure that the same stairs were still busted.  Same worn carpet, same faded paint on the doors.  It even still flaked off onto her hand a little when she knocked.  

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Grahmn bustled around the apartment, hoping he hadn't left anything uncomfortable on the floor.  Things were so much easier when Thorn had practically lived there.  

He wished he still knew what to say.  Why did he even ask her to come?

Someone was knocking now.  Maybe it was her.  He didn't know if he wanted it to be or not.

He swallowed hard and opened the door.  "Hey," he said, looking at the amethyst-eyed girl standing in front of him.  "Hey."  It felt so dumb.  

"Hi," she said.  She swallowed.  The hallway was cold, but her cheeks were warm from the heavy sense of awkwardness she just couldn't shake.  Grahmn didn't look much better.  

He stepped back to let her in.  "My mom dropped off a lasagna a few days ago.  I think it was the one you like."

Thorn forced out a small laugh.  "Now see, this is why I miss your family more than I miss you."

"Then I guess you'll be glad to know that Belle's coming over later.  She called me last night and invited herself."  The stove timer went off.  Actually, it sounded more like a smoke alarm.  "Shit."  Grahmn ran off to the kitchen.

Thorn waited a few minutes before she followed.  Grahmn had never really been much of a cook; if his mom didn't drop off frozen meals every now and then, he'd probably starve. 

The kitchen was cleaner than she ever remembered it being.  Grahmn tended to clean when he was nervous.  Maybe he was just as uncomfortable as she was.  Then she noticed something.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah.  Why?  Damn it!"  He fumbled for a second when the lasagna started to slip from his hands.  

"You're favoring your arm."  

"Had a little accident at work.  I was doing a demo with one of the new instructors, he slipped, and something was wrong with the padding on the tip of his sword.  This'll be cool enough to eat in a few minutes." 

"Please tell me you at least got checked out."

He started to rustle around in a few cabinets.  "I had my sister check it out when I got home.  Do you remember Annie?"

"I remember she's a lactoholic."

"She doesn't drink when she's on call."

"Was she on call?"

He hesitated.  "No.  Did I tell you that Belle's been asking after you?"

Thorn moved closer and tried to think of the best way to move him to a chair.  "Don't change the subject," she snapped.  "Sit down and tell me where your first aid stuff's at."