Page 292 of Seasons of Love
“Yes. Very…anyway, I saw you struggling with something.”
He pulls his beanie lower on his head. I wonder if he didn’t grow up in a cold-weather state because he seems to struggle with it as much as I do.
“Oh yeah, I need to take my suitcase out of the trunk, but it’s stuck. I had to push it all the way back because of all the food.”
I should go back to my cabin and avoid Bubble at all costs, but since I came over to help, I can’t exactly run away now.
“Okay, let me see.” I go around him to the trunk to see where the case is stuck.
I try to wedge it out, but it’s not budging.
“Christ, what do you have in here? A dead body?”
“Yeah, I like to carry them around. My therapist says I have attachment issues.”
I snort-laugh and end up bumping my head on the inside of the trunk.
“Shit.” I reach for my head to see if there’s any sign of blood, but I think I’ll only end up with a bump.
“Well, at least neither of us is naked this time,” Bubble says.
I’m not sure if it’s the bump on the head, the freezing cold, or Bubble’s smiley eyes. Eyes that are basically all I can see under his coat, beanie, and scarf, but his quick comeback makes me laugh.
It surprises me, and it seems to catch Bubble too because he stares at me for a second too long before pointing at the suitcase.
“Come on, Coach, let’s get Jeremy out of the trunk so we can have a hot cocoa by the fire,” he says.
“Who’s Jeremy?”
“He’s the top boss in my dildo collection. What did you think? That I really did have a dead body in there?”
I stare at Bubble, dumbfounded because I don’t even know what to say to that.
I sigh. “Let’s get Jeremy home then.”
Bubble claps as I rescue the suitcase.
He closes his trunk, and since the suitcase seems to weigh the same as three grown men, I also take it up the porch steps.
“Christ. How did you even get this from your place to the trunk?”
“Resilience and determination, Coach.” He walks past me to open the door. “Also, a neighbor was walking past. I guess I’m lucky with neighbors, huh?”
Bubble’s cabin is most definitely an upgrade from mine. He’d probably run a mile if he saw the old stained wooden floors and the lack of decent furniture.
“Can I treat you to a cup of hot cocoa for helping me?” he asks.
“I really should get going. I have a few jobs to do at my place. Thank you anyway.”
He seems disappointed that I declined the invite, but just as I’ve seen him do several times around other people, he quickly turns it into a smile.
I leave his cabin and walk over to mine, picking up my abandoned toolbox before going inside.
The temperature inside is now considerably more comfortable.
I sit on the couch in front of the fireplace and think of Bubble. He acts like he’s made of Teflon, but something tells me there’s more to him than meets the eye.
Maybe I’ve been a little too quick to judge, but it’s hard to think straight around the guy who has somehow found a way to rattle my cage like no one else.
