Page 297 of Seasons of Love
I put them to one side and brush the sanding dust into the trash before finishing it with the vacuum cleaner.
“Now, this is what I call a productive day. Maybe tomorrow I can take a break from work and walk around the lake. Get some fresh air and maybe stop talking to myself aloud.”
I think I hear a thud, so I turn down the music and hear someone knocking.
“Bubble, how can I help?” I ask even before my door is fully open.
“Aww, you’re using my name,” he says.
“I don’t have much choice since I don’t know your real name.”
He puts his finger to his chin like he’s thinking about it. “Maybe soon. Anyway, how did you know it was me?”
I chuckle. “Could be a lucky guess, or it could be that I don’t know anyone else around here.”
He looks around and points at the cabin on the other side of mine. “Really? Why? Are they like…weird people or something?” he whispers.
“No,” I whisper back. “I’ve never seen them before.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, how can I help you?”
“You look like you need a shower,” he says.
“Thanks?”
“Sorry, that was rude. I’m bringing you dinner since you refused your nutritious lunch.”
I sigh. “Bubble, I don’t need you to bring me food. I’m more than capable of making my own.”
“Did you have a sandwich for dinner?” he asks, resting one hand on his hip while holding the box with the other.
“Yes, but—”
“I rest my case.”
“Fine, I’ll take it if it makes you happy.”
He thrusts the box in my direction and leaves.
“Sorry, gotta run. Have a job to do.”
I shake my head and go inside.
After a much-needed shower, I inspect the contents of Bubble’s box, and I’m shocked to see a fully prepared meal of grilled chicken, steamed vegetables, and rice. Even though I had my sandwich earlier, I eat every single bite, and it’s delicious.
The early day followed by all the work and a full belly makes me tired, so I clean up and retreat to the bedroom. Maybe I’ll scroll through the sports news on my phone before I sleep.
I turn the lights out in the kitchen, and as I walk past the window that faces Bubble’s cabin, I can’t help but look in that direction.
His curtains are drawn back, and while his lights seem to be off, he must have some kind of smaller lamp, or maybe it’s the glow from the fireplace.
He’s lit from beneath, and he’s dancing.
I’m frozen in place as I watch him move gracefully. He’s wearing a tiny top that shows his abs and the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen. On a woman, I’d call them hot pants. But is that the same for men?
Suddenly, he grabs a hat out of nowhere and does some tricks with it before it ends up on his head, and then there’s a chair. I don’t know where it came from.
