Just As Much Page 12

  “I figured you would get hungry,” Matt says coming up from behind me.

  “I didn’t feel well earlier,” I say pulling the pizza out.

  “Right…” he says.

  “What are you doing up so late?”

  “I had a gig DJing tonight,” he says pulling up a stool and sitting beside me.

  “Did everyone hear us fighting?” I say grimacing.

  “Our neighbor, Old Jim? He lives at least ten acres that direction—he heard you fighting,” Matt says pointing out the kitchen window. I shake my head.

  “I should probably warn you he heard you crying too. I told him to leave you alone and let you calm down. He wanted to barge in your room.”

  “Thank you for that,” I say softly.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I can’t believe him. He basically told your mother to take pity on me,” I say eating my pizza.

  “I am sure he didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

  “Don’t defend him. This is my pity pizza party,” I say with my mouth full. Matt laughs.

  “He was upset all evening.”

  “He was upset all day. He had no right to even ask that of your mother—to use me like that.”

  “Did you ever think that he is actually worried about you?” Matt says.

  “I know he is, but I don’t need his charity.”

  “You’re smart, Fee. But you’ve got to be smart enough to know when you need help. Do you have an idea how you are going to afford coming back in January?”

  “No.”

  “Then...”

  “But I should be the one to figure that out. Not have some knight in shining armor swoop in with his gorgeous face and Mommy’s credit card. I am tired of living off of other people’s charity, Matt.”

  “Felicity, does it bother you more that Damian wants to help you or that you actually want to live with him?”

  “I do not want to live with him!”

  “You don’t?” he says cocking an eyebrow. Okay. I wouldn’t hate it. But that is a lot of one-on-one time and I am already struggling to keep my emotions in check. Not to mention a front row seat to Damian’s extra-curricular activities.

  “He hurt me. He told your mom that he only takes care of me because he thinks he needs to. That’s a button of mine, Matt. I refuse to burden those I care about.”

  “But does he think he needs to help you because of some obligation that you have come up with in your head or because he cares for you and wants to be there for you?”

  “Stop Yodaing me,” I say finishing my last few bites.

  “Welcome to the wonderful world of having an older brother,” he says getting up.

  “Don’t call yourself that, I have a bad history with those,” I say pouring myself a glass of water and sitting back down.

  “Then it is about time you have a real one. Go talk to Damian and stop sulking,” he says squeezing my shoulders as he leaves the table.

  “Oh look, he is here. How convenient,” Matt says from the hallway. He texted him. Ass.

  Damian comes in holding his hands up in surrender.

  “I’m overbearing,” he says sitting down where Matt was. I just sip my water and stare at it, refusing to look up.

  “I’m overbearing because I care about you. Not in the I want to get in your pants type of way, which is my normal routine, but in the ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you’ kind of way…” he says. My heart builds up hope, but I quash it down.

  I still don’t respond, I just take another sip and look up so that I am looking just past him.

  He sighs and runs his hand over his face.

  “Caring about you shouldn’t be a crime!”

  “Controlling my life is,” I say finally looking him in the eye.

  “I’m a fixer. I see problems. And I try to fix them. I wasn’t trying to control you or take over or any other fancy adjective that you threw at me today—I just saw a problem and I wanted to fix it. But I get it. I hear you, and I understand that I crossed a line and that I was forcing my way into your problems. I know your problems aren’t my problems, Fee. I just wanted to help, and I saw a way where this could benefit both of us.”

  “Tell me more about how my life’s difficulties can benefit you,” I say sarcastically. He sighs.

  “My mom told me that I could get an apartment this year. I was already planning on getting one and she was willing to pay half of the rent, but we waited too long to look. There’s one available, Fee. Right on campus and if you stay with me, I will only have to pay a quarter. I will save money.”

  “And?”

  “And if we do this now, I no longer have to live with a disgusting quarterback whose toenail clippings hit me in the eye last week,” he says, and I crack a smile on that one. But I can’t live with him. I am already too emotionally involved.

  “What I said to my mother was to get her to agree, and I am sorry that it came out the way you heard it, but damnit, none of it was a lie. Fee, you do have seizures. You aren’t taking care of yourself because you’re afraid to spend money. And you’re having trouble with financial aid and you are running out of options. It’s the truth. You want me to start sugarcoating now? Because we aren’t the sugarcoating type. You’re being stubborn. I wasn’t hiding this from you, I just wanted my mom’s permission before I talked to you about it.”

  “I can’t live with you, Damian.”

  I don’t want to live with him. But he is right. My financial aid is in shambles, I can’t afford an apartment on my own, and this will save me money.

  “We practically live together now,” he says—and that is true too. I tried living without him and that was just too hard. I don’t want him to get this apartment and be across town, I like being in the same building.

  “You are not my charity case, Fee. I was just trying to come up with a way to make your life a little easier.”

  I nod my head. Maybe, if we live together he will be less tempting.

  I guess I am moving in with Damian Turner.

  Moving In

  Damian’s family treated me like one of their own for the rest of the holidays. Gran bought me clothes and books. Donna bought me cross-stitch supplies and movies. I haven’t had so much at Christmas since Nan died. Damian bought me a bracelet with a little owl on it—and I love it. I have been wearing it every day.

  They all loved their various cross-stitch frames. Damian’s currently hanging his in the front hall of our apartment. Yes, our apartment.

  On New Year’s, Donna approached Damian and I with a signed lease. The cost of it is far easier for me to manage. I get to stay at school without going into even more debt.

  Classes start this Monday and Damian and I are taking the weekend to pack up and move everything into our new space.

  I have to admit; Damian did a great job picking this place out. There is an entryway, Donna and I made a welcome mat out of rags for it. Matt and Damian spent time together building a bench for us to sit as we put our shoes on out of wooden pallets. They even made a place to hang Zeke’s vest on it.

  The entryway leads into a living room and kitchen area. My room is to the right, next to the kitchen, Damian’s is to the left across the living room. Each of us have our own bathroom—thank goodness, I wasn’t about to fight for shower time. However, my bathroom is connected to my room, while Damian’s has a separate door next to his bedroom. He wanted it because it was bigger—I wanted mine because it gives me a little more privacy. It is easier to hide if I don’t have to come out to use the bathroom.

  Truth is, I am scared and Mere and Natalie are not too thrilled.

  “You are insane! I thought the goal was to have less Damian in your life, Fee?” Mere said when she found out.

  “What was I supposed to do Mere? This helps me and I like Damian,” I replied shrugging.

  “Yea. You like Damian. That’s the freaking problem,” she said shaking her head.

  And it is a problem. Going home with him only st
rengthened our relationship and loosened my resolve. I find myself enjoying when his hand lingers too long after touching me to get my attention, or I feel a physical pull to snuggle closer to him while we watch cable or Netflix. I stop myself, most of the time, but it is becoming a struggle. Moving in saves my education and could help my health, but I am afraid of what my body is going to do before my head catches up.

  It doesn’t help that I just had him an entire month to myself either. If we started off Christmas break on a different frequency than everyone else as Matt said, now Damian and I are on an entirely different music platform. For example, for the last two hours we have unpacked wordlessly, each one of us just knowing where the other one would want their stuff to go. Donna is staring at us shaking her head.

  Damian is struggling to hang his frame, so I hand him the level as I walk past to put his vitamins next to the fridge. Donna follows me in laughing under her breath as she carries a box of her old kitchenware she is lending us.

  “Wouldn’t he want those in the bathroom? He has a medicine cabinet,” Donna says.

  “No, he only remembers to take them when he has his morning coffee,” I say unthinkingly, as I start helping her put the kitchen supplies away.

  “Damian?” she calls.

  “Yea?” he says coming in.

  “Where do you want your vitamins?” she asks.

  “Bathroom,” he says and then he stops himself. “Wait, kitchen. I’ll remember them more often if they are in there.”

  I smile and Matt, who is putting together a bookshelf for us just laughs.

  “I am starting to think she’s telepathic,” Donna says to Matt as she squeezes my shoulders.

  “I think they need to get a room. Oh, wait, you’re giving them a whole house,” Matt says half as a joke, half bitterly. He thinks Damian gets whatever Damian wants. If you’re not careful, Fee. Damian may get whatever Damian wants.

  “Apartment,” I clarify going and sitting next to him.

  “Do you need help?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to stay this grumpy all day?” I say nudging him.

  “I am going to miss our morning chats. I love helping Mom with therapy sessions and working at the ranch, but—being the only child sucks.”

  “Well, you work in the city on Tuesdays, right?” I ask.

  “Yes. Eight to six,” he says.

  “Then why don’t we get coffee together on Tuesday mornings? That should cheer you up. I mean, if you don’t mind getting up earlier?”

  “That sounds perfect,” he says. “Now hand me the allen wrench.”

  “The whoie whatie?” I say and he laughs at me.

  Damian comes in and scowls.

  “If the two of you are done flirting, there’s more boxes,” he says, and Matt and I look at one another.

  “He’s jealous,” Matt says.

  “He doesn’t like sharing his toys, Matt. There’s a difference,” I say sighing.

  “We will just see about that,” he says, and I roll my eyes and go to grab another box.

  Donna lent me furniture, so I wouldn’t have to buy too much on my own. Matt and I carry the mattress up the stairs, while Damian and Donna finish up the last bit of unpacking. When we get it to my room and on the frame, Zeke jumps up on it, preventing us from getting the sheets on.

  Matt shoes him away.

  Zeke jumps back up.

  Matt shoes him away.

  Zeke jumps back up and sits there, tail wagging at him.

  I start laughing at Matt’s frustration and Damian walks in with yet another scowl. Zeke, of course, immediately goes to Damian and sits by him, waiting to get petted. He is such a traitor. Matt and I finally get my sheets and bedspread on and we both collapse on the bed. Damian purposefully walks over and gets in between us.

  Donna, from the doorway, looks at the three of us and smiles.

  “I think that about covers it. We should probably head home before it gets too late,” she says coming in and sitting with us. I sit up and hug her.

  “Thank you,” I say tearing up a bit. I have only known Donna for a month and she has done so much to help me.

  “No problem, sweetie,” she says as we both get up.

  “And thank you,” I say holding my arms out for Matt.

  He gets up and pulls me too him, picking me up from off the ground. I giggle and he sits me back down.

  “You’re welcome, Fee,” he says winking at me. He is purposefully trying to get a rise out of Damian and he is definitely enjoying himself. I look over and Damian is scowling.

  “Thanks Mom,” Damian says hugging her but still looking over at me and Matt.

  “That looks like sincere jealousy to me,” Matt mutters close to me.

  “You’re mean,” I say laughing and he winks again, heading out the door.

  Damian walks them out and I sit on my futon. That was a trip and a half. Zeke jumps up and puts his head on my lap and I lean my head back. I am ready for bed.

  Damian comes in and I hear him getting a glass of water. He walks over and hands me one and sits next to me with his own.

  “What’s with you and my brother?” he says. Maybe Matt isn’t wrong, but I am pretty sure that if he is right, it is because Damian is used to having me to himself.

  “What do you mean?” I ask innocently.

  “Uh-huh,” he says shaking his head.

  “He’s your brother Damian. We get along, that’s all,” I say. Matt and I may flirt, but we are certainly not into one another. I talk to him about Damian, and he talks to me about a girl he is talking to from high school, Lydia. He feels like a big brother. A real big brother.

  “Yea. Well. Ew. That is all I am saying,” he says.

  “If my sister wasn’t eighteen years older, I am sure you would want to bang her, so,” I say rolling my eyes.

  “So, you want to bang Matt? That is what I am getting from this.”

  “Who says I haven’t, kitten?” I say raising and eyebrow and he looks down right pissed.

  “Relax, I am kidding,” I say, and he visibly relaxes.

  “Alright. Well we should talk ground rules.”

  “Ground rules?” I say taking a sip of water. I am grateful he brought me something to sip on for this conversation. It’s an old trick I got from staying at Mel’s. I used to always blurt out whatever was on top of my head, I still do, but if I have something—water, any drink, a snack—I can put it in my mouth and think my words through. It saved me from Daniel’s wrath plenty of times. I am going to need that if I am going to live with Damian.

  “You know…” he says. Ah, so he wants to discuss how to get rid of his charity case when the warm bodies get here. Got it.

  I take a sip.

  “Ahh. I am learning your rules. For when you bring people over,” I say rolling my eyes. Not much better, Felicity. But polite.

  “You may want to bring someone over too, Fee,” he says, and I do not get this man. One second, he is pissed off that I am flirting with his brother, the next he is insinuating that I might have a one-night stand.

  “Let’s just make it a rule that when someone looks busy, they make themselves scarce,” he says. I shut my eyes—I don’t like that idea.

  “Yea. Okay,” I say half-heartedly. “Just no kicking me out on weekdays and I don’t want to see it.”

  “Fair enough,” he says.

  “Any other rules, your highness?” I say getting up to get ready for bed. This conversation is making the buyer’s remorse I have about this place increase significantly.

  “No. You?” he asks sincerely. I take a sip and finish off the water.

  “I’ll be sure to let you know,” I say sarcastically. He knows this conversation is irritating me. You’re showing yourself, Fee. Back off.

  “Alright, well goodnight.”

  “Yep, night,” I say as Zeke follows me to my room.

  Well, my Damian is gone. Fuck boy is back. Yay.

  Reality Checks

 
“Why would you buy that? That is terrible,” I say to the TV. Damian and I are watching House Hunters.

  “Because their budget is way too high considering their age, and they have no jobs to sustain it, and I am convinced that this show is fake,” he says rolling his eyes.

  “Whatever,” I say completely and totally involved in Karen and Mark’s choice regarding their starter home. I love having cable.

  “Can we turn this shit off now?” he says, and I hold on to the remote like a vice.

  “No. I want to know which house they choose,” I say. They are currently discussing how they want kids and what they would turn the rooms in the house into if they decided to have them. I think it’s cute.

  “They are talking about kids? They are like twenty-five,” Damian says as if he is disgusted.

  “What you don’t want kids?” I say looking at him.

  “Eventually, but it feels too weird. I’ll be twenty-two soon. It feels gross that they are only a few years older than me and have their shit together enough to discuss nursery schemes.”

  I laugh and keep watching.

  “Do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Want kids?” he asks. That’s a hard one.

  “I do, but that will be a mess within itself,” I say.

  “Why?”

  “Epilepsy and pregnancy makes for a lot of planning. Babies can get birth defects from my seizure meds. I would require special care. My seizures could get worse. I could have one and hurt the baby. I would blame myself if JME caused my kid to get hurt or miscarry,” I say not looking at him. That was too honest. I should go grab a water.

  “You blame yourself far too much already,” he says.

  I change the subject.

  “So, I talked to financial aid and it looks like I am all set to go. I can even do up to three summer classes after this semester. So, I will be staying here this summer,” I say. I want to catch up so I can graduate a semester early.

  “Good. Well, I was planning on looking for internships this summer if I don’t get a job right away.”

  “Really? I thought you normally went home?”

  “Home really doesn’t have much to offer in the job department,” he shrugs.