Accidentally Amy(12)

“No problem,” he said.
“Do you want to come in for a slice of the hot pizza I will be ordering the minute my fingers thaw?”
No. NO. Of course no, the only answer was no. He set the parking brake and killed the engine. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and said, “I’ll order while you drown in the hot shower. Deal?”
“Deal so hard,” she replied, sounding pleased with his idiotic answer.
They made a run for the door, which seemed like a moot point when she was already drenched. He took the keys from her shaking fingers and unlocked the building door for her.
“Okay.” The dim light in the building entryway seemed brighter than the sun after so much darkness. She looked up at him through a wet face of smeared mascara and said, “Don’t judge me for my furnishings.”
“I would never.”
“You say that now,” she said, opening the obviously unlocked first door on the right, “But wait until you see it.”
When she pushed open the door, it was like walking into someone’s grandmother’s apartment. She had a pink sofa, two matching pink and gold velvet side chairs, and a huge painting of a garden scene hung on the wall behind the couch. Crochet doilies sat on both end tables, and he was honestly surprised to see a normal TV on the other side of the room, and not a big 70s console with old school rabbit ears.
“You’re into retro,” he said, looking around at the turn of the century décor.
“You’re kidding, right?” she said, dropping the towel on one of the chairs and turning on a floor lamp. “When I moved in here, my grandma surprised me by furnishing the entire place for me; it was her gift.”
“Wow.”
“Right?” She crossed her arms, looking tiny in his XL Bears hoodie, and said, “I’ll tell you the whole story after I shower. Remote’s on the coffee table, beer is in the fridge, and my credit card is in my purse if you want to order the pizza.”
“I’ve got it.” Did she usually make a habit of not locking her front door and letting people she just met rifle through her purse? “Go shower.”
“God bless you,” she said, and then she disappeared down the hallway and into the back of the apartment.
“What toppings?” he yelled.
“Anything but pineapple.”
“Combo?”
“Yes, please, but no mushrooms. And don’t pick a bad pizza joint.”
Blake flipped on the TV, turning to an NFL game before walking into her kitchen. He pushed an order through on his favorite pizza app, and he heard the shower start as he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Mich Ultra.
How could someone function with only condiments, chocolate milk, diet soda and beer in their refrigerator?
He went back into the living room, and was about to sit down when a guy walked through the front door. A guy with a bushy beard, Adidas joggers, no shirt and no shoes.
He stopped short, looking surprised to see Blake.
Then his eyes went down to Blake’s beer and he said, “You drinkin’ my beer?”
Blake opened his mouth to respond but the guy laughed and said, “Just messin.’ Where’s Iz?”
“Shower,” Blake said, wondering what the dude would make of that.
“Good - I need to steal a few things. Don’t tell.”
Blake watched as the guy went into the kitchen, grabbed three beers and an unopened bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, then turned and headed for the door.
“Is she okay with this?” Blake asked, feeling like he should step in or something.
“Yeah - she owes me,” the guy said, smiling like it was no big deal. “Tell her The Darkling puked on my bed today, so I’m collecting.”
What the hell had she named after General Kirigan? “And you are…?”
“Oh, my God, clearly an asshole,” he said, and shifted the stolen items to his left hand. He extended his right and said, “I’m Josh - her cousin. I live upstairs.”
“Blake,” he said, hating the relief he felt that the guy who was clearly very familiar with Izzy was family and not something more complicated. “Her car broke down on the interstate--”
“I told her!” Josh shook his head and said, “I told her, after her starter caught on fire, that she needed to get a new car before she got stranded. But you know how she is.”
Blake actually had no idea. “Maybe now she’ll listen.”
“Maybe,” Blake agreed.
“Well, it was nice meeting you,” Josh said. “Hey - will you come grab The Darkling?”
Blake was pretty sure the answer was a hard no.
“I’m sick of her cat,” Josh said, walking toward the door, unconcerned with Blake’s lack of response. “Please come gather the beast.”
Blake felt like he was in an episode of The Twilight Zone as he followed the guy up the stairs and was handed a cat. The cat scaled Blake’s chest with all of his claws – dick move - but by the time she (he still couldn’t think of her as Izzy or Amy, so she was She at that point) came into the living room, the cat was purring on his lap.
She stopped and looked at him, eyebrows crinkled together. “The Darkling is sitting on your lap.”
“Why does that conjure the unfortunate image of Ben Barnes reclining on my thighs?”
She smiled. “He hates everyone - even me, half the time.”
He wasn’t sure how she managed to look hot in sweats, wet hair and fuzzy socks, surrounded by gaudy retro furniture, but he was uncomfortably attracted to her at that minute. She just looked so…at home, like she was freshly-showered and ready to settle in for the night.