Page 60 of Malaise
I nod, handing him a mug and snatching up my own donut. The cinnamon sugar sticks to my lips, and on instinct I dart my tongue out to lick it off.
Carver stands silent, watching, hunger in his eyes.
“Don’t forget your coffee,” I whisper.
He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and lets it pop before turning away to pick up the mug. I take another couple of bites while he’s distracted.
“What are you going to do if you can’t get any work?”
“Hadn’t really thought past asking around, to be honest.” He stands with the cup half raised, side-on to me. “Can’t remember how long the stand-down period is before I can get the unemployment benefit.”
“Well, hopefully you won’t need to, right?”
He nods, mouth full of coffee, and swallows. “Yeah, hopefully. But if it’s what we need to get by, then I won’t say no to a handout.”
I hate that he’s in this situation, and I hate even more that I’m the one making it hard for him. If he didn’t have me to think about, he could go home, but because of his dad he chooses to keep us away.
“When can I meet your dad?”
He shrugs. “I messaged Tanya this morning, and she said he’s picked up some cash work driving a semi up north, so he won’t be home until tomorrow. Even so, I’m not having you talk to him the night before your exam, Meg.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, it does,” he counters. “I’m not having that bastard upset you when you need your head in the game.”
I stare him down, taking the last bite of my donut. He watches me eat, and raises his hand to stop me as I open my lips to lick the sugar off. Carver steps forward and crowds my space with his heat, resting a hand on the side of my neck. I draw a measured breath, making sure I don’t inhale the sugar and choke on it. His thumb presses against my chin below my mouth, and he pulls the flesh down, presenting my bottom lip to him.
“May I?”
I tip my chin up in response. He’s distracting me, trying to get me to forget what we were discussing. Does it make me a hussy if I say it works?
He leans down and closes the space between us, sucking my bottom lip between his and licking the sugar off. A hum sounds in his chest, and I find myself placing my hands over his pecs to feel the vibration.
“Delicious.”
“I haven’t forgotten what we were talking about,” I whisper.
“No,” he says with a smug smile, “but it made you shut up, right?”
“Fine. You win… this time.”
“Always.”
***
The following two days pass in a kind of routine: we wake, Carver searches for work with no luck, and I study. He spoke to his dad when he returned from driving after some not so subtle persuasion on my behalf. Carver thought it was a joke when I came to bed fully clothed, but after I insisted I wouldn’t strip down again until he agreed to set up a time for me to meet his old man, he relented.
I get introduced this weekend. And now I’m nervous about it.
“What time is your exam today?” Carver walks in from the bathroom and sits on the edge of the mattress so as not to disturb my litany of textbooks and notepaper.
“Eleven.”
“That’s a shit time; you’ll be in there over lunch.”
“I know, right?” I set the pen in my hand down and roll to my back so I can face him better. “What will you do while I’m there?”
He reaches out and runs a finger along the bridge of my nose, smiling. “Don’t you worry about me, just you worry about yourself.”