Blacklake-Book4-1 Three Cousins

Chapter 27
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I woke with a nurse pushin’ my upper eyelid over my forehead, flashin’ a light left and right across my face. She turned all irritated-like, and reset an instrument that was whistlin’. Kriz was still glarin’ at his laptop. Didn’t give me or the nurse a look.

“I guess I fell asleep, huh,” I told him.

He managed a shrug. “Ezra.” I had to wait a second. “Been seen—over in—West Hamlet. With—the human.”

~ Ezra ~

After we’d finished eatin’, I really didn’t want the evening to be over. The conversation had been more entertainin’, refreshin’, than anything I’d ever experienced. So I invited Thomas to move over to the bar. I ordered a glass of wine I wouldn’t touch. He had a coffee. Decaf. Which I thought was funny.

I maybe had begun to peer a little too deeply into those brown eyes. Shouldn’ta be enjoyin’ his company so much. Especially after Ike had admitted that first morning, after they’d gotten here, that maybe he questioned Thomas’—how did he put it. Didn’t say character. But he had conflicted misgivin’s for bringin’ the human home.

But I still found it interesting to watch how his tiny little hands moved as he talked. Fingers often carressin’ the sides of his long-empty coffee cup. Couldn’t have a single hair toppin’ his knuckles. Why don’t humans have hair on the top of their hands? Fingernails, so fragile, thin lookin’. Maybe I’d even begun to embrace the short human-cut of his hair. There was a flow and a shine ya don’t notice in our dreads.

It was nearly midnight before I drew my shiny numb butt off my stool. My alarm was gonna be going off so soon. I’d pay dearly for this. He seemed reluctant to leave too. I dropped a Continental hundred on the bar, and we lumbered slowly for the door.

Who knew a human could be such enjoyable company. Wonder if he thought the same thing, in reverse. He coulda just been playin’ polite all night. In the parking lot, I almost considered takin’ his hand. No one had ever held my hand before. Except for Kriz, when he got uncomfortable in a crowd. So I had to be vicariously livin’ a moment that may never repeat.

Once in the truck, our conversation died. Maybe he was lost in his own thoughts too. Prolly weirded out that he’d had such an odd night out with a big ole, clunky ogre hen, destined to be a spinster.

I really have to admit. I liked Thomas a lot. Well spoken. Gentle. Kind. Nothing like what I woulda expected. Shame our friendship would be fleetin’. And I’d never experience what those soft, thin lips of his might feel like against mine.

Tears flooded down my face. Thankfully no traffic headed our way, no headlights to expose em. I let them go, hidden in the dark, so he’d never guess they were there.

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