“Good friends?”
“Well, for most of our lives we’ve simply tolerated each other. But lately, after Pie came, we’ve gotten closer.”
“Pie?”
I really need to shut up. “She lives there too.”
“But she’s new?”
“Yes. Very new.”
“So you take on new people?”
“Well… technically, yes. We do. We’ve taken on a lot of new people lately. But it’s a recent thing as well.”
She stops walking and turns to face me. “Do you think I might fit in up there?”
I just blink at her for a moment. “You want to come up to the sanctuary?”
She nods.
And I hesitate. Which is the wrong thing to do, because it only takes her a few seconds to backtrack. “Never mind. It was stupid of me to ask. I mean, we don’t even know each other. And I’m the town weirdo.” She drops my hand, turns around, and starts walking back to the parking lot.
“Where are you going?”
She stops. Her shoulders slump. Then she sighs. “You don’t have to pretend, Tomas.”
“Pretend what? I don’t understand.”
She turns to face me. Her mood… not dark, not angry. Sad, I think. “You don’t have to pretend that you like me.”
“Why would I be pretending?”
“Are you kidding? Look at you.”
I look down at myself. I’m wearing a blue and red checked flannel, a black t-shirt underneath, a pair of light jeans, and work boots. Pie helped me choose clothes from the hallways a couple weeks ago. She said it would make me blend in with the people in town. And she was right. Madeline is wearing a flannel as well. Brown and scarlet. But she’s wearing a heavy canvas coat too, since it’s chilly out. “It is quite a nice outfit, but I don’t understand what this has to do with pretending.”
This makes her chuckle. “I don’t get you.”
“What’s not to get?”
“Tomas. You’re… hot. Like… supernaturally hot. Like…” She cannot find her words, so she just shakes her head.
“When you say ‘hot’ you mean figuratively. I’m not on fire, right?” I look down at my arms to make sure.
This makes her guffaw. “Oh, man. See? Are you fucking with me?”
“Fucking with you? Like… pulling your leg or teasing you?”
“Yes.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because… look at you. And then… look at me.”
“I am looking at you. And I like what I see.”
“This.” She points at me. “Why would you like me, Tomas? Why are you even here with me?”