When August Ends

I ended up clearing the entire kitchen table so I could get the guinea pig cage off the floor. Their cage was a little unsightly for visitors, but they were damn cute. I never had brought them back to Heather’s. I was probably crazy for taking them in permanently, but I was growing attached to their little rodent asses.

I’d told Heather to let me know when someone was coming to see the property, that I could leave the boathouse during the showings. So when she’d called me earlier to tell me someone had made an appointment, I took a ride to a local discount furniture store to kill time.

One of the things missing from the boathouse was a place for people to sit. I thought it might look nice for potential buyers if there was a small sofa there—something other than just the bed to make the space seem like a home, rather than a glorified bedroom. There was barely space for anything else, but there was just enough room to make it work if I moved the bed a certain way. It also crossed my mind that one of the main reasons I never invited Heather inside was because there was no comfortable place for us to sit together except for the bed. By adding a piece of furniture, I could invite her inside without it feeling awkward.

I picked up a small loveseat from the furniture store and loaded it in the back of my truck.

By the time I returned to the boathouse, the showing was over. I could tell they had already been inside because a chair was misplaced.

“How did it go?” I asked the guinea pigs.

I grabbed some chopped cucumbers from the fridge and fed my furry friends with chopsticks. That was always calming for me.

Afterward, I went back out to the truck and set the loveseat up in the corner of the room, right across from the television.

Plopping myself down on it, I remembered it was Heather’s night off. I wondered if I should ask her if she wanted to come over and watch a movie.

Why does the thought of that make my pulse race?

Ever since the morning I’d caught her snooping on me, I hadn’t been able to shake it. As crazy and inappropriate as the whole thing was, her little voyeur act had made it into my fantasies several times since. I couldn’t step into the shower anymore without imagining her outside that window, listening in or even watching while I took care of business. The whole thing was kind of freaky to begin with, because while she had thought I was screwing Kira in the shower that morning, I’d actually been getting off to thoughts of her. Pretty freaking ironic.

I’d almost messed up that day, too. Though I wasn’t going to act on my impulses, I somehow needed her to understand she didn’t need to worry about me and Kira. As fucked-up as it may sound, even if I had an interest in Kira—which I didn’t—I would never do anything to hurt Heather while I was here.

I had needed her to know that, and in the process, I’d lost control of my feelings when I touched her—a poor judgment call that likely confused her. I’d been trying lately to act as “normal” as possible to reverse whatever mixed signals I’d sent her that day. Part of that meant not avoiding her or acting any differently. So I suppose that could be an argument in favor of inviting her over for a movie tonight.

After a half-hour of going back and forth about it, I picked up the phone and dialed her.

“Hey, Noah,” she answered.

“You around tonight?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

Why am I sweating?

“You feel like watching a movie?”

“That’s strange…” she said.

“What’s strange?”

“You’re inviting me inside the boathouse. You never do that.”

No shit.

“Well, I have a spot we can sit now.”

“What do you mean?”

Rubbing my temple, I said, “I bought a small couch.” I intentionally refrained from using the word loveseat.

“You did?”

“I figured it would be nice to have one. You know…for the showings.”

Right.

For the showings.

There was one reason and one reason alone why I’d bought this damn couch, and it had nothing to do with comfort. I wanted more time with her before we went our separate ways. Some nights, it was too muggy to sit outside with all the mosquitos. Even if we couldn’t have more than this platonic friendship, I wanted to be around her for the short amount of time we had left. She made me happy.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine. I got it for a steal.”

“Well, yeah, a movie sounds great. Can Teddy come? He’s been standing by the door wagging his tail. I think he wants to see you.”

“Yeah, Fathead can come, too.”

The dog had been to the boathouse a couple of times since the guinea pigs’ arrival. It seemed he no longer cared about them because the barking had ceased.