I made a conscious effort to close my mouth, then stalled—grasping for time.
“...that’s not a question.”
He lifted his chin.
“That’s not an answer.”
As usual, it was that insufferable arrogance that broke through the spell. My eyes flashed and I folded my arms slowly across my chest.
“Why the fuck would I want to move in with the same man who evicted me from my old apartment in the first place? Why would I want to live with someone like that?”
“Abby,” his face melted into a smile, “I’m so glad you asked. Please,” he patted the water beside him, “climb inside and we can talk about it.”
“Climb in—” My voice cut off with a frustrated shriek. “I am not climbing inside, Nick! I am seriously debating whether or not to start throwing in electric appliances!”
He nodded slowly, lifting his hands like a cautious shield.
“Why don’t we shelf that idea for now—”
“NICK!”
“Look I’m sorry, okay?” he admitted, finally dropping the act. As if on cue, the jets of bubbles lessened, adding a more subdued note to his remorse. “I was just...worried about you. I was looking up the crime statistics for your neighborhood after our talk that day, and—”
“Wait,” I cut him off, trying to keep it all straight, “you were looking up crime statistics for my neighborhood?” There was a beat. “By yourself?”
For a second, his eyes cooled.
“I know how to work a computer, you know. I don’t just use them as coasters.”
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. There was another migraine coming on. And for the first time in years, I didn’t have a place of my own to run back to.
“Why were you looking up...” Then a more relevant question popped into my mind, and I changed course. “Wait—since what day?”
Nick paused, caught off guard.
“What?”
I opened my eyes and stared him down, growing more curious by the second.
“You said you looked them up after ‘our talk that day.’” I shook my head, more confused than ever. “We’ve never talked about my neighborhood. What day are you even talking about?”
Much to my great astonishment, Nick actually blushed. To my even greater astonishment, he bowed his head—looking suddenly shy.
“You know what day.”
My eyebrows lifted in surprise, and I shook my head.
“No—I actually don’t.”
“Come on, Abby.”
“Nick,” I emphasized each word, “I honestly have no idea what you’re—”
“After that day in Dior,” he interrupted. Now that the truth was out, he was suddenly in a rush to get it over with as quickly as possible. “I looked it up after that day we went shopping.”
I wished I could come up with something to say. I wished I could think of literally anything else to do besides just standing there. But again and again, I came up blank.
“...why would you do that?”