Pretty Thing (Naughty Things 1)

“You,” I say, slowly turning my head to look at her.

“Should I ask?”

“Nah,” I say. “Just feel good about it.”

She chuckles. Then pulls her car into her spot.

We get out, I grab my backpack with a change of clothes, and ride the elevator up to her floor—seven—thinking about how things might change after this weekend as we walk down the hallway in silence.

“I think I’m nervous,” she says, putting her key in her door.

“Why?”

“Because… this is me. And you don’t know me anymore.”

“What? You got a creepy doll collection in there or something? Doing witchcraft in your spare time? Oh, I know what it is. You’re afraid I’ll find all your sex toys.”

“You’re dumb,” she says, swinging the door open.

I walk forward at her urging but then say, over my shoulder, “But you do have sex toys, right?”

“No comment,” she says, closing the door behind her.

I walk down the short hallway and stop in her living room. Trying to get a sense of who she is now. Because she’s right. I’ve pretty much stayed the same all these years. Still live in my home town. Still do the same job. Same friends, same general style of clothes, same hobbies, same everything.

But Kali is a mystery and this is my first step towards unraveling all her secrets.

Her place is homey. Cozy, they call it on those TV shows when no one wants to admit the place is kinda small. It’s not tiny or anything, but it’s not big, either. Definitely not her dream home, I will say that.

At least I don’t think it is. I could be wrong, I barely know her anymore. But no one aspires to living in a one-bedroom apartment in a nondescript part of the city. It’s good. It’s fine, but that’s it.

Her color scheme is neutral, which surprises me a little. Just because she was never a neutral girl when we were younger. Always wearing girly things. Dresses, and hairbands, and ribbons. So for some reason I expected her place to look like one of those farmhouse decorating shows. Pinks, and light blues, and couches with feminine patterns on them.

But her couch is taupe, and her walls are a similar shade that leans towards gray. Her end tables are stainless steel and her dining table isn’t round, but square. And I don’t know why it feels off, but it does. Maybe because my dining table is round and her family’s dining table was always round so I expected her to be like us.

“You don’t like it,” she says. I realize she’s been watching me take in her place.

“I like it,” I say. “It’s nice. Very… city.”

“And I’m not,” she says, dropping her keys into a small glass dish by the door.

“You’re not,” I say, being serious. “You’re still that pretty little girl who wore summer dresses and pigtails with ribbons. You’re still that same girl with the light blue bedroom who had framed flowers on her walls. You’re the girl who helped make forts in the woods and climbed trees like a monkey.”

“Is that how you think of me? As her?”

“You are her,” I say. “So yeah.”

“I guess I am,” she says. “I still feel like her. Sometimes. But then I get dressed, and go out into the city, and I’m someone else.” She shrugs. “You know, I don’t think I know who I am anymore. I think I’ve felt this way for a long time and Kyle’s death just made it all real.”

I don’t want to agree with her, so I don’t. But there’s a part of me that agrees with her. Who is this woman who lives here? Who owns non-descript furniture and paints her walls taupe? Who is this Kali?

I’m not complaining. I don’t wish she were someone else. Or something else, either. I just don’t know her anymore.

So I get what she’s saying and how Kyle’s death has her questioning everything. Every choice she’s made since she went one way and Kyle and I went another.

“I know,” I say, walking over to her and pulling her into a hug. “He was you, and you were him. He wasn’t my twin but I feel that way as well. I miss him. So much. I don’t even think I realized how much until the guys showed up for work on Monday. That’s when it hit me that everything was now… different. And it was never going back to the way it was.”

She sucks in a deep breath of air and pulls back a little. Not a lot, like she’s hinting she wants me to let go of her. Just enough so she can look me in the eyes. Then she says, “I actually do have sex toys.”

Which makes me laugh out loud. “Is that right?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” And then she leans in and kisses me. Just a little fluttering kiss on my lips. No tongue. Just… nice.