Adapt (I)

TJR Garcia © 2020

SCARLET

The impact of the fall is nothing compared to the overwhelming relief and comfort I feel from finally laying down. I snuggle further into the couch, ready for the blackness to pull me under.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Boe leans over the back of the couch. I know this because I open one eye and see him hovering over me.

“Having a dance party, can’t you see?”

“Oh, yeah, I can see that. You are dancing your way to the shower so that we can go out tonight.”

I open my other eye. “Out?” That doesn’t make sense. Does he mean more training? Because if he does, he has another thing coming.

“Yes. I want to show you what hunters do in their spare time.”

“Rain check?”

“Actually, it just stopped raining.”

“I meant-”

“I know what you meant. Just go and have a shower, okay?”

I groan and drag myself from the couch. “This better be flipping amazing.”

“Oh, it is.” Boe calls to me as I shut the bathroom door and lock it behind me.

I have no idea what we are doing tonight but I do know that the warm water is making my exhaustion worse. Against every ounce of will in my body, I turn it colder, and I get a zing of energy, enough to get me out of the shower. I dry off and wrap the towel around myself before dashing to my room. He seems thoroughly engrossed in the map, for which I am thankful.

Now I am faced with another dilemma. What do I wear? Boe never specified where we were going so, I have no idea what appropriate attire would be. I sift through my tiny closet, that could be packed into a single suitcase if need be, and realize that the most fashionable piece I have is some skin-tight jeans and a t-shirt that hugs my waist. I run my hands through my hair, a habit I seem to have already picked up from Boe. I wish Caron were here. She knows this stuff.

“Is everything okay in there?” Boe asks, just on the other side of my door. I realize I have been locked in here for half an hour, trying to decide. I don’t think I have ever been faced with a tougher decision than this one right here. And no, the irony of that is not wasted on me.

“I don’t know what to wear.” I finally say, defeated.

“Can I come in and help?”

Okay, this strikes me as weird. Boe is definitely not the ‘friend’ type. He doesn’t ‘help’. None the less, I check to see that my towel is covering me sufficiently and I say, “Um, okay.”

Boe opens the door, and I can see that he is already out of his element. He beelines to my closet and considers my small selection of clothes. He retrieves the same jeans I had in mind and lays them down on the bed. His eyes flit to me, every so often, and I am not sure if it is to see if I approve of his choices or if he too realizes that there is nothing but a towel covering me. I try to push the latter out of my mind.

Boe pulls a dark green plaid button down from the hanger and places it with the jeans, and I realize that he is completely right. The two go perfectly together. He then nabs my converse ankle-highs from the bottom of my closet and sets them near my feet.

“There,” he says. “You can stop panicking.” His eyes are locked with mine, like he is afraid to look anywhere else.

I am gob smacked. “How did you know that these went together? How did you know that I was panicking?”

He shrugs, and strides out of the room.

I feel like I just met someone completely different. Boe was cocky and confident. This new side of him was more... human.

And suddenly, I realize that Trent, as always, is right.

I have a crush on Boe White.