Beth commented and glanced over at him slyly.
“Hah! I’d be surprised if he could tell the difference between Michelangelo's David and Duchamp’s pissoir.”
“You never know... Maybe there’s a sensitive soul underneath that tough exterior.”
I almost choked on the juice I was drinking, so I sat bolt upright in the lounger and regarded Bethany over the rim of my sunglasses.
“Yeah, sure. I'll bet he writes romantic poetry by candlelight while we’re sleeping.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” she laughed, “but you always start off with a bad opinion of people and wait to be proved right.”
“When you expect the worst, you won’t be disappointed. And if it turns out you’re wrong, you can only be surprised in a good way. I don’t see any problem with that attitude.”
“Are you sure it’s the best approach?”
“I'm not saying it’s ideal, but I like it better than the alternative.” I shrugged.
I wasn’t in the mood for a deep and meaningful conversation, especially since I knew Bethany was right. It looked like I was turning into an angry, bitter person with no faith in the human spirit. Maybe I ought to make an effort to be less cynical, but really it didn’t seem to matter. The sad truth was that despite my show of attitude and my big mouth, I was a coward. Afraid of being disappointed again.
“You know... I think it's time our roommate with hidden artistic aspirations started contributing to the household.” changing the subject, I got up from the lounger.
I strode into the room confidently and, hands on hips, placed myself between Alex and the TV. Casting the joystick aside, he leaned back further and raised an eyebrow at me. I imagined fires being put out by one of his cold stares.
“Don’t you think it's time to earn some of the money Nikolai pays you?” I asked quietly, careful not to let Beth overhear.
“On the contrary, Princess. I don’t think Nikolai pays me enough. Spending all my days in your sweet company qualifies me for special, early retirement.”
“Oh really...“ I looked him fully in the face and pointed to the chandelier, “The bulb blew this morning and needs replacing.”
“You’re right.” he nodded and continued to look at me, with no intention of making a move.
“Are you trying to make me lose it, or am I just imagining it?”
"No. I’m waiting for you to ask me nicely.”
“It wouldn’t cross my mind to ask you for anything.”
“You don’t need ask me, exactly, just a few polite words: Alex, would you change the bulb? It’s not hard, trust me.”
“Are you serious?”
I couldn’t believe that he, of all people, felt entitled to instruct me about manners. God, he was infuriating. I narrowed my eyes and regarded him carefully, a wicked smile building at the corners of my mouth.
“Alex, honey, would you be so kind as to change the bulb in the chandelier, it would mean such a lot to me?” I asked in the most sugary voice possible.
I watched as a barely noticeable look of satisfaction appeared on his face, and smiled even more. Some men actually lived in the conviction that their word must always be the last.
“And please, while you do that…” I blinked at him like some kind of cartoon, “...be sure and get electrocuted, would you?”
Alex snorted in response, shook his head and slowly got up from the couch. Without breaking eye contact, he was looking down at me as if I were an insect that could easily be trodden under foot. While it was true that I’d spent my life surrounded by tough guys and had learned to handle them, having Alex leaning over me sure made me falter.
“Stop looking at me like that. ” I hissed.
“I'm not sure what you mean. How am I looking at you?”
“Like I'm some kind of dessert and you’re about to eat me up.”
“And risk f ood poisoning? I don’t think so.”
“I doubt you’d die, somehow. It’s impossible to get rid of people like you.”
Though it wasn’t easy by any
“Hah! I’d be surprised if he could tell the difference between Michelangelo's David and Duchamp’s pissoir.”
“You never know... Maybe there’s a sensitive soul underneath that tough exterior.”
I almost choked on the juice I was drinking, so I sat bolt upright in the lounger and regarded Bethany over the rim of my sunglasses.
“Yeah, sure. I'll bet he writes romantic poetry by candlelight while we’re sleeping.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” she laughed, “but you always start off with a bad opinion of people and wait to be proved right.”
“When you expect the worst, you won’t be disappointed. And if it turns out you’re wrong, you can only be surprised in a good way. I don’t see any problem with that attitude.”
“Are you sure it’s the best approach?”
“I'm not saying it’s ideal, but I like it better than the alternative.” I shrugged.
I wasn’t in the mood for a deep and meaningful conversation, especially since I knew Bethany was right. It looked like I was turning into an angry, bitter person with no faith in the human spirit. Maybe I ought to make an effort to be less cynical, but really it didn’t seem to matter. The sad truth was that despite my show of attitude and my big mouth, I was a coward. Afraid of being disappointed again.
“You know... I think it's time our roommate with hidden artistic aspirations started contributing to the household.” changing the subject, I got up from the lounger.
I strode into the room confidently and, hands on hips, placed myself between Alex and the TV. Casting the joystick aside, he leaned back further and raised an eyebrow at me. I imagined fires being put out by one of his cold stares.
“Don’t you think it's time to earn some of the money Nikolai pays you?” I asked quietly, careful not to let Beth overhear.
“On the contrary, Princess. I don’t think Nikolai pays me enough. Spending all my days in your sweet company qualifies me for special, early retirement.”
“Oh really...“ I looked him fully in the face and pointed to the chandelier, “The bulb blew this morning and needs replacing.”
“You’re right.” he nodded and continued to look at me, with no intention of making a move.
“Are you trying to make me lose it, or am I just imagining it?”
"No. I’m waiting for you to ask me nicely.”
“It wouldn’t cross my mind to ask you for anything.”
“You don’t need ask me, exactly, just a few polite words: Alex, would you change the bulb? It’s not hard, trust me.”
“Are you serious?”
I couldn’t believe that he, of all people, felt entitled to instruct me about manners. God, he was infuriating. I narrowed my eyes and regarded him carefully, a wicked smile building at the corners of my mouth.
“Alex, honey, would you be so kind as to change the bulb in the chandelier, it would mean such a lot to me?” I asked in the most sugary voice possible.
I watched as a barely noticeable look of satisfaction appeared on his face, and smiled even more. Some men actually lived in the conviction that their word must always be the last.
“And please, while you do that…” I blinked at him like some kind of cartoon, “...be sure and get electrocuted, would you?”
Alex snorted in response, shook his head and slowly got up from the couch. Without breaking eye contact, he was looking down at me as if I were an insect that could easily be trodden under foot. While it was true that I’d spent my life surrounded by tough guys and had learned to handle them, having Alex leaning over me sure made me falter.
“Stop looking at me like that. ” I hissed.
“I'm not sure what you mean. How am I looking at you?”
“Like I'm some kind of dessert and you’re about to eat me up.”
“And risk f ood poisoning? I don’t think so.”
“I doubt you’d die, somehow. It’s impossible to get rid of people like you.”
Though it wasn’t easy by any
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