Read Online Slip of the Tongue by Jessica Hawkins - Free Book Online

kitchen.”
    I follow him. His place has a hallway with four doors, all of them closed except for a bathroom. A three-bedroom apartment seems excessive for a single man. Then again, maybe he’s planning ahead.
    The kitchen has no candles, but there’s an overhead light Finn doesn’t switch on. He’s unwrapping something in a plastic bag. I wait in the doorway as my eyes adjust.
    “Light bulb,” Finn says, holding one up. “From Home Depot.” He’s tall enough that he doesn’t need a chair to reach the ceiling.
    “Do you have a flashlight?” I ask.
    “I’ll grab it.” He sets the bulb on a table and comes toward the doorway. He’s mostly a silhouette, barely lit by the glare of candles in the other room. The hollows of his cheeks are shadowed. He stops. It could be the low ceiling, but he seems twice my size.
    Adrenaline jolts me. This place is unfamiliar. Dark. Private. The air between us changes, growing heavy, uncertain.
    He lays a warm hand on my shoulder. “Excuse me.”
    Goose bumps rise over my skin. I’m blocking the doorway. I step aside so he can pass. My brain recovers slowly, unwrapping a thought piece by piece like a package. I like the easy way he moves. His unassuming charm. The way his bottom lip seems stuck in a perpetual pout. I’m attracted to him.
    “Do you mind?” he asks.
    I nearly jump out of my skin. “What?”
    He holds out a flashlight. “So I can change the bulb.”
    “Oh.” I take it. “Yes. Okay.”
    He gets into position. I turn the light on and shine it at him.
    He waves his arms in front of his face. “Jesus. I need to see the lamp—it doesn’t need to see me,” he says.
    I giggle and shift the glare to the ceiling. “Sorry.”
    “You will be if you blind me. Then you’d be forced to take care of me.”
    I mock gasp. “How do you figure?”
    “Out of guilt,” he says simply.
    “Guilt?” I tease. “What’s that?”
    “Ha. How much time do you have?” He screws the light bulb in and brushes his hands on his jeans. “That should do it.”
    I flip the light on. Nothing happens. “Is it in all the way?”
    “Yes. Are you sure that’s the right switch?”
    “It is in our kitchen.”
    I aim the flashlight along the walls, searching for any others. Finn removes the bulb and blows on it.
    “I think we’re screwed,” I say. “That’s a little light bulb humor for you.”
    “Very funny.” He tosses the bulb in a full garbage can near the sink. “Thanks a lot, Home Depot. Now what?”
    I get two candles from the living room and set them on the kitchen counter. “We forge ahead. There’s a job to do.”
    He tilts his head. “Are you sure?”
    “The show must go on.”
    He chuckles. “I should invite you over more often. You’re like a human inspirational poster.”
    “Hmm.” I try to think of something uplifting that relates to switching on a light bulb. A familiar quote comes to me. “I will love you the same in the dark as I do in the light,” I murmur, though I probably should’ve kept it to myself.
    “Now you just sound like a Pinterest board.”
    “It’s from Nathan’s vows.” I force a smile. “He wrote that.”
    “Oh.” Finn leaves the room and returns with a box in his arms. “Pots and pans.”
    I peek inside. “A lot here for someone who doesn’t cook.”
    “How about under the stove?” he asks, as if this is our apartment.
    “Makes sense. Where’s the rest?”
    “Outside the doorway, to the left.”
    I find a box labeled Silverware . Finn’s handwriting is unusually neat. I take the one underneath it too, since it has other drawer items, including a utensil organizer. The first two of its three labels have been crossed out with black marker: Marissa. Donate. Kitchen.
    Marissa? An ex-girlfriend? Is that the real reason Finn moved?
    I don’t ask. It isn’t my business, and I tell myself I’m better off not knowing. I return to the kitchen and get to work unpacking the boxes in a way that seems right to me. The