I Know You

Chapter One

Blood seeps from the tip of my finger as I pull it out of the box of broken plates. The cut isn’t large or deep but it stings like a bitch. I unload the rest of the kitchen ware boxes off the dolly cart, praying that nothing else broke on the twenty minute drive over. Chantel, my best friend, huffs as she rolls a second cart of boxes through the door. The hair around her forehead curls and sticks to her glistening skin with the exertion of moving a million boxes in and out of the elevator. Now that the move is officially underway I’m seriously regretting choosing the apartment on the 45th floor. “Why the hell did you drag me into doing all this heavy lifting? Shouldn’t Andre be suffering through this with you?”

“He would be if I hadn’t broken up with him last night.” I say absentmindedly, searching for the box labeled first aid. 

Unable to find it I reach into my purse, digging around to find a stray bandaid buried at the bottom. I swear I saw one in the mists of coins and old receipts the other day. “What do you mean you two broke up?” Chantel asks, sending me an incredulous look. “You didn’t even leave the house yesterday, Naj.”

“Didn’t have to,” I say, ripping open the bandage that I knew was there. “I called.”

When I look up my friend is staring at me in something akin to disbelief. “You ended a three year relationship over the phone? Are you serious?”

“On FaceTime if we’re being specific, but yes.”

“And you don’t see anything wrong with that?”

A heavy silence fell within the space following her words and I felt the weight of her judgment stifling me, sucking the air out of the nearly empty apartment. 

“Please don’t look at me like that. It wasn’t working anymore, hasn’t been for a while now.”

“Still Naj,” she sighs. “You could have at least met up, said it to his face.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” I say, grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge and handing her one. “Although I do wish I’d waited until after all this furniture was built.”

Chantel pins me with another stern look. “Not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

Just then there’s a knock at the front door. “It’s probably just my brother,” Chantel says, opening the door and sure enough Eli steps through the threshold, hoodie sleeves pushed up, his dark curls messy. 

Before saying a word he steps past me to open the fridge, giving me a whiff of whatever sandalwood scented cologne he’s wearing. Grabbing a root beer he cracks open the can and takes a long sip. “Really feeling the cardboard jungle theme you’ve got going on.”

“She just got the keys yesterday. Be nice.” My friend defends. “Why don’t you make yourself useful? We need a break and Naj needs some furniture built.”

“You know how to ask for help right?” he throws at me. 

“Same way you asked for that soda?” I question, putting a hand on my hip. 

“ Touché. Where’s your boyfriend anyways?”

“I’m newly single actually.”

Eli’s face falls for a second and he looks shocked. “Andre broke up with you?”

“Not quite. It was the other way around.”

As if a switch flipped, Eli’s mouth twitches like he’s trying to hold in a smile. “Damn. Took you long enough.”

I blink at him, caught off guard by the smug look in his eyes. That easy confidence, like he knew what was coming before anyone else. Chantel shifts on her feet in my peripheral vision and I narrow my eyes on Eli. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that anyone paying attention could see you were already halfway out the door months ago. Honestly I’m surprised it took you this long to end it.”

I open my mouth to argue but nothing comes out. He’s not wrong but I’m not sure if I like how it feels having him point it out with such sureness. “Anyone paying attention?”

“Well yeah. You’re the kind of person that doesn’t shut up about the things they’re invested in. You used to talk about him all the time and then you just stopped.” Every word has me feeling more and more exposed and seen in a way I don’t think I appreciate. “It’s the same thing you did with your parents. You don’t talk to them anymore, right?”

I swallow thickly, training my eyes on the kitchen counter. “In the spirit of accuracy it’s them that don’t talk to me anymore.”

“Naj why didn’t you tell me?” Chantel asks, her onslaught of concern prickling me. 

“I didn’t tell anyone so…”

Silence stretches on for seconds that feel a lot more like minutes as I refuse to make eye contact with either of them. 

“Well, Eli it looks like you have some apologizing to do so I’ll leave you to it. Let me get your keys and your wallet, I’ll be back with some food.” Eli runs his hand over his face with a sigh as he passes off the items to his sister. 

We say nothing for five minutes after the door closes behind Chantel. Honestly it’s not that big of a deal. The whole ‘no contact with my parents’ thing isn’t exactly breaking news. Things were strained ever since they decided to move to a completely different country for their jobs and leave me behind. Getting to move in with my best friend and her family softened the blow a bit but after everything settled the glaring realization that my parents simply didn’t want or care for me hit hard. 

“I’m really sorry, Naj. I just figured that you’d already told Chani. You guys talk about everything.”

“You really don’t have to apologize. It is what it is.”

“Interested in talking about it?” Eli asks in a voice I’ve never heard before. It almost makes me want to look up and meet his eyes. Almost.

“Not in the slightest.”

He lets out a breath sounding like something between a sigh and a laugh as he walks towards the corner and stops before my pile of unbuilt furniture. “So which one do you want first? Couch or bed?”

I hesitate, then smile. 

“Definitely the bed.”

A small smirk pulls his lips up on one end and he nods his head at me. “Good choice.”

Chapter Two

The box currently housing my bed frame lies open on the floor, taunting me. Pieces of wood, metal rods, a bag of screws, and two flimsy-ass tools that I can’t possibly imagine being enough to build a structure meant to hold a full grown adult. I resist the urge to scratch my head like a confused cartoon character.

Kneeling beside the box Eli hands me the instruction booklet as he begins sorting all the pieces. “You direct and I’ll build, sound like a plan?” he asks.

“Umm,” I hum, turning the instructions around in my hold. I can barely tell if I’m holding the thing rightside up. “Perhaps you can direct and build?”

Eli turns around and pins me with an incredulously arched brow.

“I’m sorry, but this diagram looks like a toddler drew it.” Sitting cross-legged beside him I place the booklet between us, pointing. “I don’t even know what I’m looking at.”

“Anajah Lashae, unable to read a diagram? Has hell frozen over?”

“First of all, molecular structure diagrams are completely different, and secondly I’m not the problem. It’s just poorly illustrated.”

“Yeah, whatever you say Naj.” Eli shakes his head in disapproval but makes no effort to hide the growing smile on his full lips. “I’ll direct and build, you can just be my pretty little assistant.”

“Fine,” I say, clearing my throat and attempting to clear my mind of the fog those last three words left it in.

Eli gets to work, moving seamlessly through each step, occasionally telling me to hold or pass him something. I’d never say it aloud considering his already boundless ego but  he actually seems to know what he’s doing. While he does all the hard stuff, I focus on separating the screws into two piles based on size, trying to play the role of a functioning adult.

“Come hold this still for me,” he directs, nodding toward the wooden post in his hands. Standing, I hold it exactly as he had it, careful not to move it even an inch out of place. Crouching down to tighten a screw in place at the juncture of the actual frame and post, his arm brushes against the skin on the inside of my leg, sending warmth up the limb.

I grip the wood tighter, cursing myself internally at my completely unwarranted reaction. Here I am, freshly out of a long term relationship, ready to buckle at the slightest touch from my best friend’s brother like a touch deprived idiot. And because the universe intends on torturing me, we’re forced to repeat that same thing three more times. By the third post I almost think he’s touching me on purpose, but by the fourth one I’m officially convinced. After he’s thoroughly tightened the screw in place Eli runs his hand up to mid thigh, squeezing my skin as he stands, muttering something about bad knees as if he needed me for extra support. He’s in and out of the gym enough that I’d bet my rent money there's nothing wrong with his knees, but I don’t say anything.

Ten minutes later Eli is laying the mattress across the finished bed frame with little help but full mental support from me. I flop down onto the bed dramatically, spreading my limbs like a starfish. “Oh, thank god I won’t have to sleep with my mattress on the floor tonight.”

“God?” Eli asks, stretching his arms over his head and resting his hands on the top of the four poster frame. “I don’t think he was the one who just spent the last forty-five minutes building this.” 

I roll my eyes at the cocky smile on his face. “Thank you Eli. Thank you so much for saving me from the suffering I would have endured without your help.” I crawl across the bed to sit directly in front of where he’s standing, blinking up at him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I am forever grateful for your kindness.”

His gaze rakes over me slowly and I suddenly become extra aware of how imposing he looks standing over me.

“You’re cute when you’re being sarcastic, Sugar.”

“Sugar?” I swallow. “You haven't called me that since I moved in with you guys.”

“Yeah.” He tilts his head slightly, leaning in closer. “And now you’re moving out.”

“All this time and you haven’t come up with something better? Sugar is a bit cliche don’t you think?” I challenge. It takes everything in me to will my voice into casual indifference.

“Oh no, it fits you perfectly. You just don't get it yet.” There's a promise somewhere in his words. Or perhaps it’s in his eyes. 

Eli saves me from having to think up a response when he sits beside me, testing the bounce. “This is nice, real soft.”

“It had better be, this mattress was the price of a car payment.”

He leans back on one hand as the other reaches for one of the posts, giving it a good pull. Testing its stability, I guess. “Bet your bed is good for fucking.”

I whip my head towards him, feeling all the air rush out of my lungs. “What?”

Eli raises a thick eyebrow and shrugs as if he didn’t say something wildly inappropriate with the casualness that comes along with weather commentary. “It’s a simple observation. Don’t go getting all hot and bothered on me,” he says, giving one of my heated cheeks a quick pinch. 

I feel like he’s given me whiplash. From the grip on my thigh earlier and the resurgence of ‘sugar’ and his wild mouth to the damn near brotherly pinch, I’m disoriented. 

I open my mouth to say something but get cut off before I even start when my phone rings. I pick it up from its resting place on the floor and start for the front door before I even swipe my finger against the answer button.

“Open the door please,” Chantel’s voice pleads through the speaker. 

She steps in, arms full of take out bags as I close the door behind her. “Did you and Bob the builder get your bed all squared away?

“Sure did,” Eli pipes up, stepping into the kitchen and dining area.

“Thank goodness. Sorry but I did not want to have to help with that.”

“Is that why it took you an hour to get food from up the street?” I ask, eyeing the restaurant’s familiar logo printed on the bags.

“Maybe.” 

There's no couch, no table, and no chairs but we make it work. Kinda. The three of us settle in with our spread of chinese takeout on the living room floor sitting on a rolled up rug.

“This is tragic,” Chantel says, passing me a napkin. “You’re a grown woman with a science degree, eating on the floor like a broke college student.”

“Well maybe if someone was here to help we would have finished building the bed sooner and had time to build a couple chairs.” I defend. 

“You know, on second thought, this was really innovative of you to have us sit on the rug,” she mutters before stuffing her face with sesame chicken.

I pick up my chopsticks– already half starved– and dig in. To my left Eli is just staring into his carton of lo mein like it’s personally betrayed him and fumbling with his chopsticks.

“Are you good over there?” I ask, covering my mouth to chew around a laugh.

“I don’t know how to use these damn things,” he grumbles.

“Seriously?” Chantel groans, “What have you been doing all our lives?”

“Using forks, obviously.”

Chantel looks through the plastic bags. “They didn’t give us any other utensils.”

“Hold on,” I laugh, standing up to find the box labeled “Kitchen.” After a bit of light rummaging I find it and dig through bubble wrap until I find a fork. I give it a quick rinse and hand it to Eli as I go back to my seat beside him.

“Thank god, I was starving to death.”

“God?” I toss back his question from earlier, grateful for the opportunity to use his own words against him.

He smiles, his white teeth peeking out from behind his lips and says begrudgingly, “Thanks Sugar.”