Drowning in Blue - Chapter Four
He wants his scotch back.
He goes to her apartment. It is late, almost two, but the lights are on. He can almost see through her thin curtains from the street. It's as if she anticipated his arrival. He parks his bike and limps towards the door.
On the floor in front of her door is his scotch glass, empty but for a few drops of rain and framed by a line of burgundy lipstick. He picks it up and turns it in his fingers.
He could leave now. He has what he came for.
He knocks.
She answers.
For a moment, all they do is stare at the other, each unwilling to be the first to look away.
"What do you want?" She says finally.
He holds up the scotch glass, flips it, and slips it into his pocket. "Came for my glass."
She watches him, the faintest glimmer of distress crossing her face.
"Is that all?"
Blue eyes seem to flash, but he dips his head and she can no longer see into his soul.
"What did you expect?" he says, resigned. He stares at his frayed shoelaces.
She bites her lip, but doesn't answer.
"I can't give you what you need."
"You can give me what I want," she counters.
"What, sex? Companionship at the most. You deserve more." His shoelaces don't appreciate his bitter stare.
"House..." Her voice, soft, prompts him to lift his head, to meet her eyes. Despite her attire and the smoldering appearance, she is soft, fragile.
He fears she will break if he touches her.
"House, you want me. You know I want you. You're complicating this," she said, lightly touching his arm.
"I like complicated. Chicks dig it. Brooding stranger wins over pretty boy doctor with fantastic hair any day."
She smiles.
"Then I'll complicate it for you. You like puzzles, don't you?"
He narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side, studying her face.
"Find out three things about me that I've never told anyone else. I don't care how you do it. All's fair."
"You want me to dig three secrets out of you?" he says, surprised.
"You can do it any way you want." Her suggestive look is not lost on him.
He considers it a moment and then extends his hand. "It's a deal."
They clasp hands a bit longer than necessary.
When he has returned home, he pulls the scotch glass out of his pocket. It is warm from resting against his thigh, but the thin line of lipstick remains.
He sets it on top of his piano and begins to play.
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