Avery's Apartment
Avery decided that if he was going to have Francess visit his apartment, he would need to prepare food that was fit for human consumption. And the one dish he was certain he could make was pasta; namely, spaghetti with meatballs. It was a simple matter of boiling the pasta and heating up the sauce, and the meatball process was relatively uncomplicated. It was actually quite fun using the gleaming kitchen for the first time, even if sauce spots got on the counter and the white stove top. He'd worry about that later.

He had also stocked the fridge with soda and juice, intending to have a wide variety on hand. The vampire thought about attempting to procure wine, but that might have seemed a little odd. Besides, he had a hard time with that; shopkeepers rarely believed that he was over the age of twenty-one.

The dumb part about going to see Avery in his shiny new apartment was how nervous she was. It didn't make any sense. Francess had been spending time with Avery for months; Heck, he'd seen her parents' house and her apartment, so it shouldn't have been a stomach-chewing-itself experience to stand on his doorstep. What was it? Paranoia? An insane fear of spotting an atrocious element of home decor, like a bearskin rug or a Sports Illustrated swimsuit poster? Terror over putting too much toilet paper in the bowl and clogging it? Lord, she prayed she didn't have to pee while she was there.

Francess finger-combed her hair and cleared her throat. Lifting a hesitant fist, she rapped on the door. There was a brown paper bag in the crook of her left arm. She shifted it against her hip while waiting for Avery to get to the door.

At the sound of the knock, Avery wiped his hands on a paper towel and went to the door, adjusting his blue t-shirt as he walked. He opened the door after peeking through the peephole, smiling when he spotted Francess. "Hi," the vampire said cheerfully, noting the bag. "What's that?" He stepped aside so the brunette could enter the apartment. "If you're hungry, I made dinner. I mean it wasn't a big deal or anything, so if you're not hungry, that's okay too."

"Hi! These are housewarming gifts." Fran lifted a foot and was about to hurry across the threshold, in case she freaked out and took off running, but she froze mid-step. "Wait, do you have to invite me in, or is it just the other way around?" It was probably a monumentally stupid question, but in doing reading about vampires over the past few months, that particular detail never got un-muddied. Getting zapped or force-fielded out on her first visit would be pretty embarrassing. She stuck the grocery bag in Avery's hands and waited. It was interesting to note that the bag didn't zap. Of that, she was relieved. It contained a wooden box she had decoupaged in movie tickets from her favorite shows, a box of Count Chocula cereal, and a set of bowls and plates made from recycled LP records.

Avery couldn't help but chuckle slightly. "That only applies to me. You can just walk right in." He took the bag curiously, and that reminded him..."I have your sweatshirt, it's hung up in my room. I wore it." Well, she knew that part. As the vampire rifled through the contents, his smile grew. "Thank you, this is great. Especially the cereal, nice touch." He waited until Francess had crossed the threshold before closing the door, and he set the bag down on a side table.

"I can take your coat. I may have gone overboard with the heat, I didn't want you to be cold or anything."

"No, it's okay," she said once she came inside, unzipping her coat and looking around. Truthfully, it was kind of warm in there, but she attributed 50% of that to blushing while he opened her gift. Francess handed him her puffy coat and fiddled with her sleeves. "I didn't know you could cook, though," she said, revisiting his offer. "It smells like Italian in here. The food, not the nationality." She wondered if he put garlic in it, and if it irritated his vampire sensibilities. "I'm a little hungry but not emergency hungry." Because she didn't know what to do with herself, she stood like a stick in the center of the living room. So far, she didn't see anything to panic about.

He put her coat on a hanger in the hallway closet next to his own. Avery hoped she wouldn't notice how he needed things to be in a certain place, and if she did, that she wouldn't be bothered by it. Gesturing to the sofa, he told her, "You can sit. I don't have a t.v., but my laptop plays DVDs and I bought a few recently." It still amazed him to see his old favorites (a lot of them in black and white) compressed on to shiny discs.

"I'm just gonna check on the food." The vampire crossed the room into the kitchen, stirring the sauce and turning off the oven. "My mom and I used to have this tradition of watching It's a Wonderful Life during Christmastime," he called from the next room. "So I bought that, too."

"I like that one," she said, easing onto the center couch cushion. Once there, Fran fiddled with her rubber bracelets and tried her best to relax. She never quite understood how people sacked out on therapist couches. It seemed really oddball to lay down in a doctor's office, especially if they weren't technically examining you. In the houses of neighbors or family friends, she didn't know how comfortable was too comfortable, and so always erred on the side of rigid. "My favorite scene's the one where the dance floor opens up and they go swimming. Or the one where she has to hide in a bush. I can't decide."

She looked at her shoes and wondered if she should've taken them off at the door. Most of the snow had melted, so she hadn't tracked anything in, but some people were funny about dirt. A light bulb switched on over Francess' head. Suddenly she got why she was so nervous; all the fixation on Avery owning strange things was just a camouflage for the worry she'd do something offensive in his place. Francess stuck her fingers under her thighs and clung to them. "Your apartment looks nice!"

Avery came back into the living room, grinning. "I couldn't pick a favorite scene, but Potter is a great villain." That might have been an odd thing to say, since people tended to focus on the warm, fuzzy parts of the film. To him, the protagonist was only as good as the antagonist. "I made spaghetti and meatballs. It's one of the few meals I do well." He sat next to her on the couch, his hands gripping the edge of the cushions. He glanced around the room, trying to see it from her eyes. It was very blue.

"Thanks. It's just nice to have some place to really call home."

"Plus, now you can do things that require a permanent address," she said, instantly thinking 'laaame' in her head. "Like subscribe to catalogs. Or throw keggers." Francess crossed her ankles. "My dad has a subscription to Field and Stream. Also, Playboy, but I'm not supposed to know about that. He keeps them in a big basket beside his recliner, underneath all the nature ones. I discovered them once when I wanted to cut out pictures for a collage."

Since she was perched on the outermost portion of the cushion, Francess realized he was probably staring at the back of her head. She scooted into better position. "The paint looks cool. I did my bedroom in giant polka dots, but I already have designer's remorse."

"I don't think I would throw keggers. Or subscribe to...Playboy." Avery fidgeted slightly in his seat. "I did get a library card. I live on the edge." When she moved into his field of vision, she caught his gaze and he forgot the next thing he had been about to say. "Did you want...food?" He brushed an invisible bit of lint off the knee of his pants, his favorite pair of brown cords. "Or I could show you the rest of my apartment. My bedroom's nice, too."

He froze, not quite believing he had just uttered that statement.

Francess didn't even catch the relevance until she saw Avery's paralysis. Then she widened her eyes and reddened for him, and decided to cut him some slack. She squeezed his knee in solidarity and said, "Because of the view or surprisingly abundant closet space?" She stood up and waited for him to lead the way. "I'll have a tour followed by spaghetti, if you please." Because he'd been expecting her, the vampire probably wouldn't need to dash ahead and pick up underwear off the floor, as Fran had done when he stopped by to help her pack. Once he left that night, she discovered a pair of 'Monday' panties peeking out from under the bed, and spent the next three days fretting over whether or not he noticed.

And whether it was juvenile or cute that she had days-of-the-week clothing that came in a tube.

Avery stood after her, and led her to the bedroom that was right off the hall opposite the kitchen. He kept most of his books in the room, and they spilled from insufficient shelf space. The city libraries often had book sales, selling dog-eared copies for a quarter a piece and he couldn't help but rescue a half dozen or so whenever he saw them. "So, this is it." His closet doors were open, and his clothes were hung neatly inside. The drapes were pulled securely over the single window that looked into the room.

"It's nothing spectacular, I know." The vampire gestured to his computer that sat on a battered desk. "I bought that recently. It's still kind of confusing to use," he remarked inanely. Avery glanced back at her to gauge her reaction.

"It's great!" While Avery thought it was nothing spectacular, Francess zeroed in on the shelving and thought, 'Oooh books!' Sitting on his sofa was tricky, but bee-lining to the used collection was easily accomplished. "Wow." She picked up a hardback copy that still had its paper-and-clear-foil cover and put it to her ear like a conch shell. "When I was little and Mom took me to the library, I used to sit on the floor and just open the books. They make this neat sound, like k-hhhh-rt." She pulled back the cover and listened to the spine widen. "And then puuuufffff when you close it." In the back of the book, there was an old pouch for a check-out card. "I was so mad when they went to electronic scanning and you couldn't spy on who read the book before you anymore."

Francess tucked a foot behind her ankle and looked around. The air in the room kind-of smelled like his shampoo or soap or something; she wasn't sure what the scent was. Maybe clean laundry. Either way she liked it. Each day that she kept his sweatshirt, she sniffed it, growing sad as the Avery Smell faded. "You make your bed." The only exposure she had to men's beds was her dad's and her brother's, and neither of them were keen on making them.

"Yeah," he said, smiling and patting the comforter. "And I keep the bed pointed toward the closet because I read this thing about how...if you keep the bed pointed toward it, all your good energy bounces back to you. But if you point it toward the door, it all flows out and you're always tired and stuff." Avery shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "I'm not sure if I really believe that, but it doesn't hurt to be on the safe side, you know?"

He sidled up to Francess, pointing at the book she was holding. "That's a first edition. I was really glad when I found it." He ran his finger over the spine; it was Watership Down.

"There's a character in it, well he's a rabbit, but I kind of relate to him. The other rabbits don't listen to him because they think he's just nervous and a coward, but he always ends up being right. Not that I think I'm always right, but...I understand how he feels."

She hissed apologetically. "Ooh, I shouldn't have opened it so wide." Her fingers were noticeably more careful with it now, understanding that it had sentimental and possible retail value. There were a couple of childhood books in her possession that she was extra careful with. Oddly, Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret made the list. Not that she'd openly admit to that, even under the duress of a flaming hot poker. Ramona Forever was a slightly more acceptable member of the Top Ten. "What's a watership?" She turned her face to look at Avery. "Is it different than a regular ship?" Why there were rabbits on ships, she wasn't sure either, but decided not to ask.

He gave her a reassuring smile. "It's okay, it's just a book. One thing I've learned is that most material possessions can be replaced." Avery sat down on the floor, crossing his legs Indian-style as he glanced over the bottom shelf of his collection. "Watership Down is the place the rabbits are traveling to, it's like their safe haven. They had to escape their old warren because it was going to be destroyed by humans." He patted the spot of carpet next to him. "We can sit here awhile if you want."

Avery was like a child showing off his baseball card collection. He had several volumes of the O.Henry short story collections, for instance. His books were sorted by how much he enjoyed them, rather than alphabetically. "What are your favorite books?"

The carpet was a safe place to sit; she definitely couldn't sit on it wrong. Francess went to her knees and then rested on one hip. "Umm..." She rubbed her lips together and pondered it. "Well I have sub-categories," she said, "For classic literature, probably My Antonia or The Good Earth. I read that one for a book report. Except there was this line in it that stuck out to me, because I thought it was kinda screwy. It was about how women come in two kinds: Exceptionally pretty in the face with plain bodies, or exceptionally hot in the body with butterfaces. It didn't actually say butterfaces, but you got where the author was going with it. After that I got temporarily obsessed with trying to lump women I knew into the categories."

She pushed her hair behind her shoulder. "I like Brave New World a lot, too," she said. While Francess was growing up, her older sister would often try and steer her towards hipper reading materials. Upon protesting that she really liked older books, Beatrice promised a compromise and loaned her a Judy Blume book from the 1970s called Forever. She would never forget the mortification of reading a few chapters and realizing it was about having sex. Somehow, reading the same pages her sister had once read about a racy topic was disturbing. Especially since certain pages were dog-eared.

"Those are good!" Avery automatically reached out and brushed back the few strands she had missed. "I like 1984 and the Martian Chronicles, especially the latter one. Some of the stories in it are really sweet and touching." He sat up straighter, clearing his throat. "I just wanted you to know, I really like you." He knew it was an extreme shift in conversational topic, and he felt compelled to clarify. "I just worried that I didn't show it enough. I mean, I see couples in public and the way they act and I wonder...is that how I'm supposed to act? Always with...my hands all over you?"

The vampire leaned back, looking worried. "Not that it's a bad proposition or anything, it just doesn't seem polite. And I've never, you know..." He gestured vaguely in the air. "I guess what I mean is, am I too...stand-offish?"

Francess had been nodding her agreement to 1984 when the vampire suddenly careened off-topic. On her internal soundtrack, it was one of those record-scratch moments, which probably showed on her face. "I don't know," she said honestly. "I've never had a--" Boyfriend? Was that the proper term? Or should it be a less-formalized term, like... frequent date partner? Perhaps that was the crux of the issue. They were two less-than-experienced people trying to forge a 'something' without knowing how either was supposed to act.

"Situation like this," she finished, moistening her lips. "I mean, sometimes I wonder if you..." The skin on her face felt hot enough to blister. But now that she was in hot water, she might as well swim in it. "If you're attracted to me. If I'm the kind of girl that people are attracted to. Not that I'm ugly, exactly, I just... I'm not sexy. I'm sexual, at least I think I am, I mean I think about it. And I don't mean just sex, I mean the whole package, like making out and PDAs. But I don't know how to segue into any of it. I'd worry I looked ridiculous."

The heat in the apartment was beginning to feel like a sauna. Fran's fingernails were buried in the thick carpeting. "I like you a lot, too, and if this is how we are, and it's a happy thing, then it's okay. I don't need that stuff to have a good time. But if you wanted to be physically affectionate, I wouldn't scream or anything."

Now she wished she'd glanced at her watch prior to talking, so she'd know how long she just rambled.

Avery wiped his hands on his knees, even though he wasn't sweaty. "I know what you mean. This is good, I like this." He gestured to the floor. "I just...I am attracted to you." He forced himself to say the next word aloud. "Sexually. But that isn't all of it. I like the way you seem to understand me, and the way you see things. I just like...all of you." He rubbed a hand over the back of his head. "So, I could get that pasta now."

He didn't mean to change the subject, and he wasn't as uncomfortable as he thought he would be. He just didn't want her to think he was pressing the issue.

"I'm all for spaghetti," she enthused, and marveled at how nice it was to breathe again. Fran got to her feet and replaced Watership Down on the bookshelf, in his favorited section. As she gave the book spine a nudge, Fran's brain took a detour into different territory, and she found herself thinking about the book she bought on etheric projection. Maybe now that she knew Avery better, she'd broach the subject. It was a comfort to know that after the sex-talk, a topic like out-of-body experiences wouldn't seem nearly as taboo. "So... did I ever tell you about how I accidentally leave my body during sleep?" she asked, averting her eyes as she charged down the hall.

As she talked, Avery had already reached the kitchen cabinets, and he was mid-way pulling out two plates when she made that declaration. He paused, hand in mid-air. "Metaphorically, or...?" He may have been acting dense, but he wasn't sure what to make of that. Setting the plates down on the counter, he grabbed a sieve and ladle, portioning out the spaghetti. "What is it like? I mean...what happens?"

He didn't know if it was something to be sympathetic about, or impressed by...it didn't change his opinion about her, but he wondered if the puzzled feeling inside of him was anything like she had felt when she discovered his own secret.

Francess stayed behind him, watching his shoulderblades move as he served food. She put her thumbs in the loops on her waistband. Was this going to make any sense? As far back as Fran could remember, she hadn't told anybody she could do it, other than Nathan, who saw it for himself first. At least having that conversation under her belt made it easier. "Like... I know you don't have a TV, but did you ever see those commercials about cold medicine, and how it gives you medicine-head? There'd be these cartoon people, and all the sudden their heads would detach and float away like balloons on a string."

She shifted against the refrigerator. "It's similar, except I'm not headless. There's even a cord. Up until that vampire attacked me, I thought I was invisible to everybody, so I didn't know if I looked like a blob or a... glowing orb, or what. But he said I was girl-shaped. Oh, when I fainted on him, I left my body," she explained. "I dunno how come he could see me, but he didn't bite me because of it, so... whoo hoo?"

Her fingers looped through her bracelets again. "So far I can't control it, it just happens. But I got this book that says I ought to be able to direct where I'm going, and even travel in a meditative state. Only it hasn't happened for almost two months, so I didn't get to try it, and every time I try to meditate, I get a song stuck in my head."

Avery added a meatball to each plate, scooping sauce over the pasta and showing Francess the plate so she could approve the amount. "Is it scary? It sounds like it would be scary." He frowned at the mention of the vampire who had attacked her, but tried not to dwell on that. He produced two glasses from a different cabinet, and gestured to where she stood against the fridge. "I have various juices and soda, so you can pick whatever you want to drink."

He looked down at the food contemplatively. "Well, your brain tends to do the opposite of what you tell it, so maybe if you think to yourself, 'Okay, I'm going to try to think of as many songs as I can,' your mind will go blank and you'll be able to meditate."

"Maybe," she said, sounding skeptical. 'Focus' and Francess didn't get along too well. The other thing she didn't comprehend was how to clear her mind to meditate, and then remember she was supposed to be projecting. If her mind was so clear, she wouldn't really be thinking about the exercise, would she? Probably she was overthinking it. She retrieved a juice bottle from the fridge and poured herself a glass. At Avery's, she hesitated. "What can you taste?" The orange juice looked delicious to her, but maybe he would rather have some tomato juice or fruit punch. Those were red, at least.

"Taste is kind of muted. Like when you have a really bad cold. But orange juice is alright." Prior to Francess' arrival, he had already set out cutlery and napkins, and he carried both plates to the small table that was pushed against the kitchen wall to save space. As a result, there was only room for two to eat, but Avery figured that was a fair-trade off for the low price he paid for a relatively roomy one bedroom apartment. The vampire pulled a chair out for the brunette and took the seat across from her.

"When I was younger, I had trouble concentrating," Avery confided. "Even now, sometimes. I love to read, but it takes me awhile to finish a book because my mind latches on to something else without me meaning to. Like I'll read something and it'll set something off in my head, and I have to get up and pace to kind of...get everything in order." He shrugged and poised his fork over his food.

"It actually helped me in debate, though. You have to think ahead to what the opposing sides' arguments are going to be, you have to anticipate them. I'm good at that."

Francess spread the napkin in her lap. "Like with chess." She picked up her fork and twirled it in the noodles and sauce. Before she took a bite, she remembered a detail from her nightmare trip to the mall. "Were you the debate team captain by any chance? In real life, I mean. As opposed to... wacky adventures at the Water Park Mall?" The spaghetti was surprisingly good-- only surprisingly because it was more difficult to cook for other people when your taste buds were out of sync with the rest of the world. She wiped her mouth and gave it the thumbs up while she chewed.

"I wasn't the captain, when I was really in school." Avery admitted. "I always shied away from having to lead. The backseat was fine with me." He smiled at her approval of the food before taking a bite of his own. He wiped his mouth on a napkin and took a sip of juice. "I guess I wasn't strong enough to handle the potential disappointment. When you're a leader, your success is everyone's, but all the failures are yours alone. It scared me, a little."

The vampire glanced back up at her. "With the whole mall...debacle? I felt important, superior even. Even though people like Connor made fun of me, I felt certain I was...destined for greatness." He looked away shyly. "I feel like I've been cheated out of something for the second time, even though I know it wasn't real. For a moment there, I had the life I was supposed to have...back."

"Avery!" She rested her fork and looked crestfallen. "I didn't even think of that... that you were alive for a day. I'm sorry. I just remembered you were the boy with the flash cards. I saw you in the hall." Talk about feeling ridiculous. Francess had been embarrassed over the incident, as well as mildly depressed. It brought back less than pleasant memories of high school, sure, but there had been another thing. She remembered feeling passionate about something, that something being school theater. In her own high school days, she didn't have the guts to try any kind of performance that wasn't shrouded in anonymity. When she 'woke up' from the mall experience, she briefly grieved that sensation of being on fire for something. But that was less than 1% of the loss Avery must've experienced.

"While it was happening, you didn't remember being a vampire, so you couldn't savor being human while you had it." She chewed her lip, immediately regretting she'd gotten so maudlin. Avery most definitely didn't need Fran pointing out the magnitude of the suckiness, but she wanted him to know she understood. "Are you okay?"

Avery studied his meatball as if it would hold some answer to her question. "I think...I think I am. For a vampire, I have a pretty good life, right?" He tilted his head slightly. "I guess it's the relativity of it all. Others would consider this boring, the job and apartment and the 'everyday ordinary' of it. But I think it's what I want, maybe." The vampire shook his head, wondering if he was being coherent at all. "Other vampires, their priorities are a bit different. Maybe it was something they lacked in their lives so they feel free and all-powerful once they're changed, but that's not how I felt. I felt gone."

He looked up from his plate. "You noticed me?" The corners of his mouth twitched upward in a smile.

"Well... yeah," she said, doing a half-shrug. The fork twirled against her dish. "You were as cute then as you are now, so why not? Besides, in our fake past, you once picked up my number 2 pencil when my book bag dumped out in the hallway. It touched me." Francess smiled at the ridiculous statement, made all the more ridiculous by how true something like that would've been in school. Even the slightest acknowledgment by boys sent teenage girls into weeks of interpretation and analysis.

"I got to thinking about college. Maybe I could take a class. Just to see, you know?" She ate some of her spaghetti and sipped her orange juice.

"And to think, now a number 2 pencil could kill me." Avery set down his glass. "Sorry, bad joke." He stretched out his leg, and in so doing brushed her foot with his own. "You should. I mean, not like it's required, but I think you'd like it. There's nothing wrong with learning things for your own sake. And you'd have the benefit of not being all stressed out, thinking that everything you're doing in school could make or break your career prospects."

He shrugged lightly and finished the last of the meatball. "What are your main interests?"

She tipped her chin down. "You don't think the movie theater's my always-career, do you?" She wrinkled her nose. Truly, she wasn't sure if there was a 'career' in her future, but a never-ending string of plain old jobs seemed inspiration-free. Fran nudged his foot back. "I still like books a lot, and playing music. It's not a class but I even thought about... like maybe joining an amateur community theatre, just to see if I'm any good at it in real life. If I'm not, I could help with props or something. It might be fun." She looped her foot behind Avery's so their ankles touched.

"No, I just meant...well, when I went, school wasn't for fun. Or 'personal enrichment', or whatever the phrase is now. It was for really one thing, and that was to get a career that justified paying the tuition. Nowadays, it just seems different. Or else everyone else was raised by entirely different kinds of parents." Avery smiled and scooted closer to the table, their knees brushing against each other's. "I think you'd be good at anything you set your mind to. And I'm not just saying that." He paused, an idea occurring to him.

"Have you ever considered writing? You have an amazing imagination."

"I do?" Francess poked the tines of her fork in her meatball. "I dunno, I keep a journal, but that's all I've tried. I make up a lot of stories in my head, but I can't tell if other people would think they're interesting, or I'm nuts. Because when I'm talking I feel nuts, and often there are accompanying stares," she said matter-of-factly. She ate the meatball and set down her utensil. Roughly one-third of the spaghetti on her plate was left over, but she wasn't hungry enough to finish it all. "Dinner was really good." She smiled and tucked her hands between her knees. "Nobody's ever cooked for me before."

"Really? I think cooking for people is a way of showing nurturance, from a psychological standout." He set down his own fork onto a napkin. "Or so I've read. Usually I don't, I mean...this is the first time I've used my kitchen." Avery pushed his plate away, smiled hopefully at Francess. "We can do it again sometime. What's your favorite food?" He'd make a mental note to prepare that next time.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she said, "You're the first one, other than my parents. Well my mom, anyway. My dad's not a good cook, but that's okay because he's a plumber, and having your hands on people's toilet parts all day doesn't mesh well with food preparation." She made a 'yeck' face. "My favorite's mashed potatoes." Francess noticed how his hair sat against his forehead and thought it was adorable. She reached across and combed her fingers through it. "I like your hair," she said randomly. "How about if I wash up the dishes and you get the dvd going for It's a Wonderful Life?"

Avery grinned, both at her touch and by the suggestion. "Okay, but you can just rinse so the food doesn't stick. They can be finished up properly later." He stood, and began walking toward the living room when he stopped. Turning on his heel, he leaned over and pressed his lips against hers. He pictured himself, oddly, at the local pool when he was a kid. He had been afraid then, but now he knew better, didn't he? So the vampire just closed his eyes and went for it; his tongue darted experimentally over her lower lip as he kissed her, bringing his hand up so his fingers ran through the hair on the back of her head.

After a moment he retreated, feeling elated. "I'll start the movie."

"Hhhhhh..... okay." While Avery leaned back, Francess blinked, noticeably affected by the kiss, and not in a bad way. Her cheeks were flushed and there were goosebumps on her arms. She picked up the plates and carried them to the sink, a shake in her hands making the forks rattle a bit. Once Avery had left the kitchen, she set down the dishes and touched her mouth. It was just a light touch, a thumb grazing her bottom lip in surprise. Somehow that little gesture from him was more exciting than the full-on, open-mouth kiss she'd gotten from her coworker in the movie theater projection booth. Because it was Avery, and Avery was...

"So hot," she breathed. She got a hold of herself and turned on the faucet, getting to the task of rinsing the plates so she could join him for the film.

This winter, life really did seem wonderful to Francess.