Best Thing In Town

"What do you do in your spare time? Y'know, hobbies, or whatever." He looked down at the coffee table from where he was seated on the floor. Why he was sitting on the floor, I don't know. I didn't bother to ask.

Absent mindedly tracing my finger across his sofa, I stopped and met his eyes for a split second. We both tore away from the gaze. "I read, take pictures, make smoothies. Oh, and I play tennis sometimes." I decided to take a peak at him and he seemed intrigued.

"Smoothies?"

"Yeah, smoothies."

"Come here." The words came out of his mouth so quickly, I wasn't quite sure if he had actually said them. Before I knew it, my wrist was being grabbed in his abnormally cold hands and he was dragging me toward his kitchen. "You're gonna make me a smoothie."

"Oh? I am?" I said, acting as if what he had just said to me was a surprise. In all honesty, I was not opposed to making smoothies at all. I really enjoyed it.

"Yeah, you are." He cocked his hip and tried to seem tough. I say "seem" because he looked rather damn adorable. But, then again, I kept forgetting that I couldn't like him. I already dug myself into a hole by just being his friend.

Following suit of his hips, I cocked my eyebrow. "Oh, I don't know about that. I mean, your manners. I guess they just don't exist, do they?" I leaned casually against the marble counter top and smirked at him. Only a little smirk, nothing too outrageous.

Then, he changed the direction of the conversation. "Logan," he spoke and suddenly his eyes became emerald gems and his bottom lip became a pouty frown. "I'm sorry. I was terribly rude. Will you please give me the pleasure of enjoying your..." He trailed off and looked me square in the eye before continuing. An unwelcomed lump formed in my throat. "Smoothies."

As he stood there, in the middle of his kitchen, speaking so quietly to me, pouting like a little kid, and tugging on the belt loop of his pants, I realized that maybe he wasn't such a bad guy. Maybe he wasn't as distraught and fucked up as I believed him to be. Or maybe I just haven't spent enough time with him.

"Okay." My voice broke. "Okay," I said a little more clearly. "I'll make you a smoothie. The ingredients, my assistant?"

He smiled and rushed toward the fridge. "I like strawberry. What's your favorite to make?" He spoke casually as he bustled around the average sized kitchen, opening drawers and closing them repeatedly.

"Actually, strawberry. It's kind of my favorite." I re tracked his steps and looked in the fridge, taking out the things I needed that he must have forgotten.

Our backs were turned to each other as we searched and talked. It was easier this way. To not have to look at his perfectly scruffy face when I spoke. "Right on." He responded and I heard him slam a cupboard. I turned around and gave him a questioning look, to which he just responded with an innocent smile, "accident."

After a few minutes, we retrieved all the things necessary for perfect smoothies and we were both perched on top of the counter top with the blender between us. "Ready?" Billie asked me.

"Ready." I affirmed as I watched him plug in the blender.

We both took turns pouring the cut up strawberries and yogurt into the blender, laughing quietly as we did so, even though there was nothing necessarily funny about what we were doing. I guess I was just laughing because I was happy to be around him. I don't know why he was laughing.

The smoothies turned out to be my best, and I was quite satisfied as I sipped through bendy straws that Billie had found in one of the many drawers.

"This...is...so..." Billie spoke between gulps of the smoothie, "damn good." He then took a break from the "damn good" smoothie and looked up at me through his eyelashes, just like he had when I first met him when he was drunk. "Thanks a lot, Logan." A smile stretched across his slightly pink lips and then he dropped his eyes down to the tile on the floor.

My stomach felt funny after that. "You're welcome, Billie." Not the bad funny either.