107. Paper Rings (2/12/21)

The house was unlike anything she had seen before. As Lydia drove up the front walkway, she couldn't help but grimace at the other car in the parking lot. When she had bought the house two weeks ago with plans to flip and resell, she hadn't been expecting to team up with anyone. In fact, she had specifically told her company that she wanted to work alone. And yet, as she climbed out the car, she saw a van decorated with the company's label.

"Excuse me?" Lydia asked, knocking on the driver's side door. "What are you doing here?"

The man inside lowered the window, and she was greeted with a handsome and unfamiliar face. He grinned wickedly before opening the door and hopping out of the van.

"Uh, I'm supposed to start working on this house," the man replied, walking right past her to search for his tools in the back of the truck.

Lydia stood in the driveway, arms crossed against her chest. She almost scoffed before saying, "Um, actually, I'm supposed to be working on this house."

"Are you from the company?" The man asked once he had wrapped the tool belt around his waist. He gestured to the side of the van as if Lydia couldn't read the big bold letters.

"I am," she said, walking past the van to approach her own car. A part of her thought about leaving and handing the job over to this stranger, who apparently worked through the same home renovation company as she did. But then she remembered that she had already been paid a quarter of her salary and couldn't exactly walk away from the job without giving up her paycheck. So she slung off her jacket, threw it in the backseat of her car, and unlocked the front door of the house. Whether or not the handsome man wanted to work with her was his decision.

"Uh, hey!" The man called, jogging to meet her on the front porch. "I'm Henry, by the way."

"Lydia." She stood in the wrecked kitchen, placing her hands on her hips. She hoped the conversation would end there.

"So, are you the interior designer or something?" His words cut like a knife, causing Lydia to physically move away from him as she said, "No, I am not the interior designer. I'm here to flip the house."

Henry blushed until he turned as red as a chili pepper. "I'm sorry, that was stupid of me. Why don't we just get started?"

Lydia adjusted her athleisure outfit before searching for the map of the house, which was sitting on the decrepit kitchen island. According to the figure, the house had three levels: the first level had the kitchen, dining room, living room, and study; the second floor had the bedrooms and bathrooms; and the third floor was an attic. At the back of the house was a patio, fire pit, and pool.

At the front door, Henry carried in construction materials, helmets, safety goggles, and gloves. He tossed a pair to Lydia, who accepted the gift after tying her hair up in a ponytail. The two decided to get started on the upstairs bedrooms, since they would be able to throw the old furniture out the large windows at the top of the steps.

Dusty dressers, bed frames, and bathroom vanities fell into the large trash bin resting on the driveway. Lydia grunted before throwing the first of many toilets out the window; the white tile smashed as soon as it landed in the trash.

Once the bedrooms were empty, Lydia helped Henry carry cans of paint from the van to the second floor. They decided to paint the one room blue.

"You know, blue is my favorite color," Henry said as he soaked his brush in more paint. He had been trying all morning to spark up conversation, and now that it was the afternoon, Lydia was starting to budge.

"I don't usually like blue, but this shade is alright, I guess." She loaded her paintbrush with the light blue paint and splattered it onto the wall. When she looked over her shoulder, she realized a bit of the paint had hit Henry square in the chest.

Lydia couldn't help but chuckle and say, "I'm so sorry!"

Henry feigned anger, throwing his paintbrush down and yelling, "You'll pay for that!"

He chased her down the front steps and out of the house until they were inches away from the pool. Lydia stopped a moment to catch her breath, a fit of giggles overcoming her. Henry stood a few feet behind her.

"Don't you dare push me in!" She squealed, a laugh getting caught in her throat.

Instead, Henry ran and jumped into the pool, splashing water everywhere. He resurfaced, his brown curls dripping wet. Lydia chuckled, and her sides hurt from all the laughing.

"Aren't you gonna join me?" He asked, treading water to stay afloat.

Lydia glanced down at her leggings and t-shirt before deciding to jump into the pool, just like Henry had done a few moments ago. The blue water surrounded her, and she felt her eyes burn from the chlorine. When she lifted her head above water, she noticed Henry standing in front of her.

Everything had fallen into place. Their argument from the morning disappeared into thin air. All that was left now was a blue bedroom, their bodies dripping in pool water, and the sun filtering through the clouds.

It would be wrong if they hadn't kissed.

Lydia and Henry spent the next six weeks renovating the house until it was ready to be sold again. By the time showings started, their boss from the company apologized for the mix-up, explaining that it was never their intention for the two to work together. Lydia and Henry had just shrugged, accepting what fate had handed them.

After the project, they hadn't seen much of each other, but like a cat to a mouse, they found their way back. Lydia met Henry's friends, who liked to smoke pot, and stalked him on the internet during their time apart. The first time they spent the night together, Lydia couldn't help but watch Henry breathe, wondering how she had gotten herself into this relationship in the first place.

They gave each other book recommendations and stolen kisses. Henry, in a moment of vulnerability, expressed to Lydia that he came from a poor family and wouldn't be able to financially support her without a job. She didn't care how much money he had; all she cared about was how they spent their time together, and the fact that they were together in the first place.