Free My Holiday House Guest by Carolyn Gibbs Page B

said.  “I’m planning on becoming a
child psychologist.”
    “That sounds
great.  What made you choose that field?”
    “I’ve always
been fascinated by how the mind works, why people do what they do, and what
makes them tick.  I also come from a big family and love working with kids. 
And how about you? What do you do?”
    “Oh, I work in a
store, nothing exciting.  In fact baking is more fun than what I do.  I’d much
rather hear about your plans and what your life. How do you like running the
dorm?  Now that must be some job.” I said, attempting to get the focus
off of me and my measly job in retail sales. I didn’t like it, but it paid the
bills.
    “Oh it’s a hand
full.  There’s always something going on.  It’s a miracle I have time to
study.  But my resident assistants are awesome and can handle most of the daily
crisis without me constantly getting involved.  So it’s a really cool job.  I
couldn’t ask for a better dorm or staff.”
    We continued
talking and joking while I stopped preparing the Thanksgiving feast to whip up
a little something for our dinner. The three of us ate together, and then Evan
went out to visit some of his friends.
    While I started
to clean up, Douglas said, “I also do a little writing in my spare time. I
write freelance articles for travel and music magazines.  Oh, I have a great
idea.”  He got up from the table and went back to his room and returned with a
folder and opened it.
    “When you get a
chance, I’d like your opinion on an article I’m writing for a new travel
magazine I’m targeting. It’s about bus tours through New England.”
    “Sure,” I said.
“I’ll take a look at it.” I was taken back a bit and wasn’t expecting that. I
took the article and put it back in the folder. “I’ll put it in my room and
read it later,” I promised, gathering the pages. “I don’t want it to get messed
up out here.”
    While I walked
quickly out the room with the folder in my hands, I yelled back, “Make yourself
at home.  Feel free to turn on the television or stereo while I clean the
kitchen.” 
    When I returned
to the kitchen he was standing there next to the sink. “I’d rather help you, if
you don’t mind,” he said.
    “You don’t have
to.  You’ve done so much already today.”
    “Ravon, it’s a
pleasure to help.”
    “Thanks, I
appreciate it. You can dry,” I said handing him a dishtowel.
    I turned around
to face the sink and was shocked when I felt the unmistakable sting of a towel
hit my behind. I whisked around on my heels. Douglas laughed.
    “I can’t believe
you just did that,” I said, patting my stinging rear end.
    “I’m sorry.” He
laughed. “I couldn’t resist it.”
    I quickly
grabbed a towel from the wall rack and twirled it in front of me.  “Well, you
do know what this means?” I said as I moved around the room facing him. “I have
to defend myself against all attacks.”
    I snapped the
towel, playfully hitting the air on his right side. “You moved; that’s not
fair.”
    “It’s fair,” he
protested and jumped to my left while striking my rear again. “Bull’s-eye! We
make up the rules as we go.”
    “Bull’s-eye?” I
shirked. “Oh, you’re going to get it now.” I held both corners of my towel and
spun it, then released the back end flinging the tip. Just before my towel
reached its point of contact, my target jumped out of the way and snapped his
towel on my leg. We continued our dishtowel battle for a few more rounds, and I
finally landed some good hits.
    Then out of the
blue Douglas faced me and stepped forward. He lifted his arms up and dropped
his towel around my back and pulled me closer. “What do you say, let’s call a
truce?”
    “Okay, that was fun,”
I said, feeling his breath on my skin and the warmth of his body heat.
    “Yes, it was.”
He leaned down and softly brushed my cheek with his lips moving towards my
lips.
    I longed to kiss
him right there, but knew that I