The Belle and the Beard Kate Canterbary (reading comprehension books .txt) 📖

She plucked the bandana from me and pressed it to her face. "Oh my god. Linden, seriously, I can't right now."

"I'm not—"

"Can we do this tomorrow? Please?"

I shook my head. "I'm trying to tell you—"

"I can't fight with you tonight and I can't just sit here and take it while you yell at me either."

I sank down beside her. "Would you shut up for a minute?" She sniffled. "I brought beer."

She dropped the bandana, just enough to eye the quartet of tall cans. Her brows lifted before she resumed mopping her face. A time that bordered on painfully long passed with only the sounds of early night mingled with her sniffles and shuddered breaths between us. It was a warm evening for this point in September, the breeze mild and dry. Hoots and calls echoed from the forest.

Then, "I have wine." Jasper held up an unopened bottle. "I don't need your beer."

"When did I say I was sharing any with you? I just said I brought it."

This pulled a splashy, hiccupping laugh from Jasper. "I can live with that. If you'd brought a cheese plate and refused to share, things might be different."

"That's your end zone? A cheese plate?"

"Oh, yeah. I'd fight you for that." She patted the porch floor, its paint nothing more than a faded suggestion of color now. "No one sits on my ramshackle porch without sharing their cheese with me."

I cast a glance over the structure, its wood planks rotted in some spots, warped and jutting up from the surface at others. "Goddamn, this place is one problem child after another."

Her shoulders shook as she pressed the cloth to her eyes again but her sobs seemed to mingle with laughter this time. "It's like you're physically incapable of keeping these observations to yourself, Linden." She glanced over at me. "Like, for once, do you think you could not call out my shit? Just once?"

"I didn't mean—"

"I know what you meant. You came over here after being in your clean, sturdy house with its fancy hot water and reliable electricity, and you can't not stare at the deck that's five minutes from collapsing under us."

I freed one of the beers from its ring and popped it open. "Sorry about that. And what I said earlier too."

Jasper dropped the cloth to her lap and shifted to face me. "Is that why you came over? Because you thought I was—I was upset about this afternoon?"

I jerked my shoulders up in agreement as I sipped.

"I wasn't crying because of anything you said." She reached back, grabbed the wine bottle by the neck. "I was crying because I don't have a corkscrew."

That didn't make sense. Not even a little bit of sense. No one became this upset over inaccessible wine.

I set my beer down and pushed off the porch to reach into my back pocket. "I can take care of that for you."

"Why am I not surprised to hear this?"

I pried open my Swiss Army knife and beckoned for the bottle. "You could've come next door and asked to borrow a corkscrew."

With the cork freed, Jasper held out her empty glass. "The last time I went over there, you insulted my baking."

"Your baking insulted me," I replied, filling her glass.

"See? This is why I didn't ask you. I didn't need another round of unwelcome commentary."

I returned to my spot on the porch floor while Jasper tucked into her wine. "You would've changed your mind about that if I had a cheese plate."

"Do you?"

I mentally paged through the contents of my refrigerator. There wasn't much. "No."

"Don't tease a girl like that. Can't you see I'm up to my ears in issues, Linden? Don't dangle cheese in front of me unless you have the goods."

She wasted no time putting that wine away and soon held out her glass for a refill. "There's this little market around the corner from my apartment. They sell cheese plates for one. Just a little assortment of cheeses, some apple slices and fig jam, a bit of bread and nuts. Whenever I was in town and had the night off, I'd pick up one of those. Even knowing exactly what was in it, I don't think I could perfectly recreate it. I don't know why. It just wouldn't come out the same."

"Really is your end zone," I murmured.

She replied with a quick shrug. "You don't have to stay. You've uncorked my wine and saved me from attempting to saber it with the axe I found in the garage—"

"Jesus Christ, Jasper."

"—which is an adequate apology for your little rant today."

"Please don't use that axe for—for anything. Okay?"

"I do not need your permission." She turned her gaze toward me now, her brows lifted and her eyes softer than I'd ever seen them before. Probably the wine at work. That was it. Nothing else. "This thing really is five minutes from falling apart, isn't it?"

I glanced around the weathered structure. "Yeah."

"It took me most of the week just to fix up the side steps, and since we're on the topic, why does a small house need so many entry points? The side door, the back door, the front door. It's bananas. Just one door, in and out, that's all I need." She frowned at the floor. "It would take all month to tackle this thing. My god." Her frown deepened. "I guess I have the time. There's gotta be a YouTube tutorial for it."

"Is that what you were hammering? Those little stairs on the other side?"

She nodded slowly. "Mmhmm. Since I was replacing the broken glass in the door, it seemed like the next logical task."

"How'd it go?"

"I only did it wrong three times. I think that's probably good." She cut a look in my direction. "You were listening to my banging?"

Two things were true right now. One, Jasper was a mess. A hot mess but a mess nonetheless. I'd lived a lot of low days, and I knew breakdowns like the one I walked into weren't the