17

Octavian realized what he had done, bit his lips hard and soon his hand was over hers on the table. "Hey, I have 28 years of pure experience on my back, I know how you must suffer and am proud you were strong enough to speak for yourself at my house. You were great, Helen."

She wanted to say something, but her lips were sealed. So he continued with the best friendly tone he could offer. "So, if I got things right that night, your ex husband who must be your ex girlfriend is a bitch and not worth your time. Want an advice? Tell her to go find pineapples at the sea."

Helen involuntarily traced a little smile and took the hand from under his to wipe the corner of her eyes.

"Tell me about your funniest friend." Octavian settled on the chair again, comfortably crossing his arms and watching her with half-lidded intensity which could be called lazy. She finished to open her smile, and told him about Cici, her best friend, who had a serious problem involving elevators and bathrooms.

"It is out of a sudden", she said, "we are at the highest building of the entire city of Vancouver, preparing to the elevator, she stops and asks if I can't go by stairs with her. Sometimes I go and sometimes not - it depends on my mood. Also she can't eat a peanut that she runs to the bathroom, most of the times in inconvenient moments but that's okay because I love her with all my heart."

"Why don't you date her then?" He asked.

"Cici?! No, she is my best friend!"

"But I would date my best friend if he was a woman, especially because I think dating is a pain in the ass; women are so annoying to talk to when they are not drunk."

"Excuse me?" Helen chuckled, not so sure if it was best to get mad or laugh at such sincere statement.

"You are different", Octavian shrugged his shoulders, impartially, "I like to talk to you even when we don't have a subject — Hey, Ella, would you bring me an ice cream? Vanilla, please."

The waitress, a small blondie probably attending college, launched a dry look over the table towards Octavian and without a word or smile, disappeared through the adjacent service door. Later that morning Ella would call Helen on a corner and tell (between hip cups) the one-night-story from which she had left heart broken, and Octavian ready for the next one. She advised about his small talks and flirting narratives, and how often other women showed up at Purdy's speaking of the same man.

"Are you alright?" He asked for the second time since she arrived from the talk to the waitress. Helen looked at him and saw nothing but a face, cute by the way, and as far as she knew, sweet. She wondered why Octavian Gardner the bad ass neighbor was being polite with her instead of wandering the streets looking for some interesting new meat.

Octavian's fingers snapped one by one under the table. He was trying to figure his neighbor out. What exactly differed a lesbian thinking from his? Nothing, really, as she liked women exactly like he did. The ice cream arrived, finally, and he devoured every flavored part of it while Helen finished her choco holding both sides of the mug, drinking in small sips, elbows on the table and eyes fixed on the horizon (therefore on him). The image of that stupid man licking and smiling tickled her pink, the way he moved his tongue into the cream made her think of other naughty things he might use it for. Octavian, Octavian...