The Donor by Nikki Rae Page A

wouldn’t track water into the house.  He had me sit in the kitchen while he busied himself, making something for dinner. Being at the cabin was like being in a vacuum that sucked up the time. It was already nine o’ clock.  I texted my mom while he worked. She was excited that I was having such a good time, but wanted to know how much longer I would be there. I didn’t give her a direct answer, just told her soon.
    Jonah set a plate down in front of me and set a place for himself as well. When I looked at it I smiled. Spaghetti and meatballs. He went into the fridge and took out a bottle of wine and poured himself a glass.
    “Can I have some?” I asked.
    He smiled and it was like he was already laughing. “You’re a little too young for alcohol.”
    But he took out another wine glass and filled mine for me about halfway. I smiled before I took a sip. The only time I really drank was once in a while in high school, when I was pressured into it by people I wanted to be friends with. I never really even liked the stuff or had any interest in trying it out again, but being with Jonah, after the day we had today, I decided I deserved to feel a little detached from my body. The dark red liquid warmed my mouth and throat as I swallowed and I liked how it made me feel. More comfortable when I knew I should have been anything but.
    “I hope you like it,” Jonah said, breaking the silence. I looked down at my plate, the smell of sauce flooding my nose. “I haven't made it in a while.”
    I wondered idly if he made this for his daughter. If I was some surrogate version of her that he could take care of in some way. It should have bothered me, but it didn't. It just made me incredibly sad.
    “It smells great,” I said.
    And it was.
    We ate mostly in silence, but we were both okay with it. Nothing really needed to be said. We would pause here and there, me between bites and him in between watching me eat and eating once in a long while, and smile at each other or say something in passing, like how warm it was in the room or how cold it was outside.
    When I was finished, I stood to clear my plate, but he was already clearing it for me. I finished my second glass of wine and he motioned to the bottle, asking if I wanted more.
    I did, but I was a little tipsy already. “Trying to get me drunk, eh?”
    He laughed. “You've barely had any.” And the way he spoke told me he was feeling it too. I hadn't been keeping track of how many glasses he had.
    I held out my glass to him and he poured, refilling first mine, then his. I let it sit on the table for a while before I took another sip, deciding that pacing myself was the best option.
    “Do you want to sit in the living room?” he asked after he was done washing the dishes, laying them on the drying rack and wiping his hands.
    I nodded.
    Jonah took both of our glasses from the dining room table and I followed him into the living room. He set them down on the coffee table in front of the couch before he sat down, but I couldn't tear myself away from the aquarium. The fish swam by and the water rippled around them, the image dispersing into blurred colors.
    I pressed my hands to the tank like I would be able to join them before I heard the clink of a glass being down on the coffee table. I turned to see Jonah studying me with a smile that didn't touch his eyes.
    “Sorry,” I said, taking my hands off of the glass and stepping backward.
    “It's okay,” he said, crossing his leg over his knee. “I like watching you.”
    Suddenly self conscious, I stared down at my feet. “I can't be that interesting,” I said.
    Jonah cocked his head to one side like I had said something confusing. “Of course you are.”
    He patted the seat next to him and I shuffled over, sitting down too close. Our legs were touching. But neither of us moved away.
    Reaching an arm around the back of the couch, Jonah pulled me a little closer. “I doubt there are many people like you in the world,” he