Of All the Things that I Don't Know (Spot Conlon + OC)

Chapter 29

The rain hadn't stopped for over a week.

I found myself sighing as I stared out the window of the downstairs common room, distractedly watching the large droplets traverse across the foggy pane over and over again. The rhythmic patter against the windows soothed me somewhat as I did my best to refocus myself on the small cleaning task that awaited me. Luckily, my persistent nagging throughout the many months I had resided in Brooklyn had incited the boys to mostly maintain the downstairs dusting and organizing themselves, but the upcoming party that evening had required a slightly more in depth polishing of the space-one that several of the younger boys had promised to help me with earlier that morning. However, when the light drizzle at dawn had steadily intensified throughout the day, I had known that the boys would most likely wait out the heavier part of the storm within the smoke-filled walls of O'Toole's before making their way home-which unfortunately meant that the task I had been postponing was destined to be a solo one.

I, of course, had never minded the plethora of cleaning chores that habitually fell to me day in and day out at the Brooklyn lodging house. But for some reason, today of all days, I felt very much averse to the idea of quietly taking on the common room alone-the solitude and monotony of the task offering very little distraction for the wide range of other stressors that seemed to continually dance across my mind.

"Tired, dear?"

I turned my head with a slight start, having not noticed Mary's quiet entrance from the hallway corridor several moments before. I shot her a half-hearted smile, noting her warm green gaze flashing in response before she matter-of-factly added, "I would have thought you'd be aflutter with excitement about the upcoming party this evening."

I widened my eyes as another heavy sigh forced its way out of my mouth, somewhat surprised at Mary's uncanny ability to quickly pinpoint the issue at hand whether it be spoken or not. I crossed my arms over my chest after turning my body to lean against the window ledge behind me and stiltedly replied, "I suppose that would be a normal person's reaction to the idea of a party."

She chuckled, shaking her head in amusement as she seated herself at one of the tables before me, shooting me a knowing smile and asking, "But not yours?"

I shrugged uncomfortably as I replied, "No. Unfortunately with Manhattan coming tonight, it changes my level of excitement quite a bit."

"Hm," she said, nodding slowly before adding. "Thomas doesn't seem to be particularly bothered by it."

I rolled my eyes as I responded somewhat exasperatedly, "Nothing ever seems to bother him like it should."

"Have you considered that perhaps you allow things to bother you too much?" Mary quickly quipped back with an amused smile.

And although I bristled a bit at her well-meaning prod, I still found myself slowly shrugging in concession, offering a small smile in Mary's direction as I thought back to the corresponding conversation that Spot and I had initiated earlier that very morning.

I remembered being roused gently from sleep by a pair of soft lips upon my neck and a groggy, though familiar voice murmuring, "C'mon, baby. It's time to get up."

I had peered hazily over my shoulder through slitted lids, groaning as I had noted the still darkened sky through the window across from us, grumpily muttering, "I'm not getting up until the sun gets up." while pulling away from Spot's light smirk upon my neck to re-cover my exposed arm with the blanket.

Spot had chuckled, undeterred by my swift brush off as he had more firmly snaked his arm around my middle to pull my back against his warm, exposed chest. His lips had rested upon my ear in such a way so as to insight a reflexive shudder from my body before he had whispered, "What if I promised to shower you with endless amounts of compliments and praise?"