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Fatima knew she’d made a mistake the moment she heard OA’s voice calling her name from her bedroom. They’d just arrived back from her picking him up at the airport and he’d brought his case into her room to unpack, fill up the drawer she’d cleaned out for him… and no, that didn’t sound scary at all. She was sure she’d cleaned the room, her entire apartment in fact, to within an inch of its life but now she realised that there was one thing she’d missed. One thing that lived in her bedroom, something that she was so used to seeing that she didn’t even register it anymore.
Sure enough, when she walked into the room, OA was standing in the corner beside the chair that saved her from having a full on floordrobe. She took a moment to relish the sight of him, both his physical form and the fact that he was in Los Angeles, in her apartment, in her bedroom, notice how his jeans clung to his ass and how his T-shirt accentuated the muscles of his arms and chest. Then she saw what he was holding in his hands, just as she’d feared.
A familiar grey hoodie that practically lived on that chair, near the top because she wore it every day.
A familiar grey hoodie that was miles too big for her because it had once been his until she’d stuffed it into her suitcase and brought it back with her from New York.
“I’ve been wondering where this was.” He held up the grey material, his eyes narrowed as he looked over at her. “You took it back with you?”
Fatima affected a shrug. Memories of how she’d come to wear that hoodie the first time - he’d draped it over her shoulders as she was curled up in his bathroom, alternating between crying and vomiting over an extremely affecting nightmare - had her casting her eyes downward. “I packed in a hurry,” she lied. “I guess I just threw it in my bag.”
OA made a sound at the back of his throat. She new that sound, knew it meant that he didn’t believe a word she was saying. “So that’s why it was on top of this…” He glanced towards the chair, obscured as it was by a pile of clothes, his face twisted in an exaggerated frown. “Is that a chair under all that fabric? I can’t tell.”
She knew he was teasing her, burst into giggles. “Shut up, okay?” She grabbed the hoodie out of his hands, pressed it against her chest. “It’s cosy, I like to wear it. Besides, it smells like you.” She dropped her head into the soft grey fabric, inhaled deeply and frowned. Having recently buried her head in OA’s neck and chest, the scent of the hoodie was a pale imitation of the original. “Or it did.”
OA chuckled at that, snatched the hoodie back from her and, to her surprise, pulled it on. “So why don’t we give it a boost?” he asked her, zipping it up with a smile. Looking down at himself, he inclined his head ruefully. “I think it looks better on you.”
“I disagree.” Fatima stepped close to him, her fingers finding the tag of the zipper. “But maybe you should take it off? To be sure, I mean?”
“Just to be sure,” OA agreed, bringing his lips to hers.
They didn’t talk for a while after that.
They didn’t worry about the hoodie either.