Chapter Text
This was a bad idea.
Maybe the worst idea I’ve ever had.
I’m tempted to turn around, walk to my van, take the insanely long driveway back to the motorway, and go right back to my shop where Penny will be waiting for me to say, “I told you so”.
But the closer I get to Pitch Manor, the more resolved I become in my decision.
So what if this is my arch nemesis house (do people have arch nemesis anymore?)?
So what if they made my life a living hell all through my Secondary School years?
So what if my somewhat “Bi-awakening” happened years after the fact, and my arch-nemesis/ ex-roommate/ haunter of my dreams/nightmares was the catalyst?
So what?
This is just another job that pays.
I reach the ornate door after dragging my feet up the path and I have to take a moment to gather my thoughts before reaching my hand up to knock, but before I can, I hear someone speak.
“It’s unlocked, come in,” the voice says.
“Hullo?” I’m looking around to find the source of the voice.
“I can see your intellect hasn’t improved much, Snow. Please enter, and remove your mud-covered shoes. You’ll find me in the study.”
I finally see, hidden behind some overgrown vines, a Ring doorbell. He most likely saw me stumbling up the steps, and trying to talk myself into knocking. I’m a little embarrassed, and it shows itself by mumbling insults under my breath at the house’s occupants.
“I can hear you.”
I flip the doorbell the V and walk in.
The old house is nothing like the rumors I heard about it growing up. The parties that used to happen here left everyone envious of Malcolm Grimm and his heir. Now it’s in need of a complete make-over. I’m making a mental list as I walk to where I assume the home’s owner is:
- Hardwood floors need to be sanded and refinished. Find the idiot that covered half of the gorgeous flooring with laminate and stuff sawdust up their nose
- Stairs need the same treatment as the floors and re-carpeting to boot.
- The window coverings look like they had a run-in with an ornery cat– all need replaced and preferably with a color other than blood red.
- Befriend cat if there is one.
- The baseboards are rotting off, but they must be original to the house as I haven’t seen those designs in the woodyard in… well I’ve never seen it. I’ll have to re-sand and repaint or call Aggie. Reminder to charge extra.
- I see wallpaper peeling in the hallway up the stairs. I can already feel the paste that will be stuck to my fingers and under my nails after tearing it from the wall.
And that’s just what I can see in the twenty feet I’ve walked. It’s becoming very clear that the quick touch-up job I was expecting is not in the cards.
“In here, Snow.” A voice comes from my right, down a long hallway.
It sent a chill down my spine when it harped through the doorbell. It finds me in my dreams, causing me to wake up with regret, and other feelings I can’t quite put my finger on (and ones I can but choose to ignore). Right now, it’s giving me goosebumps that trail up my arms, making the hairs stand on end.
Baz Pitch is sitting at a desk looking like he hasn’t aged one day since we graduated, and glared our goodbyes at each other. Now his inky black hair is pulled away from his face, tied in a low knot on the nape of his neck. The appearance of dark, black stubble along his jaw and above his upper lip is the only indicator that time has passed. It looks dashing, and I can’t deny I’m jealous of his ability to pull the look off.
His clothes look as posh and expensive as always. I’m sure as soon as he stands I’ll see that they are fitted perfectly. They’ll show off his slender waist, and fit footballer thighs. If he even plays anymore... I’m sure those muscles don’t just go away. Honestly, I don’t know how I ever denied that I was deeply attracted to him; he’s flawless. He might have the personality of a bridge troll, but he’s completely breathtaking to look at.
He’s glaring at the papers that surround him at his desk, his eyebrows pinched together. The same look he used to get when that night's homework was causing him trouble. Or, he was trying to read, and I played my music at an obscene level to annoy him.
“Sit down.” He points with a pen toward the chair in front of the desk without looking up at me. I take two steps and realize I definitely did not take off my boots, and there is definitely a trail of mud behind me. Baz finally looks up from his desk, dull lifeless eyes noticing the same muddy wake; all he does is shake his head and sigh. I take a seat, feeling his grey eyes follow me. I brave a look at Baz. He’s staring me down from behind his desk in a far too familiar way and I have to look away.
I look down at my hands, losing the first battle.
“Nice house.” I cringe after the words leave my mouth.
“No need to lie for my benefit, Snow. We both know why I’ve called you here.” I look up from my hands and see a small smirk playing at his lips. Is he teasing me? Is this teasing? “Let’s get down to it, shall we?”
“Yes.” I croak, clearing my throat. “Yes. Let’s do that. Get to it.”
“The house is–” Baz starts.
“Shit?” I can almost feel Penny smacking the back of my head. I hurry to apologize. “Sorry.”
Baz laughs.
Actually laughs.
I don’t know if I ever heard him laugh at school, not like this. It’s full and deep, like he’s laughing with me instead of at me.
“There you are,” he relaxes in his chair, slouching down, and letting his legs stretch out under the desk. I can see the toe of his shiny black shoes just under my side of the desk. “Yes, the house is rather shit. It’s been uninhabited since I left for Uni.” He pauses, like he’s waiting for me to say something. I don’t. “But now my Aunt is getting married and she wants to do it here, on the “ancestral grounds”. It was left to me and so does the burden of making it presentable before the wedding. Lucky me.”
I snort. Leave it to Baz to make inheriting a huge house sound like a misfortune.
He ignores me and continues on. “I need all the hardwood floors redone, the god-awful wallpaper stripped in every room and the walls repainted, all the rotting bits replaced, and the kitchen cabinets replaced.”
I nod my head, mentally high fiving myself for his list matching mine, “Timeline?”
“Eight weeks.” He sits back up in his chair and goes back to shuffling the papers, not meeting my eyes.
“ EIGHT WEEKS!” I’m flabbergasted. “This kind of remodel takes months! ”
“I thought you were the best, Snow?” There’s the Baz I know. The arrogant, posh twat who’s used to people giving in to his every whim. “If you aren’t up for the job, I’ll hire someone who is.”
I know what he’s trying to do. It’s not the first time he’s tried riling me up to get me to do something out of spite. Most of the time it landed me in the headmasters office looking at weekend detentions. I hate that I have no defense for it after all these years. I already know I’ll agree before he can throw another taunt my way.
“I’ll do it.” I spit, accepting his challenge.
“Wonderful.” He says, sliding a folder my way. “Here’s the contract. You’ll see you’re being compensated generously due to the time constraints, and any materials you need will be provided for you. Get me a list at your earliest convenience. Or better yet,” He pulls out his wallet and throws his bank card on the table, it lands with a clatter in front of me. “Use this. It’ll save us both time.”
“Not worried I’ll go on a spending spree?” I ask, not completely joking. I still feel like he might be setting me up.
“You’re far too honorable for that.” He states with no hesitation.
I look over the contract, trying to catch any hidden clauses or funky wording, but I can’t find anything. He’s even included a clause about me not being at fault if it’s not completed in time. Honestly, I’d be stupid to not sign it.
I read it again.
During my third read through, Baz’s leg starts bouncing under the desk, and he’s fidgeting with his pen. I’ve never made Baz Pitch nervous before. The thought makes me a little drunk with power.
When I flip the pages back to the beginning and start over again, he loses it. “For Christ’s sakes Snow, there’s nothing nefarious hidden in there. Are you taking the job? Or do I need to find someone with higher reading comprehension?”
“Give me the bloody pen!” I snatch it from his hand and sign before I can think about it anymore.
While Baz makes a copy, I take a moment to look around the room. There are still sheets covering most of the furnishing, but all in all, this room isn’t in bad shape. Even the old desk he’s sitting at looks polished and near perfect. He clearly has spent most of his time here since he returned.
Baz turns around and hands me a copy of the contract and a key on a key ring. “Come and go as you please. I am staying in the house for the time being, but I suspect you care about as much as you always have about disturbing me.” He gives me a look as if he’s challenging me to argue with him. I don’t. “Nonetheless, if you need to find me I’ll be in here or in the garden trying to tame the weeds and make sure there are no vermin there to crash the big day.”
“Some might pay to see a rat scurry up your aunt's dress on the big day.” I point out. Fiona Pitch isn’t exactly warm and fuzzy to most people. It’s quite a surprise she’s found someone daring enough to marry her.
Baz chuckles, and tiredly rubs his hands over his face. “Be that as it may, I don’t wish her wrath on me, or anyone, should things not be up to her standards.”
We sit in an awkward silence. There have been a lot of silences between us before. Angry ones. Irritated ones. Even respectful ones (even at our worst, I could generally see when Baz was stressed and needed a quiet place to study). But this feels different. It feels like we are both holding back something.
When I decide I can’t take it anymore, I stand up from my chair. It makes a terrible screeching noise as it slides back.
“Mind if–” I say as Baz says “I suppose–”
We both stop.
I crack first. The laugh bubbles out of me. Baz tries to remain calm and collected but only lasts a few moments more before he has to cover a laugh with his hand. At one point I’m pretty sure I hear him snort, but I won’t bring it up.
“This is right weird.” I say when we finally settle.
“For once we agree,” he stands gracefully, and slides his hands in his pocket, perfect stoic face back in place. I’ve always found it unnerving how fast he could go back to being an emotionally unavailable statue. My face gives away everything I feel, but Baz has perfected the thin lip, dead eyes look. Not even an awkward laugh with an old enemy could get him to relax. “I’ll let you have a look around. I’ll be in here if you need me.”
“Alright.”
I turn on my heel and follow my mud trail back out to the entryway. I get out my notepad as I walk, I get to work scribbling what I already know needs done. No time to waste.
~~
“So, how’d it go?” Penny asks me, speaking loudly to be heard over the sounds of the pub, and setting down a pint glass in front of me.
“Hmmph,” I grumble before taking a large gulp of the amber colored liquid. “Same Pitch, different decade.”
“Did you behave yourself?” she asks, cocking her head.
“Of course!” I say while Penny raises an eyebrow at me. “Look, it started out pretty rough but then…then, it was fucking weird, alright. He was too nice, for him, only snarked at me a handful of times, and the contract he drew up is far too generous. I don’t know what he’s plotting but I’ll–”
“You’ll what?’ Penny interrupts. “Break his nose again? Accuse him of stealing your girlfriend? Wait, no girlfriend, so that won’t do. Oh! Tell everyone he tried to murder you?”
“He pushed me down the bloody stairs, Pen!”
“Yes, so you’ve said every chance you could since it happened. Approximately 367 times, or an average of once a week for the last decade and a half. I added a few because I’m sure you bring it up when I’m not around.”
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest, I’m fully aware that I’m pouting but I can’t be arsed to care right now. Penny’s never understood Baz and I’s relationship (or lack thereof I guess).
The entirety of the time we were roommates, I never truly knew if he would stab me in my sleep, or smuggle me up scones but deny it until the sun came up. Everyone else had a built in best friend with their roommate (except Penny, she hated hers. So I really don’t understand why she can’t relate) but Baz made sure we’d never be more than mere acquaintances. His constant antagonism, and my ‘fight first, ask question later’ mentality, was a recipe for disaster. One we could never get past.
But, there were times, like when he’d look at me on the first day of term with my head buzzed and down to my summer weight, or when he asked what my holiday plans were… I swear I saw his mask fall and compassion in his face. Of course I didn’t want that then and would lash out until the sneer was firmly set back onto his face and a slew of insults were dripping from his mouth.
It was a balancing act we could never quite master.
“Look, Simon,” Penny says. “From what I’ve heard Baz doesn’t have time to be plotting. Between this renovation, his job and trying to navigate his family, his hands are full. Give him a break.”
My mind reels with questions. Which one of those things has made his grey eyes so dull and lifeless? Did he become the lawyer his dad always wanted him to? Is his aunt being a bigger pain in the arse than I imagined? Does he have anyone to vent to?
“I won’t start anything,” I say. “But if he–”
“That’s all I ask,” Pennys interrupts. “Now, Agatha called this afternoon and said she could get those baseboards you sent me the picture of, but that they would cost you. They are vintage and she’ll have to either fabricate them or cross our fingers that she can find them at a furniture restore shop.”
“I’ll send her a block of it so she and Niamh have a sample if they have to fabricate them,” I say, taking the topic change gratefully.
“Perfect. Also, Shepard says he should be able to get you some beautiful gothic light fixtures–
“Victorian.”
“What?”
“The house is Victorian,” I say.
“Oh, I thought you said Gothic. I’ll text him. Either way, he’ll get you all set up there.”
“Great,” I say, taking the last swallow from my glass. Penny sets down her phone, her notes app still open and waiting for her to add or take off an item.
“Simon, you could have declined the job.”
I couldn’t have. “I know.”
“You still can.”
I really can’t. “I know.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“I don’t hate him” I don’t. I really, really don’t.
“Ok,” Penny says. Swiping out of her phone, hopping off her chair and sliding her jacket on. I guess we’re done. “I’ll call you tomorrow with the ETA on those door fixtures.”
“See ya,” I stand and kiss her cheek. She looks at me with more concern than I deserve, but in the end just shakes her head and walks away without saying anything else.
I stay and drink another pint.
And then another.
I’m debating another one when someone gracefully slides into the chair across from me.
“Not looking for company, mate,” I say, avoiding eye contact so they don’t think they can convince me otherwise.
“Come on Snow, one drink for old times sake,” a deep voice says. My head whips up so fast I get dizzy.
There sits Baz, in an old ratty jumper (that looks a lot like one I lost back in school) and jeans, swirling a glass of red wine between his nimble fingers.
I swallow back my surprise and motion for the bartender to bring me one more.
“Miss me that much, Pitch?”
He laughs through his nose and mumbles something before replying, “I’m loathe to say it, but you’re the only friendly face I know in this town anymore.”
“That is truly sad.”
“Tell me about it,” he says. His eyes fall to his wine and I watch his long fingers going up and down on the stem of his glass. It’s mesmerizing.
A silence descends on the space between us. I look up and catch him watching me. His cheeks turn a shade of pink I never saw when my main goal was riling him up enough to turn his face any angry color. But in true Baz fashion he doesn’t turn away or back down. Just lifts his glass and takes a sip of his wine while keeping his eyes on me. Challenging me.
I can’t look away.
If this was anyone else, I’d invite them back to mine. Pour him a glass of whatever I had laying around in my fridge. Crowd him up against my counter until his wine stained lips were being pushed apart by mine. We’d leave a trail of clothes on the way to my room and then I’d pull his hair loose and spread him out on my bed and make him beg for me to touch him.
I feel my own cheeks heat up at the thought and I lose the battle, having to look away before his gaze lights me on fire.
I see him smile at the victory out of the corner of my eye.
“When’s your family coming here to help with the wedding prep?” I ask finally.
He stiffens and sets his glass down with a loud clink.
“They aren’t,” he says in a tone that would warn most people to move on.
I am not most people.
“What, finally push them away too?”
“Some would say that.”
He’s being particularly cryptic, and I narrow my eyes at him to let him know I’m on to him.
“Daddy spend too much time with his new family, then? Not showing you enough attention?” It’s a low blow. I regret it the moment it leaves my mouth.
He sighs and pinches his nose between his fingers, loose strands of his hair falling in front of his face. When he looks back up, he just looks tired, there’s no anger behind his eyes at all.
“I’m really sorry. I don’t know why–” I start.
“Let’s just call it a night, shall we?” He finishes off the last of his wine in one swallow, and stands. “It’s been a day for both of us, and old habits die hard I suppose.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I stand as well, and collect my jacket.
I follow him to the door silently, wishing we lived in another time and place. One where I could compliment his long legs in those jeans and he’d smile back at me with mischief in his eyes. Or just one where we could be mates and get a pint whenever we wanted. He looks like he could use friends, and that’s all I ever wanted from him, friendship.
The cool spring air hits my face and Baz is stalking away down the pavement before the door even closes.
“See you tomorrow then?” I yell after him.
He stops and turns around, walking backwards while he says “See you tomorrow, Snow.” Then turns gracefully back around in one smooth motion.
I wait until he turns the corner, and then I wait a bit longer just in case.