Page 28 of No Place Like You

“I’ll talk to you later,” I say, ignoring her little comment. “Give Jeremy lots of kisses from me.”

16

Dexter

She thinks about us?

My stomach starts to do somersaults, flipping and rolling and twisting like it’s entering some all-American gymnastics semifinals competition. I don’t have time to process this new revelation that Lucy thinks about our one-time tryst. Or three-time tryst. It’s surprising how much we were able to fit into a few hurried hours.

Lucy walks out of my spare bedroom, her steps slow and dragged while carrying the look of a guilty puppy dog on her face. I start to quietly sift through the takeout containers on my kitchen counter, gently spreading them out before opening and peeking inside to make sure everything I ordered arrived correctly.

The rustling of plastic and screech of Styrofoam rubbing against more Styrofoam fills the quiet as Lucy sidles up to my side.

She’s freshly showered, and her hair is still damp. I can smell the clean soap scent surrounding her, almost like fresh laundry with a hint of something fruity. Like lemons and cherries. She looks at me with a small smile,and I can’t help but feel protective of her. She sounded so weary and scared over the phone when she called me, and even more so defeated when I arrived at her apartment. I hate that she was in that place, where she felt so helpless. And I don’t care that this overprotective impulse makes me want to hold and soothe her. I give in a little to that impulse and place a hand at the small of her back, where I can feel the smooth skin under the thin oversized shirt she has on.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“You’re welcome,” I whisper back. I shove away the urge to place a small kiss at her temple and remove my hand before I impulsively start rubbing circles into her skin. “So did you hear back from the property manager yet?”

She nods. “He finally called me back,” she says with a tightness in her face making her look even more stressed. “He wants me to meet him back at the apartment tomorrow at eleven. I guess the super is out of town for the weekend. Probably why I couldn’t get a hold of him.”

I nod. The mere thought of her going back there runs a chill of unease through me. And those completely rational and reasonable reasons why I want her to stay with me start to float over my head again.

She would be safe.

She wouldn’t have to play cheek buddies with someone else’s ass in that fucking outhouse.

She’d never have to see that slimy neighbor again. What kind of a name isGaryanyway?

“I’ll go with you,” I tell her, knowing how serious my voice sounds. And it matches the energy drifting between us. Quiet with a hint of calm and an edge I can’t place. Like a string pulled taut, somehow pulling me to and from her at the same time.

“Back to my apartment?”

I nod.

“It’s okay, Dexter,” she objects. Her finger flicks the empty brown paper bag that held all of the to-go boxes, and the hollowness inside of it makes the sharp paper sound loud, expressing her frustration and guilt. “You’ve done enough. And I really don’t want to impose. Plus, I’m an adult. I should be able to do this on my own.”

“I know,” I say in agreement. “Just call it…moral support.”

She doesn’t argue further. Instead, a hint of a smile peeks through her bravado. Whatever mask she’s been wearing all day to hide the aftermath of one helluva welcome party to the city and what I’m sure was a pretty jarring experience slides down her face for a second.

“Um, thank you, by the way.” She taps at the aluminum tab of the Coke can I set out for her, along with a bottled water and a peach Perrier, unsure what her drink preferences are. “For coming when I called. Letting me stay here tonight.” She pauses and looks up at me. “For the food.”

“Sure,” I answer softly.

“And, um…thank you for not making things, like, super awkward.”

I feign ignorance with slightly puckered lips and a furrowed brow. “Why would things be awkward?”

A flash of disbelief and amusement swipes across her face. She rolls her eyes and purses her lips together, but it does nothing to hide the smile shouldering its way through the tilt at the corners of her mouth. “Dexter.”

“Lucy,” I mimic.

We stand there in a silent stand-off, our hands resting on our imaginary holsters. “Really?” she finally asks, obviously a rhetorical question. “Youknowwhy.”

I can’t help the wide grin creeping up my face. I try to hide it, pulling my lips between my teeth and crossing my arms at the same time I lean my hip against the counter. So she’s choosing to address the elephant in the room.

My thoughts wander a little bit, letting that elephant shine in the spotlight for a moment. They veer toward a direction they reallyshouldn’t be heading at this exact moment. Like the sounds of her moan when my mouth latched to the curved underside of her breast. Or her light giggle when I wrestled her against my sheets, her body molding to mine as if she were made for me. Or the harsh scrape of her nails digging into the skin on my back and shoulders.

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