Page 32 of No Place Like You

“He deserved it.”

“No, I mean, I can’t believe I did that. I have nowhere to go,” she says, her round eyes suddenly filling with dread. “I think I have to call Nat or Carmen.”

I study her eyes. “Do you…want to?”

She looks at me, and the apprehension is written all over her face. “I might not have a choice.” She peers at the ground like she’s searching for an answer. Maybe a different solution to this problem that upended her living situation.

I grip her shoulder, calling for the last bits of her attention. “It’ll be okay,” I tell her, tilting my head to force her eyes to me. “I’m sure Nat’ll be too happy to have you here to lecture you or tell you you made a big mistake about the internship.”

“I guess, but…I just don’t even know where to start.” She pauses to nibble the edge of her thumb before she runs her fingers through her hair and lets out a deep, frustrating sigh. And I realize I may be wrong. It might not be okay. After my talk with Hayden and how it seems Lucy’s entire family’s been doubting her and this internship, it might not be the right choice to tell them. Especially when she already seems so vulnerable about her decision to move out here. What if she’s met with disapproval and judgment? Or worse, with reprimand?

“Stay with me.” Those three words that have been running through my head like a self-affirming mantra finally slip through my lips.

Lucy’s face shifts into a twisted look of confusion. “What?”

“Stay with me.”

“Like, until I go back to Seattle?”

I nod. “I mean, if you still want to tell Nat, you can, but do it on your own terms. You can think about how you want to tell her. Give yourself time to ease into it.”

“Dexter, I don’t want to…” she protests. “You have a life. People you…see. And?—”

“Lucy, you’re not imposing on anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. I have that spare bedroom you can take. You wouldn’t be taking up any space that’s currently occupied.”

The inner corners of her eyebrows pinch together, and her lower lip juts out in a small, subtle pout as she mulls over my offer.

“Really, Lucy. Just stay with me.”

“Okay.” She says it so softly, I don’t even hear it correctly the first time. I think maybe I simply hear her quietly exclaim “oh” as a reaction in place ofthe answer I’m hoping for. But it isn’t. She’s saying yes. “Yeah, okay,” she repeats.

She’s staying.In my apartment. In the room across the hall from mine. The same room I can see right into if both of our doors are left open.

She’sstaying.

My heart starts to hum inside my chest, and a swarm of butterflies flutters in my stomach. I’m nervous. I should have cleaned up a bit before I brought her over. Maybe vacuumed her room and lit a candle in there. I definitely should’ve thrown away the expired bottle of orange juice instead of putting it back in my fridge like I usually do.

The journey back to my apartment is quiet. We sit inside the cacophonous clanks and booms in the subway amid the rattling train cars and blaring announcements. We trudge up the stairs and round corners with her always half a step ahead of me and my eyes on her tight shoulders. We approach my building passing glances at each other with tense, forced smiles. The kind of smile you give a stranger on the street when you accidentally make eye contact.

When Lucy walks into my apartment, she lingers a bit by the entryway before carefully walking to my couch where she perches herself at the edge of the cushion.

“You hungry?”

She looks up at me as I hover over the coffee table and pick up some loose trash. “Um, sure,” she answers.

“I can order a pizza,” I tell her.

“Okay.” Her voice sounds meek, and I realize how awkward and unresolved this situation is. We decided she’d come back home with me over a cursory agreement and her unexpected need for a roof over her head, and I almost feel like there needs to be a set of terms and conditions between us or she’ll leave at the first wave of doubt or regret.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

She straightens her back and her jaw sets in a solemn look of resolve. “I think we need to set some terms or ground rules.”

“Terms?” I respond, finding it a little amusing that I was thinking something along the same lines.

“Yeah.” She presses her lips together and exhales a firm sigh through her nose. “You’re basically my landlord now and usually, when there’s a landlord-tenant type situation, there’s, like, a lease agreement.”

“I’m not going to kick you out or change my mind, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

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