Page 33 of No Place Like You

“Still…”

“Okay. Whatever you need to feel comfortable while you’re here.”

“I’ll pay rent at the first of the month like I was doing back at that…shoebox.”

“Lucy, you don’t have to do?—”

She lifts her palm in my direction. “Dexter, I’m not going to take up a room and freeload off of you for the next two months.”

The tone of her voice leaves me zero wiggle room. She’s determined. “Fine.”

“Also, if you have…guests over or something, just let me know. I’ll make myself scarce. I don’t want to put a damper on your social life.”

I shrug. “I guess, but that’s not really necessary.”

She nods. “And lastly, if you’re going to order pizza, I’m paying for half.”

“No.”

She frowns. “No?”

“No.”

“But that’s what roommates do,” she argues. “You go halfsies on things.”

“You said ground rules or whatever,” I start to explain, shaking my head. “But you paying for lunch is a hard limit for me.”

She holds back a smile. “Hard limit?”

“Yes.”

She giggles. “I’d hate to push you beyond a hard limit,” she says playfully. “Should we give you a safe word?”

My stern face of resolve softens, and a cheesy grin slices across my face. “I like pizza.”

“Me too. Just no anchovies.”

“I meant for a safe word.”

She clamps her lips together, and her hand moves to her face in an attempt to hide her own smile that’s growing more and more infectious by the minute.

“No anchovies,” I say, my lips curving into something more suggestive than a simple smile. “Sausage okay?”

“And olives please.”

I nod with a smile still stamped on my face, pressing my phone to my ear to place the order from the closest pizza shop saved in my contacts.

While we wait for the pizza to arrive, we both disappear into our rooms. It’s still early, barely past noon. But with the AC on full blast and the enticing thought of a lazy Sunday afternoon, I change out of my stiff jeans and into something much more comfortable, sweatpants and a tattered undershirt, before I beeline to the kitchen to toss the bottle of orange juice and walk into the living room. I’m restacking some magazines and wooden coasters when Lucy reemerges. She must’ve had the same idea as I did because she’s dressed down in attire just as leisurely and laid-back as mine. Her long legs are bare in her sleep shorts, stopping just at mid-thigh. She’s wearing an oversized University of Washington shirt that covers mostof her shorts, making her look like she’s not wearing any bottoms at certain angles. Her feet are covered in fuzzy panda socks, and she’s pulled back her hair in a small claw clip, showing off the rounded curves of her cheeks and narrow slopes of her jaw and neck.

“Food should be here soon,” I tell her as we settle on the opposite ends of the couch, and she nods. She starts to fidget with a magazine on the coffee table, an issue ofPeople, and she lifts an inquisitive eyebrow in my direction.

“Keeping up with your celebrity gossip?” she asks. “Maybe I should come to you to get my fill on the latest Selena Gomez and Justin Bieber drama.”

I chuckle. “My sister, Janet, left those last week.”

“Janet.” She says my sister’s name like the sound of it results in a sudden epiphany.

“Yeah,” I say, eyeing her curiously. “Why?”

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