Page 57 of No Place Like You

Maybe this awkward silence is really a thing. Though not the usual type of awkwardness most experience. Words feel caught on my tongue, questions I feel need to be cleared and absolved. But that suddenly feels scary, almost terrifying. So much so that this “awkward” silence feels like areprieve.

When I wake the next morning, Dexter isn’t there. The apartment is empty, and the silence filling it feels almost too quiet. Much like the awkward silence that lingered last night. We finished dinner and went to bed—our separate rooms—without discussing anything. Without scrolling through our phones to check out flight deals on Expedia.com or suggesting a night cap with a few episodes ofSupernatural. We were both really tired, so it made sense that we embraced in a much-needed hug before going to bed, but then I fell asleep feeling so confused. We should have talked. I should have told him that what happened should never happen again and reiterate the multiple reasons it should never happen again. Like us living on opposite coasts or that if this didn’t work out, it would complicate things. Hayden is his best friend. The best friend who’s marrying my sister. If this went south, it wouldn’t just involve me and him, it would involve family and friends.

I walk to the kitchen without bothering to change or run a brush through my hair first. It’s Sunday, and since I don’t have anywhere to go, mussed bed hair and stained pajama pants it is. When I get to the counter, I see a note scribbled on the back of an unopened credit card bill.

Coffee’s in the fridge. I’ll be back soon. Please miss me.

I smile, and it hurts. Not in the way that my cheeks are sore or my jaw strains. The ache is in my chest, where it fights the giddiness bursting from my heart.

Please miss me.

I don’t need the request for me to realize the ache is there because I miss him. Not just now with him gone from the apartment for a short amount of time, but for how I’ll miss him in the future. Once I go back home, there’ll be no more notes scribbled on random scratches of paper. No more surprise cups of coffee waiting for me in the fridge. No more plates of food arranged exactly the way I like it. No more Dexter.

I let my smile dwindle into a confused frown, and I reach for the fridge. I find my usual caramel macchiato order sitting on the middle rack and just as quickly, the smile is back. He remembered my order.

I start sipping my coffee and return to my room. It’s a mess, clothes strewn all over the place and my suitcase still an open heap on the floor. It feels like a good time to clean up. I start with my clothes, gathering a pile to start a load of laundry downstairs, and move on to my toiletries. When I get to the one bathroom Dexter and I have been sharing, I realize how much of my things have taken over his space. My razor that I used just last night lies at the edge of the tub. My curling iron is resting on the bathroom counter, unplugged, along with all of my eye shadows, makeup brushes, and skin care products. My shampoo, conditioner, body wash, even my overpriced loofa fill the space in the tub, shoving his own products to a small corner. All this, me invading his space, and he hasn’t mentioned it once. It doesn’t even feel like it annoys him but he’s keeping his mouth shut to be polite. It feels like it truly doesn’t bother him. Like him, living like this, with my presence so glaringly obvious, is just fine, and he’d gladly give up the space for the sake of my comfort.

With Annabelle, I was conscious of my mess, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. We both remained respectful of each other’s space and haven’t had any issues. And it’s always worked for the both of us. But all of that flew out the window with Dexter. He shoved away the mindful consideration of living with another person from my head and allowed meto just be me. To be the messy, carefree Lucy who enjoys the process of getting ready and hours of uninterrupted primping.

My phone rings in my room, and I jolt for it, expecting it to be the one person who’s been occupying my mind all morning. But it’s Annabelle, along with a welcoming FaceTime call, and I smile, missing her and Jeremy.

“Hey, Ann!” I squeal as I answer, excited to see my friend. When the screen clears from the blurry image before the call comes through, I not only see Annabelle but Margo and Alma too. The three faces beam at me with the sun shining behind them.

“Lucy!” they all shriek at the same time. They start to giggle, looking behind them at what looks like an outdoor patio, mindful of their high-pitched voices in a public setting.

“What are you guys doing?” I ask, a little melancholy that I’m not there with them.

“We’re having brunch,” Alma answers, her thick-rimmed sunglasses covering her eyes. “And wemissyou!”

“I miss you guys too.” My lips turn down into a little frown. I miss themsomuch.

“How’s the internship going?” Margo asks, shielding herself from the sun with her hand hovering above her forehead.

“It’s going,” I answer. “Learning loads.”

“And the mystery man you’re keeping from us?” Annabelle cuts in.

All three faces zone in on me, wide eyes and even wider smiles.

“I told them,” Annabelle says without batting an eye. I roll my eyes, and that just makes them squeal like schoolgirls.

“There’s nothing…going on.”

“You paused,” Annabelle points out boldly. “Why did you pause? Is it because you’re lying? You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Okay,” I fold. And that elicits another round of squeals. “There was?—”

“Mind-blowing sex?” Annabelleinterrupts.

“Ann!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She rolls her eyes and raises her hands in the air with her palms facing me. “An intense wringing out until you’re sucked dry.”

I bury my face into my hands. “Oh my god.”

Margo jumps in and smacks Annabelle’s arm. “Would you just let her finish?” She turns to the screen, and her face softens. “Okay, we’ll be quiet and let you tell us. So please, because we’re dying to know over here.”

“So there may have been some heavy making out, something in the second to third base region?”

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