Page 6 of No Place Like You

“You changed your hair.”

My hand lifts, my fingers raking through my short hair, a vast difference from when it was a shade darker than blonde and almost at elbow length when I first met him three years ago. Now, I’ve gone back to my natural dark color and had it cut to a near bob, stopping just above my shoulders.

“The bleached hair was getting a bit much to manage,” I explain.

“It suits you.” The corners of his mouth curl upward, and his eyes narrow in on mine, as if there isn’t a screen and thousands of miles between us.

That smile, the one that says,I know what you look like when you come, is enough to make my mind spiral in about ten different directions. Sure, he knows what I look like when a body-rattling orgasm rips through me. And sure, I know the sounds he makes when a similar sensation tears through him too. But that was ages ago—three years, to be exact.

I lower my voice, leaning a little closer toward the screen. “Thank you, Dexter,” I whisper, unsure of where my sister and her fiancé are. Whether they’re standing elbow to elbow with Dexter or in the other room, I can’t chance them hearing the guilt and secrecy oozing from my voice.

“What are the odds that I’d be here, visiting my old roommate, when you happened to be talking to Nat?” he teases, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. “Seems like fate had plans for us.” His voice isn’t hushed or discreet like mine. In fact, it’s the complete opposite. He might as well have a sign taped to his back that says I’VE SLEPT WITH THIS WOMAN.

“Can I get my sister back,please?”

I jump at the same time I see Nat’s thoroughly irritated face from the corner of the screen. Her small hands fling over him as his shoulder lifts to fight her off.

Dexter slaps her hand away. “We’re talking.”

“We were talking first!” Nat argues. I see her hand coming out from behind Dexter’s waist to finally get a grip on the laptop before it’s snatched out from under him. The screen starts to shake, and I get a close up of Nat’schin and nostrils. She walks into the only room in her small New York City apartment and closes the door behind her before sinking into an unmade bed. “Ugh, finally!”

“What’s Dexter doing there anyway?” I ask, hoping I sound nonchalant. Maybe I should tack on a question about the weather or mention the random Yahoo! News article I read about the dangers of skipping your nightly floss routine to hide my impatient curiosity.

“I think he misses Hayden,” she answers. She takes a quick peek over her shoulder. “He won’t say it, but after Hayden moved out of his place, he’s been randomly popping his head around here. I think he feels a little lonely even though he says he likes his privacy. Says he’s been walking around naked a lot.” She cringes.

“Oh.” That’s a little…sad. “So…”

“So?”

I roll my eyes. “Nat! You’re engaged!”

She laughs, tilting a shoulder toward her cheek. “Miss blushing bride.”

“I know it’s only been a few days, but any plans for the big day?”

She sits up straighter, her hands splayed in front of her with her game face on. “Nothing official yet. But…” She pauses. “We’re thinking Hawaii.”

“Hawaii?!”

She nods. “Hayden’s aunt has connections with the hotel she manages in Indiana, so we can get a pretty good deal on the venue and rooms. And we thought it would be nice to have a honeymoon doing a little island hopping. Plus, it’s the perfect excuse to keep the wedding small. I don’t want to make a big ol’ fuss about it, and this way, we only invite the few people willing to make the trip.”

I smile endearingly. “That actually sounds kind of perfect.”

“Right? It’ll give us a chance to take a nice vacation together. You, me, and Carmen.”

“Yeah.”

“I miss the three of us just hanging out,” she adds. “I hardly see Carmen anymore since I moved out. And the only time I get to see your face is during these FaceTime calls.”

“Has Carmen been picking up extra shifts again?” I ask, curious about our oldest sister, who’s a quick trip across the bridge away from Nat.

She nods. “It’s always something with that hospital. If they aren’t short-staffed, then there’s some big trauma that keeps her long past her shift.”

I laugh. “Helping sick people. It’s almost like Dr. Marquez signed up for it.”

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t be complaining. She’s, you know, doctor-ing. But I just missus.”

“I miss you guys too,” I tell her, wishing I could place a reassuring hand on her arm through the screen.

---