Chapter 15
15
Lucy
“Holy shit! Are you okay?”
A deep sigh slips through my lips louder than I mean to. From my sprawled out position on the full-size bed in Dexter’s spare bedroom, my elbows pressing into the soft mattress and my chin resting on the heels of my hands, I offer a sad smile to Annabelle through my phone screen.
“Yeah,” I say through a deep exhale. “I’m fine.”
I’m as fine as I can be, considering half of my belongings have either been ruined or stolen. Along with my MacBook. My fucking MacBook!
Every time I think of all the work I have saved in my laptop, the pictures, I want to crumble into a pile of mush. A gloopy, hundred-and-twenty-seven-pound Lucy mush pile. And I can’t even afford to replace it right now. How am I supposed to get any work done without a laptop? I guess I should consider myself lucky I had my camera on me when I got robbed. I think if that were stolen along with my MacBook, I would’ve called it quits and taken the next flight home .
I peer at my luggage still standing upright with the handle retracted and realize how lucky I am that I had Dexter to call too. I considered calling my sisters, but then the idea of calling Dexter popped into my head, and it felt like the better alternative to ambushing my sisters with my presence in New York City and the burglary that left me a sobbing mess.
When he got to my apartment, it felt so right. He knew exactly what to say, how to comfort and console me. He even knew when to stay quiet and let me simmer with my own thoughts. Having him there while I dolefully picked up my ruined things made it less scary and daunting. And it was really sweet how he rolled up his sleeves and started collecting the mess with me.
“And who’s this guy you called?” she asks, a hint of concern and suspicion cloaked over her face. “Don’t tell me you hopped on Tinder in the month you’ve been gone.”
“He’s an old friend,” I explain. “My sister’s marrying his old roommate.”
“Hold up.” Annabelle stops me. “Is it…Mr. Wrung You Out Like a Dish Towel Three Years Ago?”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that conversation.”
“How could I forget the best sex of your life?”
I whip my fingers to the volume on my phone. “Annabelle!”
“What? Those were your words, not mine,” she answers innocently. She lets out a small giggle at the same time I give her a piqued shake of my head. “Does this mean a round two?”
“Absolutely not !”
“Why not?” she argues.
“Because, Annabelle,” I scold. “We can’t. What happened was a one-time thing. I was never supposed to see him again. But now, his best friend is marrying my sister. Which means I know his people and he knows my people. I can’t do casual sex with men who know my people. I don’t want to complicate things right now. Especially not right now. I need easy breezy, not…complicated messy-cated.”
Annabelle smiles with a taunting bounce of her eyebrows, making a flush creep up my neck.
“Can we talk about something else?” I beg. “It was a meaningless hookup. Basically a one-night stand. I was drunk and stupid and, like, really horny. And I doubt he even thinks about it. I mean, it’s been three freaking years. Of course he doesn’t think about it! It would be near stalker status if he still thought about it. I mean, right? He can’t still be thinking about it?”
“So did you still want to change the subject or…”
I sigh and slump my head back to face the ceiling, not even bothering to hide all the confusing thoughts running in what feels like a loop in my head. “He can’t still be thinking about it,” I repeat, more to myself this time.
“Well, you obviously still think about it,” Annabelle comments observantly.
I lift my head enough to side-eye her with something that isn’t quite disapproval but leans more toward ambiguous.
“I mean, you do, right?”
I finally give in and fully face her, shifting an inch closer to my phone screen. “All the damn time.”
“Lucy!” Annabelle practically shrieks. “What are you doing on the phone with me? Why aren’t you out there, jumping his bones?!”
“Annabelle,” I plead. “What is wrong with you? Why do you act like everything wrong in my life can be fixed with a hot and sweaty fuck fest with someone I shouldn’t be thinking about in that way?”
“I mean, it can’t fix it, but it can make it easier to deal with,” she answers, her thin argument dissolving into an unconvincing set of words, making me even more uneasy about invading Dexter’s personal space.
“Ann— ”
My words are interrupted by a rough cough that sounds like it’s meant to get my attention rather than an act of clearing one’s throat. I turn to see Dexter at the doorway, his hand on the doorknob that definitely didn’t click when he opened it.
Shit! Did I leave it open?
“I ordered some food if you’re hungry.”
“Is that him?” I hear Annabelle whisper loudly through my phone. I panic-reach for my phone and fumble with it before turning down the volume on the call.
“I’ll be right out,” I answer, a guilt-stricken look on my face. My heart starts to pound in my chest, and my ears feel hot. I really hope he didn’t hear me.
“I ordered Thai. I hope that’s okay.”
I avoid his eyes, keeping them trained on the floor instead. My gaze lingers on his bare feet, where his loose sweatpants stop right at his ankle. They shift on the wood floor, and his toes wiggle a little. The vulnerability of the exposed skin, so different from the confidence in his deep, gravelly voice, makes me feel fuzzy and warm inside.
So apparently, I have a thing for feet.
My eyes finally meet his, and I immediately regret it. How can one look, one single, second-long glance, cause everything in me to dissolve into mush? I just want to run to him and cry into his chest. Thank him for unexpectedly being my knight in shining armor.
“Of course,” I answer.
Before he turns to leave, he takes one long, drawn out look at me. His eyes trail down the loose sleep shirt and short set I changed into after I showered, now a little stained with wet spots from the water dripping off my hair. My bare legs are crossed on the fluffy comforter, and my hands are tucked into the small space between my thighs .
Dexter closes the door slowly, and I turn back to face Annabelle. “Do you think he heard me?”
“I hope he did.”
“I’ll talk to you later,” I say, ignoring her little comment. “Give Jeremy lots of kisses from me.”