Chapter 17
17
Dexter
“Where did you go yesterday?” Janet asks.
“Um, I, uh, had to go help a friend with something.” I pause, unsure why my voice sounds so clumsy while on the phone with my sister. It’s not like Janet would be upset that I left her place yesterday without so much as a wave goodbye. Maybe it’s just Lucy’s presence, unwittingly making me a little nervous and uncool. “She had an emergency.”
“Oh,” Janet answers from the other end.
I clear my throat through a rough cough. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”
“I’m good,” she says, sounding pretty convincing. “I surprisingly got a pretty good night’s sleep. I think the changes my doctor made to my meds are actually helping.”
My face softens, and the tautness in my shoulders I didn’t even realize was resting there slackens. There’s hope laced into her voice, like it’s braided into all of the bad and the ugly she’s had to live with as of late, making not only her optimistic, but me too .
“Yay,” I exclaim quietly and Janet laughs.
Lucy walks into view just then. I’ve been in my kitchen, fixing myself a cup of coffee after I found that the orange juice in the fridge had gone bad, and calling Janet to check in on her.
Lucy’s wearing a dress that falls just above her knees. It’s a pale bluish color, one that looks like the color of the sky when the sun is starting to ease into dusk, and it’s not as bright but more muted and subtle. Her shoulders are covered with sleeves that cap them, and she’s finished off the entire look with an ensemble of necklaces, bracelets, and rings. It’s nothing special. In fact, she’s dressed down in something that looks as if she’s running errands or having a casual lunch with friends, but she looks like a literal breath of fresh air.
She waves a hand in my direction, obviously noting that I have my phone pressed to my ear, and pads her way toward the coffee pot behind me, stepping softly in her white Converse sneakers.
“Uh, Jan,” I say, my eyes on Lucy as she reaches for a mug from the wire dish rack, “I’ll call you later. Maybe I can come by later this week. I’ll bring over some ice cream and donuts.”
“Not my weakness!” Janet exclaims through mock agony.
I laugh and catch Lucy looking in my direction. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and the light streaming in from the windows catches against the small row of hoops looped through her earlobe.
“Bye, Janet.” I place my phone down on the counter, and when I look at Lucy, we share an awkward smile.
“Personal call?”
“Um, yeah.” I don’t elaborate. It feels a little upsetting and grave to discuss my sister and her illness and why I felt the need to check in on her first thing in the morning. Luckily, Lucy doesn’t prod any further. Instead, she glances at the small digital clock on the microwave and sips her coffee .
“We should probably head out in about fifteen minutes,” I announce after we’ve been taking loud, warm slurps from our mugs.
She nods. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
It takes about twenty minutes to get from my place to hers. Six subway stops and one car change later, Lucy and I are walking the last ten blocks to get to her building. When her building comes into view, we’re met with a man in his early to mid-forties wearing business attire that looks too stuffy for a Sunday morning. His terse features, brow drawn together in disapproval, and a scowl set in the narrow lines of his frown make him look incredibly unapproachable even with his gaze focused on his phone held in his hand.
Lucy and I reach the building just as the man looks up from his phone. “Are you Lucia?”
“Lucy,” she corrects. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
He nods, does a reproving once-over at me, and turns to walk toward the building. I peer at Lucy, and her eyes widen. My hand automatically moves to the small of her back, guiding her up the steps.
“Let’s get this over with,” I whisper. The softness in my voice and the encouraging way my steps follow hers earns me a small smile.
When we reach her apartment door, the guy, whose name I have yet to find out, opens it with his own set of keys. The knob jiggles, and it almost falls out of the latch. He lets out a sigh of disapproval and walks through the entryway.
“I locked it best I could, but it was already a little loose when I moved in,” Lucy starts to explain. “And the toaster oven was just done, so I threw it out, plus some?—”
“Why didn’t you tell the super that the door wasn’t locking right?”
“What? ”
“He could’ve come to fix it before someone broke in,” he throws in, that deep scowl on his face transitioning into something that aligns with rage. “Now I have to deal with this mess.”
“I’m sorry,” I cut in. “But I don’t see how?—”
He huffs loudly, interrupting me. “Women,” he mutters under his breath.
“Excuse me?!” Lucy roars and rears her face forward, and I have this impulse to hold her back. Not for her safety but for his.
“You wouldn’t know the difference between a loose doorknob and a flimsy purse strap. You probably tried to fix it with some nail polish or lip gloss.”
I take a step toward him, but Lucy’s hand cuts across my chest. “I don’t think it’s my responsibility to make sure a damn lock is working before I move in. As the property manager, it’s your responsibility to make sure the apartment is move-in ready. And I believe the listing said ‘central air?’” She waves a hand to the lone window in the room, where a window AC unit is mounted. “There are a lot of defects in this place that needed to be taken care of before I was ever handed a set of keys, so false advertisement should be the least of your worries, but none of that falls on the tenant when all of those issues were present before I even set foot in here.” She reaches into her purse, shifting through her things before brandishing a set of brass keys. “Here,” she states firmly. “I won’t be needing these.” She slides the keys on the small kitchen counter, and the scrape of metal to laminate fills the tense silence.
“But you have a lease agreement,” the guy says, his name still unknown to me, and to be honest, I don’t think I care to know it at this point.
Lucy shakes her head. “It was a month-to-month agreement,” she reminds him. “Which means there is no obligation on my end to stay here. And since my first month is up, I think I’ll find somewhere else to stay. ”
The guy sort of gapes at her, and that scowl he wore so proudly has shifted into shock. “Bu-But you have to give a notice.”
Lucy smiles her sweet smile. The one that holds a few secrets and tricks up her sleeve. “How about you take this as my notice, and I won’t place a call to the city? That mold in the bathroom was getting pretty musty, and I’m sure they don’t need to know exactly how much of it your tenants are being exposed to.”
I cross my arms over my chest, and my smug smile matches Lucy’s. Lucy offers a wave goodbye with a taunting wiggle of her fingers, marking her victory, and we walk toward the door.
“And the communal bathroom was definitely not on the listing!” she throws over her shoulder as we scurry down the stairs leading outside where we’re hit in the face by the late morning warmth. Lucy grips my arm, and leads the way, taking a few hurried turns until the building is no longer in view.
“Ohmigod!” Lucy exclaims softly. “That was exhilarating.”
“That was amazing,” I add.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” she says, pressing a hand to her chest. I can almost see the adrenaline lift from her body like a rise of smoke. “Ohmigod, I can’t believe I just did that.”
“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 of the 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’s staying .
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.”
“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 most of 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 of People , 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?”
“Oh, nothing. That’s a pretty name.”
“Yeah.” We sit for a moment in awkward silence. Her fingers toy with the edges of the magazine, flicking the corners with her thumb. “So, how’s the internship going?” I ask, cutting into the short period of quiet.
She slaps a hand to the cover of the magazine, delivering a defeated smack to Kim Kardashian’s face. “It’s…going.”
I shift in my seat to face her, and she does the same.
“We had this shoot yesterday, and I was taking some shots of one of the models. The head photographer for the campaign saw some of them and asked me to have them edited by Monday. But now, I don’t have a laptop. I’ll have to try to get to work early tomorrow and see what I can do.” She pauses, burying her face into her hands. “It just feels like…” She lifts her eyes to me. The inner corners of her brows turn up, and her lower lip juts out in the saddest little frown. “Whenever I take one step forward, I take two steps back. Maybe I should’ve listened to my mom. ”
I reach for her leg, the bony area of her shin since it’s the closest part of her to me, and squeeze her gently.
“Hold on.” I get up and go to my room to retrieve the one item that may add a cushion of support to the long list of mishaps and stress that’ve been thrown her way like a mean curveball. “I’m not trying to offer a solution because I know you’re going to figure things out on your own, but maybe this’ll help lighten the load a bit. God knows you’ve been through hell and back.” I extend my MacBook in her direction. “Use this. I have my work laptop, and I only use this for personal things.”
“Like a lifetime membership to Pornhub?” she asks with a sly smirk.
“More like my BDSM fanfic.”
Her brow lifts in amusement. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
I huff a laugh, and she eyes the laptop still in my possession. I nudge it closer to her. “I’m serious, Luce. Use it.”
The sad furrow between her brow is replaced with a sweet, appreciative smile. “Thank you, Dexter. That’s actually really, really helpful.”
I wave a hand, brushing off her gratitude.
“And it means a lot that you’d share your most treasured possession with me.”
“It’s just a computer.”
“I meant the fanfic.”
I laugh at the same time Lucy gingerly takes my laptop from my hand. “Hey, I have a question.”
Lucy looks at me with an innocent smile. “Hmm?”
“How do you know about Pornhub?”
Before she has a chance to answer, my intercom buzzes loudly, announcing the arrival of our lunch. Lucy giggles and shoves a hand into my chest, making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. When all I do is smile back at her, the intercom buzzes again, this time more impatiently.
I wink at her. “Saved by the bell.”