Chapter 11 Lucy
ELEVEN
Lucy
I lift the lid on the washer to switch my clothes to the dryer. There’s a man’s sock sitting on top. A dirty man-sock. Like maybe Miles opened the washer and tossed it in, not realizing it already had clothes in it.
Gross. Who tosses a single sock in the wash? Did the other one run away?
I close the lid and turn on the wash again.
I open the dryer and see that Miles still has his clothes in there, so I grab a laundry basket and toss them all in. I take the basket and set it on the couch. It feels too weird to go set it in his room, like I’d be entering a sacred space.
I pick up the TV remote and flip through Miles’s streaming services and find the show I’ve been wanting to start.
I get it set up, then head to the kitchen to pop some popcorn from my stash.
I’m assuming Miles is gone because I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning and his laundry was still in the dryer.
Usually, he’s pretty good about being on top of it. He must be out testing camping gear.
With a grunt, I struggle with the popcorn package, trying to rip open the plastic. I didn’t know that stores had to theft-proof their popcorn.
Finally, I rip it open and toss it in the microwave, punching the popcorn button. I stand next to the microwave to babysit the bag while it pops—the automatic button always burns the popcorn if I let it go all the way to the end.
I pull out my phone and text my friend Krystal.
She’s been a saint, taking care of Alexander for me.
She lives in the country and has all sorts of animals running around her twenty acres.
She didn’t even blink when I asked if Alexander could stay with her until I figured something out.
But I really, really need to find out where I can keep him here.
I would talk to Miles…but I also keep hoping I’ll miraculously have a windfall and I’ll be able to get my own place, where I can make a home for my dog and me.
Alexander is the best boy there ever was…but he’s not exactly inconspicuous. And most people don’t want a giant dog ruining their backyard.
Maybe I should get a weekend job. It’s not like I have a roaring social life anyway. The more I work, the faster I can afford a place, especially with the low rent Miles is charging me.
Krystal texts back a picture of Alexander lying on the rug by her fireplace, and it makes me smile. So cute. He’s a precious little thing, and I miss him.
“Wow, that smells good!”
Miles’s voice makes me jump, and I bang my elbow against the counter and yelp.
I turn around to look at him with wide eyes. He’s standing in the entryway with his keys in his hand as he slips his shoes off.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“That’s okay. I like to have a little heart attack in the evening. Really livens things up!” I say over the popping popcorn.
Miles grins and hangs up his keys. “Next time, I’ll honk the horn when I pull into the garage.”
I shake my head, smiling as I pull open the microwave before it’s even beeping. It smells delicious.
“What?! I didn’t know the next season was even out yet!” Miles exclaims as he points at the TV, where I have Love & Lies cued up.
“It’s the season finale!”
“Wait for me!”
He disappears down the hall, and I pull out a bowl from beneath the counter.
My heart speeds up to an uncomfortable rate, where it feels like it’s pounding in my throat.
Maybe his scaring me really did something.
Or maybe I’m slightly excited about doing something like watching a show together.
Gosh dang it, I think I’m lonely, which is absolutely appalling.
I really do need to get my dog here. I won’t be so desperate for someone to want to spend time with me.
But the thing is, I never lack for people who want to hang out with me—I just have a hard time finding people I enjoy spending time with.
Luckily, Miles is turning out to be one of them.
I grab a can of Mountain Dew from my shelf in the fridge and sit down on the couch.
Miles hurries into the living room and plops down on the opposite end from me.
He freezes when he sees the basket of laundry on the couch. “Is that mine?”
“I needed the dryer, so I figured I’d just leave your laundry here for you. It felt too weird to go into your room without you here,” I explain.
He jumps up and grabs the basket, taking it down the hall to his room. When he comes back, he sits down and grins at me. “Thanks. Sorry you had to mess with my laundry. I forgot to grab it out before work this morning.”
“No problem.” I take a long sip of the cold Mountain Dew.
He glances at the can of pop in my hand. I raise my eyebrows at him. He mirrors me.
“Are you going to judge my life choices or watch a TV show with me?”
“Definitely watch TV,” he says with a mock-serious look on his face.
“Good choice,” I reply as I hit ‘play’ and grab a big handful of popcorn to shove in my face.
The show’s intro starts playing, and we start an easy rhythm of taking turns reaching into the popcorn bowl. We both make sure not to bump hands—ever—because that would be weird as roommates. It’s okay to share a bowl as long as you never touch.
Halfway through the show, Miles starts coughing after a bite of popcorn. I don’t know if I should pat him on the back, attempt the Heimlich, or simply pretend I don’t notice as he slowly chokes to death.
He’s turned away from me, coughing into his elbow, so I simply shove my can of Mountain Dew in front of him.
“Here.”
He turns to see what I’m holding and snatches it up to take a long drink. He’s lucky I have anything left. Usually, I can pound a can in about fifteen seconds.
I watch as he tips it back, his throat working as he finishes the rest of the can. Hypothetically, yes, we all have muscles. But when Miles tips his head back like that, I can count his neck muscles.
He sighs as he looks back at me, holding up the empty can. “Thanks. Guess I shouldn’t inhale popcorn, huh?”
“Let’s just say, I’ve been there and done that. I’m pretty sure anyone who eats popcorn has had a near-death experience.”
Miles chuckles at that and looks at the can in his hand. “I forgot how good this stuff is.”
“Hmm, not so judgy now, are we?”
He grins and stands up to walk into the kitchen. He comes back with another can of Mountain Dew for me. “No wonder you still drink it.” He plops down on the couch and passes it to me.
“Why don’t you drink it if you like it?”
He shrugs. “I went on a kick of clean eating.”
“So, you took all the joy out of life?”
“Exactly.”
“So, you don’t do things like drink pop or eat sugar?”
He shrugs. “The sad part is that I have more energy when I don’t. But it doesn’t mean I don’t occasionally mind a good ol’ sugar crash.”
His little grin is contagious when I see him pull up a second can of pop and crack it open. “I’ll grab you a new box at the store tomorrow.”
“Will you be able to make it through the haze of your crash?”
“You can come with me and push me in the cart.”
I laugh at that. “Now, that I’d like to see.”
We spend the rest of the evening in companionable silence, watching TV and drinking pop.
For some reason, it’s the most comfortable I’ve ever been around someone, and I can’t help but think how nice it is to not be on edge in my own home.