Chapter 19
FIFI
Pacing around Pammy’s apartment, I check my phone when it pings and smile. Then a trill of nerves shudders through me because they’re finally on their way here from Trick’s doctor appointment.
Resuming my pacing, I try to stay positive.
Pammy’s place is the first floor in a three-family house a few blocks from the other end of campus from mine.
It’s closer to downtown Durham in a quaint neighborhood.
Most importantly, there’s a vacant bedroom available since Pammy’s former roommate left after last semester, and she hasn’t found a replacement yet.
It took some begging and dealing to convince her to let Trick stay, mostly because I’m paying his rent and asked her to tell him he’d be staying rent-free.
That was a big sticking point, and I have a feeling it would be a big sticking point for Trick too if he knew.
But I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
My phone pings again, and this time I read Darcy’s text.
Darcy: Where the F are you? Class has started, and the prof is pissed you’re not here. We’re talking about special projects. When are you getting here?
It’s almost scary how fast I shoved aside my most important design class, the one with the professor I most looked forward to taking when I transferred here, so I could see Trick.
Desperately isn’t too strong a word to describe how much I need to see he’s alright with my own eyes and to hold him and be with him.
When I hear a car pull into the driveway, I put away my phone without answering the text. My nerves jangle like someone’s prodded me with a live wire. My heart floats all the way up my throat, and I rush to the door, only to stop myself.
Trick can’t have a lot of excitement according to Pammy’s text.
I know that means no sex, but I don’t care. Just holding him will feel good after worrying and not being able to be there for him when he got hurt.
The door opens, and Pammy steps in first, but Trick moves around her so fast I’m surprised Pammy doesn’t spin around in his wake.
“Trick.” My heart bounces wildly, and I don’t have a chance to move before he wraps me in his arms. I hold him against me, soaking in his strength and warmth.
He feels healthy and whole , and relief sends my emotions over the edge.
I only hope he doesn’t notice my tears because I can’t explain why I’m so overwrought that I can’t even think right now.
We stand like this, in a desperate clenching hug, for a while as he kisses my temples and bends his head to whisper in my ear.
“I’ve missed you Feef. So much. Dreamed about holding you like this.”
“I’ve been so worried about you, wanting to hold you and take care of you.” I kiss the rough stubble along his jaw until our mouths meet.
Then it’s like heaven lights me up from inside and liquid lightning flows through my veins.
Pammy clears her throat. “How about if I show you your room?”
Pammy and I don’t let Trick take any of his things into the room and manage to get everything from the car in two trips, including the Toll House cookies and a poster with tape marks around the edges.
It says MAKE LOVE NOT WAR—which he promptly tapes to his wall.
After I bring in a quilt that looks handmade, I find him sprawled on the bed, his eyes barely open, watching me.
It’s the way he smiles like a predator lying in wait to pounce that makes my toes curl inside my boots.
“What are you looking at?” he says, his voice low and shivery.
“The man of my dreams.”
“Come here.”
I slip off my boots and saunter towards him, turning off the warning bell in my head to let him rest.
In a few minutes he can rest.
It’s dark by the time I emerge from Trick’s room, closing the door quietly behind me so I don’t wake him. I pick up my phone to see a few more dire warning texts from Darcy. I missed my design class. Shit. I’ll deal with that later. I’ll make up for it somehow.
The old-fashioned apartment is quiet, and I look around for Pammy. She’s not in the kitchen or living room, and I knock on her bedroom door. “Pammy?”
No answer. I return to the kitchen, where there’s a light on, and look around.
It could be a set for a 1940s movie. The sink has a built-in dish drain in white porcelain and a large deep basin.
The stove is large and has porcelain knobs.
I wonder if the gas burners have automatic pilots or if you need to light them with a match.
If I didn’t watch old movies with my grandma growing up, I wouldn’t know what to think. There’s a big old Frigidaire refrigerator with rounded corners, a pedal at the bottom to open the freezer, a table in the center of the room, and no cabinets. But I look around and find the door to the pantry.
Glancing back at the kitchen table, I notice a piece of paper held in place by a salt shaker. It’s a note from Pammy, and I read it.
Sofia,
I had to go to work at the bookstore. Here’s the key.
You’re welcome to stay over if you want. It’s been quite a day, but I had fun.
Hope to see you soon.
Pammy P
p.s. I work until 8. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge or pantry.
p.s.s. Thank you for the make-over! I’ll return your things after I wash them.
Reading the note again, I pause at the invitation to stay over. Pammy has to be the most generous, kind person I’ve met in a very long time. She’s the nice kind of girl I want for a friend.
But I can’t take advantage of her good nature and stay over.
It’s bad enough I talked her into letting Trick stay here. Guilt zaps me into action, and I gather my coat and bag.
Then I stop. I can’t make myself leave Trick without one last kiss, so I go back into his room.
Pushing a wavy lock of hair from his forehead, I caress his face and lose myself in those startling blue eyes as they open and darken into that sexy wolfish glaze. Then I kiss him lightly and pull back.
“I have to go.”
“I wish you could stay,” he says.
“I have a class. I already missed one earlier.”
“You missed a class for me?” he grins.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“That’s not where—”
I laugh and put a finger over his mouth. But when he tries to suck it in, I pull it back, laughing again, and move off the bed, putting some distance between us.
“You’re incorrigible,” I admit. But I don’t admit that I’m tempted. Far too much. Is this falling in love? Not that I’ve ever felt this way. I need to talk to my sister.
“Come back soon, Fifi. Don’t leave me in this strange place to fend for myself.”
Fluttering in my tummy ensues. “I’ll be back. Though you’re not exactly going to be alone, are you?”
“No.” He frowns. “Why did you arrange this crazy roommate slash fake girlfriend deal?”
“A million reasons.”
He nods. “Daniel.” We stare at each other for a few breaths, reading each other’s thoughts and hearts. I know we’re thinking the same thing.
“Are we doing the right thing, Fifi?”
That question has too many possible meanings and too many possible answers.
“I don’t know.” I don’t know what he’s asking, and I don’t know the answer to whatever it is.