“That weekend’s yours,” he said softly.
Thank God.
“We’ll text.” That sounded stupid, considering he lived downstairs, not in Australia.
“Soon it’ll be too cold for us to talk outside. I’ll miss it. I looked forward to it, wondering if I’d see you.”
I wished I had the nerve to suggest I knock on his door to give up a good-morning kiss before we went our separate ways, but that pretty solidly contradicted the terms of the friends-with-benefits thing. So I said nothing and curled into his arms when he wrapped them around me. The last thing I did was try to memorize how he felt, so close and warm, because I’d want to picture it through sixty nights alone. I fought sleep as long as I could.
I lost.
In the morning, Ty was subtly different. Not that he was cold or showed signs of regrets, but I could see him changing, putting away the person he’d permitted himself to be and shifting back to dad mode. As promised, he made us a couple of omelets for breakfast, and they were delicious. But after we ate, it was past ten, and I could tell he was ready to go pick Sam up. I recalled what he’d told me about spending Sundays with his son, and I didn’t imagine it was different, even on his off weekend.
To make it easier, I said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to get going. I finished midterms last week, but I already have assigned reading and some projects to work on.”
That was an exaggeration. I had one chapter and an actual lesson plan to prepare, but it wasn’t due until December. Ms. Parker had told me weeks ago that I’d be expected to work up a lesson that fit with her curriculum and teach a class before I left the practicum. I hadn’t spent much time on it yet, so that wasn’t a huge lie. Just a white one that relaxed him and made him feel like he wasn’t kicking me out to get back to his life.
“No, I get it. I have some work for tonight, too, after Sam goes to bed.”
So I hugged him, and Ty kissed me until my toes curled. Which I thought was a fictional physiological response, until he made it happen. When I broke away, my fingers were fisted in his shirt, and I had to make myself let go. Symbolic, huh? Then I scooped my belongings into my backpack and went upstairs. It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Leaving probably always would.
Nobody was awake when I crept in. Though I had my tablet in my lap, pretending to read, I heard when Ty left. But on a deeper level, I felt it, too, just like he’d said. It sounded poetic and slightly improbable, but the whole building felt emptier, an echo where there had been warmth. Shaking my head, I actually did read the chapter for my mild-impairment class, and I was dozing on the couch when Lauren got up just past noon.
She showed no mercy in poking me awake. “So how was it?”
“Phenomenal.”
“One word? That’s all I get?”
Before I could respond, Angus came tromping out of his room, disheveled and adorable. “About what? Did something delicious happen?”
“From Nadia’s expression, yeah. Repeatedly. But she’s refusing to tell me more.”
“It’s rude to kiss and tell, especially when we can gawk at the sex monster who lives downstairs. We totally heard you screaming through the floor.” His back was to me as he made coffee, using the fancy machine I hated, and for a few seconds, I just stared in mute horror, remembering how I cried out while Ty was going down on me.
Lauren took pity. “He’s kidding. We heard nothing.”
“Thank God.”
“But apparently, it was scream-worthy,” Angus said, dropping onto the couch next to me. “Now that is interesting.”
“If you two don’t shut up, I’m hiding in Max’s room.”
Lauren’s expression flickered, some strange combination of sadness and remorse. “That would be fine. He’s not in it.”
“Oooh, sour.” Angus didn’t know they’d slept together, I suspected, or he wouldn’t poke at her. “I didn’t get any play this weekend, either, so try not to be grumpy that our roomies did.”
“Who’s up for going out later?” A change in topic seemed to be in order.
She seemed grateful. “Count me in. I haven’t left the apartment since Friday.”
“You could’ve borrowed my car. I left the keys on the hook by the door.”
“I know. There were some parties I could’ve gone to. I was just feeling lazy.” The way her eyes cut away from mine told me she was lying. Indolence had nothing to do with it.
Before I could call her on it, Angus put in, “I know a guy who’s throwing a Halloween bash tonight. We could check it out.”
“Costumes?” Lauren wondered aloud.
He made a face. “Hell, no.”
Since I had no plan when I made the suggestion, this sounded fine. “I don’t feel like dressing up, but I’m down for a party. What time?”
“Starts at eight, which means it should be good by nine,” Angus answered.
Lauren hesitated, glancing between us like she had mixed feelings. “I don’t know. When you mentioned going out, I thought it would be the mall or a movie.”
“You don’t have to,” I said. “If you’re not up to it.”
She appeared to square away some inner conflict. “No, it’s fine. I’m in.”
“Leave by eight-thirty?” Angus asked.
I confirmed with a nod, then I escaped to my room on the pretext of working on my lesson plan for the practicum. Instead, I took a nap. It was late afternoon when I rolled out of bed. Hunger drove me to the kitchen, where I showed off my mad culinary skills by making cup ramen. I didn’t see Lauren or Angus, so maybe they went to lunch. Max was parked on the couch, still bruised, but the marks were fading.
“Good weekend?” I asked.
“It was shit,” he muttered.
“What happened?”
“I spent it at the garage. The owner doesn’t mind if I crash on the couch in his office.”
It seemed like our talk on Friday hadn’t helped. “Maybe you should consider subletting. I don’t want you to go, but you shouldn’t pay rent if you can’t stand to sleep here.”
“I know,” he said tiredly. “I just need to get over it. She doesn’t care what I do.”
“You should tell her how you feel, dude. Lauren can’t read your mind.”
In all honesty, I wasn’t sure it would make a difference. I didn’t get the sense that she was haunted by their night together. Something else seemed to be eating at her, but she’d stopped confiding in me, and I didn’t know what to do about it. With a pang, I remembered how we used to make a pillow fort in my room, hide inside and whisper our secrets. Back then, there was nothing I didn’t know about Lauren Barrett. I couldn’t pinpoint the precise moment that changed.