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LACEY
My phone vibratesin my hand and jolts me awake.
I sit up on the couch and rub my eyes. I kick off the pile of fuzzy blankets I’m buried under and stretch my arms over my head. My phone buzzes again, and Shawn’s name pops up on the screen.
“Hey,” I say when I answer. My voice is scratchy, and I clear my throat. “Hey. Hi. Are you here?”
“I’m out front. I woke you up, didn’t I?” he asks.
“What? No. I’ve been awake.” I stand up and yawn. “I’ll buzz you in.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Daniels.” He chuckles, and I smile as I press the intercom and hear the click of the lobby door locking in place behind him.
“I’m on the tenth floor. Elevators should be right in front of you.”
“I can’t believe I haven’t been to your apartment before. How is that possible?”
“Because we always go to Maggie and Aiden’s. Neutral ground. Plus, you know they have the best snacks.”
“I like the sculpture in the lobby,” Shawn says. “Very abstract.”
“What do you think it is? I say it’s a woman holding a fruit basket. Maggie says it’s a dog.”
“Wildly different interpretations, and you’re both wrong. It’s a rock formation.” The elevator dings in the background. “Kind of looks like Stonehenge.”
“What? You’re out of your mind. It doesnotlook like Stonehenge. That’s the best description you can come up with?”
“I’ll try again another day,” Shawn says. “After I’ve had a full night of sleep.”
“You must be exhausted,” I say, and I feel guilty for inviting him over.
It was selfish of me to want to check on him after he traveled across the country, but something in his voice made me want to see him.
“Less so now,” he answers, and the elevator doors open. “What number are you?”
“Twelve. Go right, then left.”
I can hear the thud of his shoes through the phone. The swish of his coat and his quiet breathing. I count to ten, then there’s a knock on the door. I open it and find Shawn smiling, his phone still in his hand and a beanie covered in snow on his head.
“Hey,” he says, and there’s an echo in my ear.
“Hey,” I answer. “Come in.”
We end the call, and he steps into my apartment. I close the door behind him and shift nervously on my feet. I wonder what my home looks like through his eyes.
It’s much smaller than his place, and I didn’t have time to clean up before he got here. There’s half-folded laundry on the chair in the living room. Four blankets are on the couch, wrinkled and crumpled in a ball. My dinner plate is still on the kitchen table, and there are drops of tomato sauce on the counter.
I’m suddenly self-conscious. Like I should’ve put more of an effort in before he got here. Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him over at all becausemiddle of the night rendezvousaren’t part of our normal friendship M.O., butfuck, I wanted to see him. Especially after the Titans lost.
I feel exposed. It might be because it’s the middle of the night. It might be because the lights are dim and the sky is dark. Whatever the reason, it’s like he can see every part of me. Therealparts I lock away during the day.
I’m not embarrassed or ashamed. I’ve worked hard to become the woman I am. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve learned lessons and worked on myself. It’s a new milestone for me to let someone seethisside of me, though—the side that doesn’t have everything together, but is trying her damn best.
“Sorry it’s messy,” I blurt out. “Mondays are usually my day for chores.”
“I like messy. It’s perfect,” Shawn says from over his shoulder, and I think my heart swells three sizes in my chest.
He walks around my apartment, nodding his head and admiring the pictures on the wall. He stops when he gets to one of me at the beach three summers ago. My jean shorts are unbuttoned. I have a bucket hat on my head, and my cheeks are as red as a tomato.
