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Annalise:

Do you think you’ll find it weird going back to playing at the Gladstone?

Mackenzie:

Maybe. But I can deal with anything as long as I get to sleep in my own bed.

His bed.

Tomorrow night, he’ll be back in this apartment, sleeping two thin walls away from me.

Mackenzie:

By the way, did the Christmas explosion involve putting up a tree?

I glance toward the corner of the room, where my two-foot artificial one looks disproportionately tiny, even in my small apartment.

Annalise:

Just a little one. It’s not big enough to put presents under. It’s more of a symbolic gesture.

Mackenzie:

Maybe we should get a big one? A real one?

I get way too excited at his use of the word we.

Annalise:

Maybe we should.

Mackenzie:

We should do a lot of things.

My breath feels thick. It’s like I need the full use of my brain to pull it in and out, in and out.

I’m desperate to type Things? What kind of things? But instead, I send back a very lame smiling emoji.

Mackenzie:

I should probably pack, but I’ll see you tomorrow

Annalise:

I can’t wait

I set my phone on the coffee table and start to reach for the TV remote, but I stop myself. I’m tired but not quite tired enough to fall asleep. I consider making hot chocolate, but as I lift my head, my gaze lands on the hooks next to the door and Mackenzie’s leather jacket.

I haven’t tried it on since that night weeks ago when nothing happened, and I threw it across the room.

Tonight, as I take it off the hook, it isn’t answers I’m looking for; it’s just a reminder of him.

The leather still holds remnants of his scent. I cradle it in my arms, the collar pressed to my nose, like a total weirdo, and carry it back to the couch, where I snuggle under it like a blanket.

Closing my eyes, I picture his dark blond hair and deep blue eyes as my breath evens out and I drift toward sleep. I’m fantasizing about tomorrow. Him: opening the door to the apartment, holding out his arms, pulling me tight to his chest as I crash into them.

I swear I can feel the slight scratch of his stubble on my cheek—when everything around me goes black.