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Chapter 16

Robin

Hayden is in my house.

I’ve been standing under the hot shower stream for almost thirty minutes, letting the water burn my skin. It’s been an awfully long day. I’m exhausted from all the crying. I said I’d be quick, but I can’t force myself to turn the water off. Something about the way the hot water prickles my skin and the steamy air around me hypnotizes me.

I give myself another five minutes before I turn off the water, shake myself out of my trance, and towel off. I realize I forgot to bring clean clothes into the bathroom, because, well, I usually just walk back to my bedroom naked. I quickly run a comb through my tangled hair and apply some moisturizer to my skin. Then I wrap the towel around my body tightly before I open the bathroom door and peer down the hallway.

Hayden is nowhere to be seen, so I scurry to my bedroom as quickly as I can and lock the door behind me. There’s no way he’d simply waltz into my bedroom, but I still feel more relaxed with the door locked.

After I put on a clean pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt from the college I briefly attended, I bravely make my way back to the kitchen, where Hayden has laid out a variety of takeout containers. He rummages through a drawer and picks out utensils before he spots me. His eyes soften when he looks me up and down, and I suddenly feel insecure.

He’s been with me for hours, has seen me have a full mental breakdown and cry my heart out, but I was so preoccupied that I didn’t have much time to think about what could be going on in his head. Until now.

“That’s a lot of food,” I stammer.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” he says simply and shrugs. “I gave you some options.”

I step closer to take a look, and I can’t help smiling when I recognize the restaurant he ordered from. “That’s from Yang Chow! That’s one of my favorite restaurants. How did you know?”

“I didn’t, but I wouldn’t trust anyone who doesn’t like it,” he says, grinning.

“Well, I passed your trust test.” I open the cupboard to take out bowls for us. “Here, so we can get a little bit of everything.”

We each fill our bowls with a mix of the different dishes he ordered, and I steer him to the couch in the living room. I don’t think I’m capable of sitting at a table across from him; it seems too formal, too intense. I feel vulnerable, so I decide that eating in front of the TV will be a nice distraction, and we won’t necessarily have to fill the silence with conversation.

“Do you like baking shows?” I ask as I plop down on the couch.

“Love them,” he says, settling down next to me.

“You do?” I give him a side-eye.

“Mm-hmm,” he says, not looking at me. “Watch them all the time.”

His poker face is impressive.

“Sure, you do. Which one is your favorite?”

“How could one choose?”

“Mm-hmm. Well, I’ll show you my favorite one tonight.”

I search through my streaming services until I find the one I’m looking for. I don’t normally watch a lot of baking shows, but I do when I’m sad. Something about the wholesomeness of it all always makes me feel warm on the inside.

We watch in silence while we eat, and I feel weirdly comfortable with him next to me. He has a calm and steady energy tonight, and I’m actually relieved he’s here. If I was alone, I’d probably spiral right now, and I most definitely wouldn’t have had the energy to figure out dinner.

When the episode ends, I glance over at him and finally ask, “How come you were at my house today?”

“I’ve been wondering when you’d ask.” He leans to the side and slings his arm across a cushion. “I came by to talk. Well, to apologize to you.”

“How did you even know where I live?”

“Kora told me. I’m not a stalker, I promise.”

“Kora told you?”

“Oh, don’t worry, she did not make it easy for me. I had to promise to make it up to you.”