Lea was definitely not that person for me. Those were dreams that would never come to fruition. Not for me and not with him.
With a sigh, I got to work.
The next four hours flew by, and when it was time for my lunch break, I stood up and stretched. Sounds of laughter and music floated in through the window, and I realized I’d never closed it. I wasn’t sure I would, honestly. Maybe I wouldn’t mention the broken AC unit. I liked hearing all the sounds and smelling the restaurants and fresh ocean air. I could just get a fan if it got too hot.
I put on some jeans and a t-shirt, opened the door to my room, poked my head out, and listened.
Silence.
I stepped back into my room, hurried over to the dresser, and pulled out Lea’s Hawaiian shirt from that first day. I’d washed it, so it didn’t really smell like him anymore. I picked up the note I’d written and rushed down the hall to the kitchen, placed the neatly folded shirt on the counter, and set the note on top of it.
That should be fine, right? He wouldn’t be upset that I’d kept his shirt for so long, would he? Not that he’d returnedmyshirt, but I didn’t need it back.
And there was a deranged part of me that wished he would wear it again because seeing him in my clothes…
“Oh my god, shut up,” I hissed, rubbing my hands down my face.
I needed to focus. No, I needed to go grocery shopping and get more food, but should I really do that if I wasn’t staying? And how I was I going to manage finding a new place when I had to work all day? Shea was going to be so upset, too. I didn’t really feel like having that conversation. Or arguing with him. Ihated confrontation of any kind, and even though I knew he wouldn’t force me to stay somewhere I wasn’t comfortable, he’d push and push until he got the real reason out of me.
I raked my hand through my hair with a frustrated sigh. Okay, I just needed to take things one at a time and try not to overwhelm myself.
First, food.
I opened the fridge so I could check if there was even room to put a few things of my own. The contents were sparse; there were some condiments on the door, a takeout container on the top shelf, a carton of eggs, three cherry tomatoes, and a few of those little single-serve creamers diners gave out.
Did Lea not cook? Did he just eat out all the time? Every time I’d used the kitchen to make instant noodles, it was clean and looked completely unused. No dishes in the sink, nothing scattered on the counters. Neat and spotless.
I closed the fridge and refrained from looking in the cabinets, even though I was curious. It felt like an invasion of privacy despite the fact that Lea had told me what was his was mine.
I would just pop out real quick and find somewhere I could get takeout and stretch my legs while I was at it.
I was about to pull open the door when I realized I didn’t even have a key. I hadn’t left the apartment in three days, like a true hermit, so it hadn’t even occurred to me.
I couldn’t just leave the place unlocked while I went gallivanting around town. I’d have to get something delivered, then.
A bright orange post-it note caught my eye. It was stuck beside the octopus key-hanger, and there was a ziplock baggie with a key taped under that.
Was that for me?
Beau,
Totally forgot to give you a key the other day—oops! Voilà, here it is now. I knocked on your door the past few nights, but I wasn’t sure if you were sleeping or not and didn’t want to wake you, I get home kind of late. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen—sorry, I don’t really have much. I’ll be at work down at the bar all day, probably be home after eleven tonight.
XOXO
Lea
His handwriting was small and elegant, neat little rows of curling cursive letters, and I traced over the words with a light touch. The penmanship was beautiful.
My very first instinct was to save the note so I could look at it whenever I wanted, and because of how weird and creepy that was, I searched the kitchen for the trash can until I found it under the sink, then crumpled the note and threw it in the bin.
I pocketed the key and left the apartment, not having a single clue where I was going, but something akin to excitement thrummed through me. I wished I had more than an hour so I could go down to the ocean and sit on the beach. I didn’t even have swim trunks. Or suntan lotion. I couldn’t even swim, but standing in the surf sounded nice.
I was only familiar with where the back entrance of the complex was, so I left the building that way, walked across the parking lot and turned right down the sidewalk.
People wereeverywhere.
I felt out of place in my long pants, t-shirt, and sneakers. Everyone was wearing next to nothing. Some were even just in swimsuits, with a towel around their waists or slung across their shoulders.