Timmy nods, grabbing my hand that’s not holding my phone. “I know that now, Margaux. I really am so sorry.”
He rises to his feet, watching me cautiously, as if he’s afraid I might change my mind at any moment and order another Uber.
I put my phone in my fanny pack, zipping it up and clutching my backpack tighter, still unsure whether I’m making the right decision—but at least the anger and venom in his eyes is gone, replaced by something softer and more familiar.
“Come on,” he says, taking my hand and leading me back to Matty’s apartment. He opens the apartment door and guides me in. “Let’s go inside.”
I follow him back in, the space feeling strange now—quieter, calmer, like the storm has passed, but also left everything slightly off-kilter.
Timmy rubs the back of his neck, his eyes flickering with guilt. “I really am sorry, Margaux,” he says. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, starting right now.”
He takes my bag gently from my shoulder, and places it on the ground by the couch, and pulls me into a hug. His arms wrap around me tightly, as if holding me will stop everything from unraveling.
I exhale heavily again, pressing my forehead against his shoulder—still unsure if I’m ready to forgive, but relieved the rage has dissolved, and he seems to be trying.
“Do you want some ice cream?” he asks, pulling back enough to see my face, a sheepish smile forming at the corners of his mouth.
I nod, feeling the tiniest flicker of warmth in my chest. I’m not hungry, but my acquiescence is more about the gesture than the ice cream itself. “Sure, ice cream sounds good.”
He rummages through the freezer, returning with one spoon and a pint of Half Baked ice cream, and guides me into the bedroom. We settle on the mattress, together, me tucked under his arm, the duvet draped around both of us. We take turns devouring big spoonfuls of ice cream.
As the movie starts, Timmy rubs slow circles into my back, murmuring soft apologies between scenes. I feel the tension in my body ease, little by little, as the night unfolds with an unexpected gentleness. His attention feels genuine now—as if he’s trying to undo the damage he caused, bit by bit.
Matty stays out of our hair and gives us space.
Timmy rubs my back and my feet. He brings me wine and sparkling water. And he makes me feel like I really am the only thing in his universe.
“I really thought you were going to pop my baby shark,” he says, his eyes pleading.
“I said ‘let me move this so Idon’tpop it by accident’, because I know it has special meaning to you. I would never damage anything of yours. That’s not how I am as a person.”
Timmy frowns and nods, as if everything is sinking in. “I understand that now. I’m sorry that I got my wires crossed. I’ll listen better. Thank you for making sure you didn’t pop it.”
“Also, it’s a fucking balloon, Timmy. I can’t believe you got so upset over this, even though it has sentimental value which I totally get. You literally went crazy because of a foil, helium-filled baby shark. Can you please assume positive intent? There’s no way I would intentionally damage your belongings. Ever. I’m not vindictive. I’m not spiteful. I can be low-level petty, but not in a malicious way, and not with you. Okay?”
“Okay, I promise. I’m just so grateful for you giving me a chance. I love you so much.”
I look at him and his gorgeous blue eyes. He smiles at me hesitantly. God, that smile.
“I love you too, Timmy. I love you so much, too.”
I’m not sure whether I’ve made the right choice by staying. But as Timmy kisses the top of my head and offers me the spoon again, I feel the tiniest spark of hope.
Maybe, just maybe, that was a one-off explosion, and things will be better from here.
89
NOXIOUS & OBNOXIOUS
It’s quiet in Matty’s apartment, the hum of the air conditioning filling the space. For once, Matty isn’t playing YouTube videos or movies at top volume.
Timmy and I are sitting on the mattress in the bedroom, googling what movie to watch next.
Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door—sharp and deliberate, echoing through the room like a subtle warning.
Matty’s footsteps thud from the living room to the bedroom, where he glances in at Timmy, a silent exchange passing between them, quick and intentional. Without saying much, Timmy rises from the mattress and gives me a quick, almost absent, smile. “We’ll be back in a few, babe,” he says, as if to downplay the sudden shift in energy. “Just gotta meet someone real quick. Be right back.”
“Wha—.” I go to ask who it is, but it’s too late. Timmy and Matty have both left the room and slipped out the front door, headed out into the night.