“Haven High School Wrestling Championship?” I looked from the piece of clothing to her with raised eyebrows.
“It was Paul’s,” she admitted.
“And you still have it?”
“It’s the perfect oversize fit. Plus, he took my favorite sweatshirt and loaned it to his friend, who claimed to have lost it.” She rolled her eyes and put air quotes aroundlost it.“It was tie-dye and soft, and I miss it every day. So, it’s only fair I have this.”
Yeah, I didn’t love that. Half-jokingly, I folded up Paul’s sweatshirt and set it back in the top drawer.
“Hey.” She laughed and tried to snatch it back.
“I don’t think you need that one,” I said, still trying to stuff it back into the drawer.
“But it’s comfortable,” she argued.
“I’ll get you a new sweatshirt.”
“But old ones are the best. They need to have that worn-in feel.”
“You can have one of mine.”
“Seriously?” She paused, considering it.
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
“Any one you want.”
“What if it’s your favorite?” she asked, smirking up at me.
“I’d rather hand over every sweatshirt I’ve ever owned than see you walking around my living room in that.”
She scrunched her nose and shook her head, not fighting me when I pressed the piece of clothing back into the drawer before sliding it closed.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” she teased through a smile before grabbing a few more items.
I didn’t bother correcting her. Iwasa little jealous. Not in that over-the-top, possessive way, but in the way where the only clothes I wanted to see Hazel in were my own. This was the honeymoon phase. The couldn’t-get-enough-of-each-other stage. Every second felt like something to soak in, not waste thinking about her stupid ex. Immature? Probably. But I hadn’t felt like this in a long time.
Movement outside the window caught my eye. An older lady slid into the driver’s side of a car parked across the street. I could add the fact that this apartment had no secure parking garage to my list of grievances with the place. I didnotwant Hazel living here, even after all this was over.
“Is that…” I raced to the window. Hazel followed me, banging her hip on her bedframe in her haste.
“Shit,” she muttered, rubbing her side. “What is it?”
“Mrs. Edenbury.” I pointed.
Her eyes scanned until they landed on the car. “Yep, that’s her car. Must be off to church.”
“Hurry, let’s see if we can catch her.”
I was already halfway out of Hazel’s apartment, moving fast, but by the time I’d flung open the door to the courtyard, it was too late. The white sedan had already pulled away from the curb, taillights glowing as it disappeared down the street. I had no chance of catching up.
Back in the hallway Hazel wore an amused expression.
“What exactly was your plan? Ask her outright if she has Vermont?”
I dragged a hand over my face, pulse racing. I didn’t know what my plan had been exactly, but I was starting to get desperate.
