“I know, I know. But it wasn’t like I did it on purpose. It wasn’t like I woke up one day and thought, you know what, I’ll go on a shopping spree and charge it all to the Visa. I wasn’t in a good place, Reid. My grandma’s assisted living home was more than I could afford, but I wasn’t about to ask her to move. Her comfort was the most important thing. And it’s just myluck that as soon as the luckiest thing in the world happened to me, the unluckiest thing would too.”
“I get it,” I said, still mentally reeling about the credit carddebt, but biting my tongue. If she’d needed to do it, she’d needed to do it. Who the hell was I to judge? All I could do now was help her.
I could tell Hazel had had enough of the heavy talk, as she nestled back into the couch.
We managed to refocus on the movie, for about two minutes. Then Hazel went off about how ridiculously the main character was acting, and just like that, we were back to chatting.
We stuck to lighthearted stuff this time. We talked right through the rest of the film as we finished off an absurd amount of Chinese food. Joking about how unbelievable it was that the heroine gave the first guy a chance. Laughing at the terrible wigs. I even quoted a few of my favorite lines.
Eventually, Hazel’s breathing deepened, and a weight shifted onto my shoulder. She’d fallen asleep with her legs curled up at her side, leaning into me.
It was incredibly uncomfortable, yet I had absolutely no desire to move. My eyelids drooped with heaviness. I took off my glasses and set them on a coffee table, allowing myself to slowly drift off as the familiar movie played in the background. Hazel was cuddled into my side, warm and close, and I let sleep start to pull me under.
ELEVEN
Hazel
Reid had to be gone.There was no way he’d stuck around after last night.
I’d overshared, my apartment was a disaster, and to top it off, I’d fallen asleep on the couch, practically draped across his personal space. But when I opened my bedroom door, there he was, bent over in the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets like he belonged there.
“Oh, good morning. Where are your mugs?” he asked when he caught sight of me.
I flattened my hair, currently thrown half-up into a loose bun, my bangs squished flat against the sides of my forehead. He looked perfect, already changed and somehow polished despite the early hour.
“In there.” I pointed to the large black buffet underneath the window in the kitchen. Reid slid open one of the doors, then his eyebrows shot up and he looked over at me.
“No person would ever need to own this many mugs.” He picked up one at the front. It had a worn mountain range on it, with the words “Rise and Shine” along the bottom.
“We used to collect them,” I said, taking the hot pink mug he handed me before he closed the cabinet.
“Did you also collecteverythingelse?” he asked, gesturing to my apartment, basically bursting at the seams.
I just shrugged. “She loved a thrift store. I don’t want to get rid of any of it.”
His entire expression softened at that.
“I made coffee.” He pulled out the carafe, which was also basically an antique. I think my grandma bought it in the eighties, and somehow, it still worked. She always swore they used to build appliances better—sturdier and made to last. Unlike now, when every company just slapped together some cheap plastic and hoped you’d have to buy another one every other year.
“Do you need milk or anything?” he asked.
“I think I have some hazelnut creamer in the fridge.”
Reid filled up my mug and opened my refrigerator. He visibly cringed when he took in the sparse contents—half an onion on one shelf, and a door full of condiments.
He found the white bottle and set it on the counter. I added a splash before bringing my mug to my lips and taking an appreciative sip. The ordinariness of it all brought on a rush of nostalgia. Gran and I used to sit down with a cup of coffee together most mornings until I moved out at twenty-two. Even after that, we would meet for breakfast pretty frequently. Bad diner coffee was her favorite. “The burnter the better,” she’d always say.
“Look who responded.” Reid held out his phone. My heart hammered in my chest as I grabbed it.
The catfish profile. I’d almost forgotten.
“What did he say?” I asked, even as I scanned the messages between Paul and the fake account.
Paul: “Hey babe, glad you like what you see.”
Barf.
AngelineRox: blushing emoji. “Do you like what you see?”
