And because I’m a sadist, I texted him on the way home. I kept it light, but of course, we can read each other like a book now, so it was heavy with everything I wasn’t saying.
Thank you for the bonus.Read:I miss you.
Thank you for helping me sleep.Read:I miss you too.
You heading for a surf to celebrate?Read:Can’t we just, you know, fuck around?
Heading to the office. Need to play catch-up.Read:I’m sorry. I can’t do that with you anymore.
Oh, you working on getting a murdering bitch off on a technicality?Read:Nothing has to change.
Lol. Something like that.Read:Everything’s changed.
Have fun.Read:Damn.
Three dots appear. Then they disappear.
My finger hovers over his contact name for a moment; I’mthiscloseto just calling him. But to do what, exactly? Beg him to keep sleeping with me with no strings attached? He wants me and he loves me. He’s right. Everything has changed. And that is the nail in the coffin of my conversations with Xander.
“Fuck!” I shout into the darkness.
“Ash?” I freeze at the sound of my name coming from the other side of the door. I haven’t moved since I got home. I haven’t even turned on the light. “You in there?” It’s Em.
“No,” I say, half-heartedly. I don’t want to deal with the aftermath of Xander with the human embodiment of love.
“I have weed and Ben & Jerry’s,” she says, and it’s not lost on me that she is throwing back to the last time I walked away from Xander, eleven years ago. Reminding me she’s always been there. Through it all.
I sigh, reaching up to the doorknob and turning it without actually getting up off the floor. The door swings open and Em stands in front of me.
She looks down at me with a sweet smile, and without a witty remark about me sitting on the floor of my apartment in the dark. I love her. Why is it so easy for me to say it to her? Because she’s family.
Then she reaches her hand out for me, and I take it, hoisting myself off the floor.
I turn the light on and Em walks past me, making a beeline straight for the kitchen, rattling in the cutlery draw for two spoons.
I head straight for the couch. A moment later she sits next to me, pulling out a cute pink-and-orange tin with the wordHouseplantembossed on it.
“You got Seth Rogen’s weed?” I say, surprised. “Damn, you fancy.”
“We’ve come a long way from our broke university days,” Em says, opening the one called Pancake Ice. She already pre-rolled a joint.
“You mean you didn’t have to go into Bong Jovi’s dank dorm room for a baggy?”
“Free delivery,” Em says, handing it to me. “Times have changed.”
Nothing has to change.
Everything’s changed.
I bring the joint to my lips while Em flicks the lighter, and I cough on the inhale like a fucking amateur.
I look over at Em, who holds my gaze a moment before we burst out laughing. Tears slip down my face and I convince myself it’s because of the THC. But I’m not so sure.
“I love you,” I say to Em as she takes a hit. She’s much more badass than me, holding her own.
“I love you too,” she says, turning on the TV. “You know, you could marry me, take my surname, and change the prophecy.” She navigates to Netflix to findCriminal Minds, and we’re greeted with the biggest jump scare of our lives: my mother’s face. Her show is getting the promotional push thanks to a “Five Year Reunion” special attached to it.
We both scream. And then fall into fits of laughing again.
