“I lived five blocks away.” He stated it matter-of-factly, not a hint of longing in his voice. Spencer had more longing in his voice than he did. He’d never been to California, but he thought about it plenty during the nine months of dreary, cold, utterly craptastic Chicago weather.
“So why are you here? You realize that Chicago has winter.”
“What’s this winter you speak of?”
“Hell frozen over.”
Spencer’s arms strained against the weight of the boxes. He was battling gravity, and the glass objects of Patrick’s were fast becoming his mortal enemy.
“You okay?” Patrick asked.
“Yeah,” Spencer - or more accurately, his male pride - responded.
His heart lifted when he felt a familiar warped groove in the top flight of stairs. A few more steps and he placed the boxes at Patrick’s door.
“Thank you so much. You are a rock star.”
“Just some good old-fashioned Midwest hospitality.” Spencer smiled as he caught his breath. “So seriously, what brought you here?”
“I went to DePaul, graduated three years ago and moved out to L.A. with some friends. But it...it wasn’t for me.” He stopped himself, and his face clouded over for a moment before returning to his sweet smile. “I missed Chicago.”
“You say that now, but wait until January.”
“I’d rather have some January than this all year round.” He flapped his hand at the absolutely gorgeous, sun-kissed sky out the window.
Spencer felt his jaw drop to the front stoop. “Are you serious? It’s perfect out.”
“Imagine having this weather every single day of your life, year after year.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is! It’s monotonous. It was like living inGroundhog Day.”
Spencer scoffed. IfGroundhog Daytook place at the freaking beach.
Patrick sifted through his ring of keys until he found his apartment key. “I need seasons. I need the change. You need the bad weather to appreciate the good.”
“That’s up for debate.”
Patrick opened his door. The apartment was a mirror image of Spencer’s railway plan: an open living room leading to a narrow hallway with bathrooms and a bedroom and finally a kitchen at the end. Boxes were sprawled across the floor with a few basic furniture items sticking out amid the mess. It had the mismatched look of Craigslist finds and Ikea. Spencer did not miss moving. When he moved in two years ago, it rained like hell, and he fought against slippery boxes and hard pinches of rain hitting his face. He planned to stay in his apartment for as long as possible.
Spencer placed the two boxes he carried on the floor just under the window A/C unit, which was going on full blast. He couldn’t believe he was inside the apartment of someone who moved to Chicagofor the weather.
“Chicago doesn’t have seasons, you know,” Spencer said. “It’s just chilly, cold, really cold, then hot.”
“Would you really want to celebrate Christmas in seventy-degree weather with full sun?”
It rarely snowed in Chicago at Christmastime. It was mostly cold and windy, like Pottersville inIt’s a Wonderful Life, so Spencer seesawed his head.
Patrick disappeared into the kitchen. Spencer noticed the two boxes he hauled in were labeled seasonal. Odd for someone who came from a place with no seasons. He returned moments later carrying two glasses of water.
“Well, you have a few months until Christmas.” Spencer gulped down his drink in two seconds flat.
“It wasn’t Christmas I missed,” Patrick said, sitting on his couch and taking a sip of water. “It was fall.”
“Fall? Is it even a real season?”
Patrick seemed to take offense to that. “That’s what I used to think, too. I didn’t realize how much I missed fall until it was gone. There were all these little things that hit me, that I didn’t even think about. The changing of the leaves. The back-to-school feeling. I haven’t experienced fall in three years, except via lifestyle Instagrammers.”
