“Is that possible?” I ask, both impressed and terrified that this girl can likely figure it out if she had the resources.
Skylar gives me a wicked smile, which only frightens me more. “Maybe. I’ll report back one way or another.” She glances at my door. “Where’s Arush?”
I love how everyone misses him. Everyone asks about him. I hate it too because it hurts a little more every time.
“He went home.”
She frowns. “I thought this was his home.”
Great. Now I feel a well of emotion in my chest, threatening to drop like the rain. Where’s the rain to hide my tears, though?
I’m saved from answering more than a nod when there’s a knock on my door. I get to my feet and tap her hand on the wayby. “Don’t let your parents catch you up there. They’re convinced you can’t fly, and I’m not sure I want you to prove them wrong.”
Her big grin is accompanied by an eye roll. Typical teenager. I step inside, shutting the door behind me. I drop my shake on the counter on my way to open the door. One of the building workers is there with a dolly stacked high with boxes. Another joins him as the elevator opens, another box on a second dolly. This one is tall and narrow, like a huge tube.
“Good afternoon, Mr. White,” the man says. I think his name is Peter. “We have a large delivery for you.”
I frown. “I didn’t order any of this.”
“Your names are on them.”
Huh. Okay. I take a step back and allow them to bring the boxes in. They set them in the space between my living and dining areas. I thank them with a tray of cookies that I’d made yesterday to pass the time.
When they’re gone, I take a look at the box on top. The shipping label has my name and Arush’s name. A sight that makes my chest tight. Our names look good together.
I don’t allow myself to stare at that detail for too long. There are almost a dozen boxes here, and I have no idea what they are or where they came from. A company called Wyneart.
Perhaps unwise, but I grab the box opener from the kitchen drawer and carefully open the first box. There’s a plastic foam mat on the top to protect the contents. The contents are all wrapped in plastic compression bags, which means I still have no idea what I’m looking at except that they’re brightly colored… something.
Once more, I cut into one of the bags, carefully, so I don’t ruin whatever it is hiding inside. When it’s finally free and allowed to have some air breathed into it, I’m looking at a brightly colored throw pillow.
Then another. A third. A box holds beautifully embroidered teal placemats.
It takes me going through the third box of home décor to realize Arush took me up on my offer for him to decorate however he wanted. He ordered tons of stuff. I’m caught between wanting to box it all up and hide it in his room so I don’t have even more reminders he’s not here, and setting it all up just so I can feel closer.
In the end, I decide to set it up. Room by room, I place items where I think Arush meant for them to go. Including the new bedding that would only fit on my big bed.
The redecorating takes me several hours, so by the time I sit on the couch and log in to the game with my friends, I feel breathless and emotionally drained from picturing Arush beside me. Telling me what each item is and where it should go. Will he be pleased with where I put these things? Will he laugh and tell me that’s not how you use something?
“Hey,” Hilt says when I connect. “What’s up, Chicago?”
I give him a grunt in response.
“How’s Arush’s sister?” Keno asks.
I close my eyes. Did I check my phone maybe eighty times today to see if Arush responded? Yes. “She’s recovering. Slowly, as makes sense given the extensive injuries.”
“How’s Arush?” Lo asks.
“Quiet,” I admit. “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him much.”
Silence answers me, and I try not to think that maybe I’ve given myself away about how much that stings.
“How does that make you feel?” Etna asks.
I snort with laughter and shake my head. I mean to tell him it’s fine. We were only friends, right? We’d never agreed on more.
Which is all a lie. We might not have been straightforward with blatant words of commitment, but we sure as fuck were together.
