Not.
*Gif of a baby crying*
When will you be home?
The wine in your fridge tastes off.
I’m so close to my apartment on the riverbank I don’t bother grabbing my headphones, but I do pause when I realise I don’t keep any wine in my fridge. Is Phoenix in my apartment? Istare down at my phone again as two more text messages come through seconds apart.
Dramalama:Omg. The body in the library is just starting on telly, come home alreadddddddyyyyyyyy.
Are the open packet of biscuits in your cupboard vegan?
Sighing, I continue down the street in silence, tapping a quick reply before dumping my phone back into my tote. Retrieving my keys, I use the fob to let myself into the building and start ascending the stairs. Each floor has long windows which let in light from the city across the river, creating pools of silver onto the carpet running to my front door. The landlord of the building allowed me to change it—as long as it fit with the building's aesthetic, so a cosy sage green door with my apartment number greets me.
As predicted, I turn the handle and find it unlocked, spotting a human form on my corner sofa in the living room.
Pale blonde hair falls into his eyes, longer than when I last saw him and Phoenix flicks it off his face. Wearing a black loose shirt, cream shorts and layered jewellery, his rings catch in the lampshades stream, as he fiddles with the television remote. His skin has a sun kissed glow and he looks incredibly healthy—healthier than I’ve ever seen him, if I’m being completely honest. He’s handsome in an elite way, but fits right in with my snuggly chic home. Everything in here is for comfort, whether I’m writing or reading.
“Oh thank god you're back, Miss Marple is still at the hotel.” He throws the remote onto the cushion, lifting his phone next to show me the screen with our text exchange on it. “Thisis a horridway to text back to your best friend. I've been waiting here for ages.”
Smirking, I shrug off my tote bag and dump my keys onto the side table next to the door, closing it whilst I kick off my shoes. “Maybe said best friend shouldn’t break into apartments and root around in their fridge like a feral badger, or something.”
He tuts. “You barely have anything in there I can eat anyway. Also, don't forget up until a couple of months ago I also lived in this building—I still have keys!” shaking the phone at me again, he turns it to read my reply out loud. “I’ve been out with your sister. Stop being clingy. Do something useful for once and get the kettle on.”
I shrug. “How is any of that horrid?”
Phin sits up, swinging his long legs until his fuzzy socked feet–my bed socks–touch the floor. “You went out with Lily instead of asking me to do something! I'm majorly offended.”
“You're such a dramalama!”
“Am not! You didn't even invite me–me! I'm the life of the party.”
Rolling my eyes, I walk across the plush rug in the middle of my living room, passing my cramped nestles of house plants and the armchair which is my usual reading spot. The rooms are spacious enough, but with all the little nooks I made for reading, the entire place feels snug. Cosy; my sanctuary.
“Well it’s a good job you weren't with us then, because there was no party.” I don't tell him about trying to get into The Larks gig, which I'm surprised he wasn’t at anyway. Letting ourselves into each other's apartments isn't anything new, but Phin not being with his other friends when they're in the same city is unusual. Not that I'm complaining.
“You're twenty-six, you're going to die of boredom–"
He doesn't finish his sentence because I push my palm against his face, throwing myself down beside him on the sofa.Wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, I essentially turn myself into a straight jacket and attach myself to his side. Smushing my cheek against his, I let out a long exhale and finally the feeling of having a missing limb ends. Maybe I’m a succubus, lending energy from him to recharge my own batteries.
“Watch my nails! I just got them done today.” Stretching his arms out, he waggles his finger tips and golden glitter adorns both hands.
“Pretty. What's the occasion?” I ask, aware that I’ve been waiting any day now for either himself or his boyfriend Merle, to announce the grand opening of their new business venture. Nightingale Hotel,a countryside retreat with event spacing too. It's the reason he doesn't live in my building anymore, but it's only thirty minutes outside of York which makes the separation feel a little less brutal.
Meeting him may have been the best thing to happen to Phin, where he's an outgoing Ying, Merle is his steady, grounding Yang. He's a great friend, but it feels like months since we spent any quality time together, or that I didn't feel like the third wheel since my break up.
“I have a big surprise for you, but you need to get off me first.”
I snuggle closer to him, gripping tighter. “No. I need more physical contact. I feel like a starving newborn.”
Laughing he manages to wriggle his arms into the tickle spot under my armpits and I yelp, falling back into the corner of the sofa. “You call me feral? Here,” he digs into the back pocket of his shorts, bringing out a crimson envelope that has my name written in messy handwriting. “Before you object, know that it would mean the world to us if you came. It is our opening weekend for the hotel.”
I want to question what he means, but my mouth isn't quite working. Instead all I can do is stare at the envelope, thehandwriting may as well be written in blood. It burns into my system, panic flooding my body and Phin notices me locking up.
“Hey, hey, it's ok. It's just an invitation.”
Still eyeing it with suspicion, I slowly take it from his outstretched hand and decide ripping into the thing will be better than letting my worries fester. I'd know that unreadable cursive anywhere and even my comfort show playing in the background couldn't calm my nerves at receiving anything from my ex boyfriend. Phin and Lily’s older brother.
