“Where exactly are we going?”
He snorted. “My place.”
I should have figured as much. “Is it that same shitty-ass apartment you had straight out of high school?”
“And if it is?”
I nuzzled softly into his back. “Just curious, is all. Nothing wrong with it one bit.”
The instant we parked in front of that apartment building, it was as if I had never left. Even the outside of it looked the same, with the same crooked shutters surrounding the same cracked windows with the same dirty white, stucco exterior and the same rickety, creaking wooden steps.
And when we finally found our way inside the apartment, I was shocked to find that it looked exactly like my condo.
No pictures on the walls. No decorations of any sort. Hell, there was barely any furniture. I didn’t see a kitchen table or bar stools bucked up to the countertop. Where a couch should have been was a desk setup with his multiple monitors hooked up and running.
It took me a second to take it all in, because it looked like the damn thing had been frozen in amber all this time.
“You know, I’ve only been in my place six months,” I said as I turned to face him, “so what’s your excuse?”
He walked over and reached for my bag, slipping it out of my grasp. “Since joining up with the Steel Scorpions, I mainly stay at my room in the clubhouse.”
“Ah, so this is the getaway place when you get tired of all the testosterone.”
He winked. “Exactly. But it’s getting a bit quieter now that most of the guys have shacked up with their women. I don’t stay here nearly as much as I used to.”
“Yeah, looks well-worn,” I said with a twinge of sarcasm.
“Wanna come see your room?” he asked.
“Let me guess,” I said as I caught up with him, “an air mattress just for me.”
He pushed a door open to our left. “No, I’ve got you set up with something a bit nicer.”
And when I laid eyes on that motherfucking futon…
“You kept this thing!?” I exclaimed.
He set my bag inside the door. “How the hell could I get rid of it?”
I collapsed onto the plush mattress. “Ugh, it feels just like I remember.”
He leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. “And it’ll start killing your back in two days’ time.”
I pushed myself up. “We should probably talk about things now, yeah?”
He sighed heavily. “Yeah, we should.”
I watched as he came and sat down beside me, just like old times. That futon had been in his parent’s basement, and I couldn’t even begin to count the number of laughs, tears, arguments, hugs, and movie nights that piece of furniture had seen.
He leaned back onto his elbows, propping himself up the way he always did. And as my hand held my head up, I turned to face him as I waited for his questions.
“Are you sure there’s no other way we can accomplish this with Blake?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I mean, he’s already seen us together.”
“It’s just that things aren’t safe right now, for either of us.”
My brow furrowed softly. “What does that mean?”
