I frown and straighten, folding my arms over my chest.
“Did you find a place to crash?” I ask again, pinning her down with my gaze.
“Not yet,” she mutters. “But I’m sure it’ll work out. Tomorrow I’m going back to see the secretary, and I plan on asking at the student council office, too.” She forces out a smile, digging her hands deeper into her kangaroo pocket. “I saw a motel down the road. That’ll do for now. Other than the shared showers and the receptionist who smells like piss, it looks great.”
“Want a beer?” The words come spilling out despite myself.
“I already had a few before I got here.”
“You drunk?”
“Not drunk enough.” She pouts.
“Come on, get in here! At this stage, I think it’s safe to say I’m not going to strangle, eviscerate, or cremate you, don’t you think?”
I open my door wide, and her uneasiness deepens.
“Grab yourself a beer and a shower, and I’ll drop you at your motel. Sound like a plan?”
She sighs and then steps into the apartment. “Just a shower, and I’ll hit the road.”
I watch as she dumps her shoulder bag on the couch armrest before perching on the edge, hands flat on her thighs as she gazes at the big painting above my sink. She’s as stiff as a board, and it’s like she’s trying to control her breathing so as not to move an inch.
“The bathroom is right at the end of the hall.” I yawn.
She scratches the side of her head. “I need something to change into.”
“Don’t move, I’ll go down to the car.”
“Just the blue bag will do. Don’t bother bringing it all up, it’ll only take me five minutes.”
I shake my head. By the time I get back, I can hear water running at the far end of the apartment. I dump her stuff outside the door and wait by the window, pressing my forehead against the glass. The street is silent, until a motorbike comes speeding past, setting the windowpane shaking in its frame. I grit my teeth and try to block out the memories that have surfaced with the noise. Pounding the wall next to me with a fist, I bring the half-empty bottle to my lips, desperate to wash away the thick clump I can feel sticking in my throat. I take the gulp too fast, and beer goes spilling down my front.
“Shit!” I jolt back.
My T-shirt is soaked. I slam the bottle down on the coffee table just as Heartbreak appears in front of me, hair piled up in a towering bun on the top of her head. Seeing her like this catches me off guard. Her skin looks less pale, but the shadows under her eyes are as dark as her hair. She’s practically sleep-walking—I’m sure I just saw her sway on her feet.
“Thanks for the shower, I needed that.” She tugs at her top. “I’m ready.”
She’s thrown that shapeless sweater back on over a pair of gray leggings that look just like the ones she was wearing earlier. I look down at my beer-drenched T-shirt.
“I need to change. If we run into any cops, they’ll throw me straight in the drunk tank, no questions asked.”
She runs a hand over the nape of her neck. “Okay.”
As I walk past her, she glances at my soaking clothes, wrinkling her nose and pulling a face.
“Let me get washed up and we’ll head out.”
I pull my T-shirt over my head, and she quickly turns away, walking toward the couch as she clears her throat. I trot down to the bathroom and strip off the rest of my clothes. The scalding water relaxes me, and I don’t want to stop. I treat myself to a few extra minutes and then force myself out of the steam, wrapping a towel around my hips before heading into my bedroom, where I change into track pants and a tank.
Back in the living room, I’m feeling like I’m done with this day.
I stride over to the side table and scoop up my keys. “Let’s go!”
Opening the front door, I stuff my phone into my pocket and look over my shoulder when I realize I can’t hear footsteps. If it weren’t for that blue bag still sitting smack-dab in the middle of my living room, I’d have sworn that Heartbreak had pulled her vanishing act again.
“Hello?”
