“Lane, why—”
“Just stop.”
I know what he’s going to say, and no: the spare room still isn’t spare.
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Just don’t come crying to me about it later.”
“This isn’t a big deal, Cart. Honest. Nothing’s going to change.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.” He drains his beer and scoops up the notes. “I’ll swing by at the end of the week.”
“Yeah.”
“Catch you later, Lois.” He glances at me knowingly. “How about we throw you a little party to celebrate the good news?”
She gives him a small smile. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, Carter.”
As he leaves, I catch him snickering to himself. He knows that deep down, I’m crushed—and I can hardly believe it myself. This is ridiculous. Living alone has always been my thing, so why is my stomach dropping as I watch her fold away her T-shirts? She could at leastpretendto be a little sad, couldn’t she? I suddenly want to kick her bag over.
“I’m going to my room,” I growl.
I can’t handle this anymore.
I spend two hours doomscrolling, desperately trying to distract myself—but the stupid videos aren’t working. I fall back onto my bed. I wanted her to say that she hates her new room. That she doesn’t want to go, that she wants to stay right here. But she hasn’t said she’s sad to be leaving. Not once. And now I’m stuck wondering whether I was the only one who actually enjoyed living together. And everything that came with it.
26LOIS
Lane has been holed away in his room for hours, as cold as ever—and it’s driving me nuts. I tried my best to seem excited about today’s news, digging deep, tapping into my inner actor. I did my best to make it sound like a cramped dorm room was definitely on my bucket list. I finally have a place to call home. I should be psyched—so why does it feel like I’m about to explode?
“Can I come in?” I whisper through the half-open door.
“Sure.”
I tiptoe across the room and climb onto the bed, swallowing hard, tapping the hand slung over his face. He’s straight-up pretending I don’t even exist, so I yank on his wrist for a better look.
“What?!”
“I need pizza.” I pout.
“Okay? You know where the leaflets are.”
“I meanhomemadepizza. We’ve got the stuff to make it…”
“You’re not going to believe this, Lois—but there are actually people who make pizza for a living. They even deliver.”
“Oh, come on! It’s our last night.” I force myself to smile. “Pretty please?”
“Are you saying we’re never hanging out here again?”
“Sure we will! But it won’t be the same.”
“Yeah.” He nods thoughtfully. “I won’t wake up to you snoring on my couch the next morning.”
“Exactly.”
Silence hovers between us. Lane is on edge—I can sense it. Maybe he doesn’t actually want me to move out, after all. He jumps to his feet and dashes around the bed, jabbing a finger in my direction.
“You’re on dish duty.”
