“I stayed over last night, and he was all sweet and perfect, making dinner andeverything,” she continues, her voice smaller now. “But it's been three hours since I left, and nothing.” She bites her lip. “You don't think he's ghosting me, do you?”
“Of course not. He’s probably not even checked his phone yet.” I squeeze her hand.
“Maybe I should text him again?” she asks, already typing.
I gently lower her phone. “Give it until this afternoon. Trust me, nothing says 'desperate' like double-texting a guy who's probably just in class.”
“Says the girl whose last relationship lasted what, three weeks?”
“Four,” I correct her, “and it was a mutual decision to end things. And it was never a relationship anyway.”
Lacey gives me a knowing look. “You mean you got scared the second he left a toothbrush at your place.”
“It wasn't a toothbrush. It was a complete overnight bag. Withslippers, Lace. The man brought monogrammed slippers to my apartment after two dates.”
She laughs. “That’s sort of cute! He wanted to be cozy. Besides, this isn’t about slippers is it. Not everyone who wants to stick around is trying to suffocate you, Del.”
I shift uncomfortably.
The monogrammed slippers weren't just slippers—they were a claim. A way of saying “I'm planning to be here.” My tiny apartment is mine—the only space I've ever had that's truly mine, where no one can disappear or change the rules overnight. Every personal item someone leaves feels like they're taking away a piece of that control, like they're promising something I don't believe they'll keep.
When you grow up never knowing if your mom will come home tonight, or if her new boyfriend will suddenly decide the rules of the house have changed, you learn that permanence is just an illusion people use to later hurt you. The moment you start depending on someone being there is exactly when they vanish, leaving nothing but empty drawers and broken promises.
That's why I never leave so much as a hair tie at a guy's place. Why my bathroom cabinet has no space for anyone else's toothbrush. Why I never stay for breakfast. It's not cold—it's self-preservation. The only person I can absolutely count on is me, so I don't create openings for disappointment.
“This isn't about me. We're discussing your Carter situation.” I deflect.
“I really like him,” she says softly. “And not in my usual way. He's... different.”
“You always say that.”
“I mean it this time.” Her eyes have that dreamy quality I've seen too many times before. “He talks about the future. About us. He made me a playlist with songs that remind him of me.”
For a brief moment, I feel a twinge of something—not quite envy, but a flicker of curiosity about what it would be like to be that open. To want someone to stay so badly thatthe possibility of them leaving doesn't immediately send you building escape routes.
“I just want to find someone who looks at me the way you look at your building blueprints,” Lacey continues, unaware of my internal monologue. “Is that too much to ask?”
I nudge her gently. “If he's smart, he'll text you by the end of the day. And if he doesn't, I'll help you egg his apartment. Or I could accidentally run into him at the library and demonstrate that architecture students know exactly where to hide a body in a building.”
She laughs. “Your solutions to relationship problems are always property damage or bodily harm.”
“They're effective solutions.”
“You know, someday you're going to ask me what to do with boy problems.” She pokes my arm. “And I can't wait to be there for you.'“
“Don't hold your breath,” I mutter. Sometimes, in moments I'd never admit to anyone, I wonder what it would be like to see the world through Lacey's eyes.
“And that's why you're my best friend.” She hugs me quickly. “You're like a grumpy guardian angel who threatens bodily harm to anyone who hurts me.”
“Someone has to,” I say, patting her back awkwardly.
“See? Terrifying on the outside, marshmallow on the inside.”
“Slander. I’m terrifying and cool.”
“My marshmallow.” She grins, and I growl at her. Then she glances toward the Engineering Building. “Now go crush this meeting. I want every detail when you're done.”
“Don't you have class at two?”
