Page 51 of The Art of Drowning

“It doesn’t feel real,” I said, still clinging to him. “How did you even find me?”

I pulled back and stared at Damien. “Did you ask my parents?”

“No, I stalked you on social media. On which you should really be more careful, by the way. There’s a lot of weirdos out there.”

I glared at him, sort of. Well, I tried to glare at him, but it was hard when I was impossibly happy to see him.

“Are you going to invite me in?” Damien held me tight.

“I thought you wanted me to go for a walk?”

“I said that because I wanted you to come outside so I wouldn’t freak you out by knocking on your door in the middle of the night.”

Callum laughed and tugged me toward the door. “You’re so weird.”

“It’s worked for me so far.”

My house was on the small side, but I loved it and thought it was homey. The front door opened into the living room, but there was a half wall separating the entrance from the main living space. A coat closet sat opposite. And on the half wall sat my fluffy, black, kind of ugly cat. His bottom fangs stuck out and his nose was a little pushed in. His meow was hoarse, like he’d smoked two packs a day all his life.

“That’s Crudinski.”

“That’s an appropriate name.” Damien almost reached for him, but stopped. “If I try to pet him, will he tear my skin off?”

“Crud is a gentleman. Aren’t you, my sweet cruddy kitty?” I cooed at Crudinski, petting him with one hand. He leaned into my touch, and I thought how sad was it that I wished Damien would lean into my touch like that.

Tentatively Damien reached out again and Crudinski stopped soaking up all of my attention long enough to give him a quick sniff before determining that he wasn’t worth sniffing a second time. He turned back to me and headbutted my hand, demanding more petting.

“Back off, kitty cat. You get his attention all the time,” Damien teased the cat, gently stroking his fur even though Crud was pretending he didn’t exist. I continued to scratch Crudinski under the chin and, at one point, Crudinski turned his head and looked at Damien as if to gloat about how easily he stole my focus.

Damien didn’t mind the lack of affection from Crudinski. He just smiled and continued to gently pet him, and I realized with horror that I was jealous of my cat.

“I always knew you were a cat person.” Damien toed out of his shoes and Crudinski decided then that he’d had enough affection and jumped down.

“That’s funny, because I always knew you were a pet rock person,” I teased, and Damien’s easy laughter took a sledgehammer to my chest.

Fuck. I’d missed him so much that the concept of missing him had become inadequate. To say I missed him was like saying the universe was big. Both statements were true but woefully understated.

I cleared my throat. “Did you want the grand tour?”

“Sure.”

A moment of awkwardness hung between us and then I motioned to the side. “That’s the living room.”

Damien snorted but didn’t otherwise mock me for being awkward as hell and acting like I’d never had a guest before.

Damien followed me into the house, past the couch to where the small space branched off. A kitchen on one side, and a hallway that led to the bedrooms. “The kitchen is through there. There’s a door to get to the back yard.”

“Do you have a pool?”

I caught his gaze and answered with a half smile. “Sorry, no pool. But I do have a hammock, a barbeque, and a small gas fire pit.”

“Sounds nice.”

I stood rooted to the floor, suddenly shy. Uncertainty twisted in my chest. What was he even doing here? And why wasn’t I upset that he’d basically stalked me and found out where I lived? That was a red flag, right? Normal people shouldn’t be low-key turned on that their ex stalked them to their house.

“It is.” I had to stop and clear my throat as a sudden bout of nerves washed through me. “Nice, I mean. But not as nice as my bedroom.” I motioned to the door at the end of the hallway.

“If your bedroom wasn’t as nice as a back yard, I’d worry about your living conditions.”