I got out of the shower, pink like my father was when he’d stood under the water too long, and uncapped my Sharpie.
I thought about writing, Face your fears or they will climb over your back. I thought about writing a lot of things. But none of them would be enough. I couldn’t think of anything that would be.
Words were sliding away. The words I’d held onto, pulled myself up by, guarded myself with. They were slipping through a thousand cracks I hadn’t known were there, gone before I could reach out and grab a single one.
I walked around my white box of an apartment, turning off the lights in the hope of a few hours’ rest before dawn, and spotted the purple monster Felix had given me at Coney Island. It was a goofy-looking thing, black felt eyes slightly askew, horns pointing in different directions.
“You look ridiculous,” I told it. It just stared at me, soft and fuzzy, with open arms.
I grabbed it and climbed into bed naked, pulling the sheets up and trying to let sleep find me. A rustling, scraping sound came from the alley, and I clutched the purple monster, its synthetic fur tickling my nose, and let out a shuddering sigh.
Chapter 12
Felix
I hated how early I had to get up to work the opening shift, but it was peaceful to be at the store in the dark, before the city was awake. Opening prep work was mindless and soothing, and the smell of bagels and bread baking and coffee perking was nice for the first hour.
I liked watching the day begin through the front glass windows: the first trickle of movement, runners and dog walkers, then professionals in suits and the occasional early-rising student. The magic of it wore off as the sun rose, but for a while it felt like I was getting a glimpse of a secret life.
As I loaded new filters into the huge coffee machines, Kiara pulled a candle out of her purse and lit it, sticking it in the hole of a blueberry bagel—our worst seller—and held it out to Stephen.
“Happy last day,” she said.
“Aw, thanks, you shouldn’t’ve.” Stephen grinned and took the bagel. He tore off a chunk and chewed, grin fading. “You actually shouldn’t have,” he said with his mouth full. “These are awful.”
“Wait, it’s your last day?”
Stephen raked a hand through his spiky blond hair. He’d been working here for about a year, which was longer than most people lasted—though nowhere near as long as me—and I’d gotten used to his low-key attitude and ability to keep a perfectly straight face no matter what ridiculous requests the customers made.
“Yeah. I got into grad school, so I don’t have to do this anymore.”
“Oh, wow. What do you study?”
“Molecular biology.” He grinned, a goofy, satisfied grin. “I love it. I’m really excited.”
“That’s awesome, man, congrats.”
I went back to making coffee and looked outside for the tiny miracles that early-morning New York sometimes bestowed, but I didn’t see any. By the time the sun had risen, the smell of yeast and old coffee grounds turned my stomach, and Stephen’s words echoed persistently in my head: I don’t have to do this anymore.
This job had been a pit stop before he started his real life. But for me, it wasn’t a rung on the ladder that led to anything else, because I didn’t have anything I was working toward. My sister was off living her dream. My boyfriend spent most of his time helping other people.
What the hell did I do?
* * *
—
After work, I headed over to Dane’s, exhausted and moody.
We’d been missing each other a lot in the week since I’d shown up at Dane’s and he hadn’t come home. Or…it felt more like I’d been missing him. Sponsee crises, bar crises, gym crises. Every sector of Dane’s life seemed to be imploding lately. What on earth could constitute a gym crisis? I couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been dodging me.
Today, though, we had plans. He’d texted last night and we’d said we’d spend the whole afternoon together. I couldn’t wait. All I wanted was to get my mind off of everything except how good it felt to feel his skin against mine, his arms around me. A home-cooked dinner wouldn’t hurt, either.
When Dane opened the door, he looked as exhausted as I felt. He smiled when he saw me, though, and his growled, “Hey, sweetheart,” made me throw myself into his arms.
He smelled so good and felt so good and tasted so good. I tugged him down and kissed him, wrapping my arms around his neck so he had to hoist me up for better access. I wrapped my legs around his hips and kissed him harder.
“Whoa, whoa,” he said, reaching a hand out to close the door. His smile was gone. “Hey. You okay?”