-What am I gonna do with you?
I could think of a lot of things I wanted Lyra to do to me, but I wasn’t sure a text thread was the best place to list them…not if I had any shot of them actually happening. But good lord, I wanted to do all kinds of things to Lyra Castillo. Things that would make her Jane Austen characters have a holy heart attack.
Eat your heart out, Jane.
-So when are we going shopping for decorations?
-Oh, you’re coming with me?
-Is that a problem?
-No, of course not. But I get final say. Deal?
-Ugh, fine.
-And you’re not allowed to open your wallet. Like we agreed, decorations are on me.
-We’ll see about that. ;)
-What’s for dinner tonight? Let me guess….Chinese?
Lyra was well versed in my nightly takeout. And she had a knack for guessing what I would be eating each night. It was like she was keeping a tally or something.
-How did you know? Are you stalking me or something?
-LOL You wish!
-Indeed.
She started typing and then stopped. I loved when I got Lyra tongue tied; it didn’t happen often, as her sharp wit was usually quicker than my own, but every once in a while I got her. And with one word, I did exactly that. Grabbing my chopsticks, I popped open my Peking duck and dropped a piece of juicy meat into my mouth, all too proud of myself. After I’d eaten a few more bites of my dinner, Lyra finally responded, but she avoided my stalking topic.
-So when do you want to shop for decorations? We have about two weeks until the party, should probably go soon…
-Tomorrow night? We could grab dinner beforehand, something easy.
-Chinese? ;)
-I mean, I don’t mind. I could eat it 7 days a week.
-Really? I need variety.
-I’m a simple man, Lyra. What can I say?
-You’re definitely simple in the head.
-Hey! I take offense to that!
-Good, that’s what I was going for! I’m off work at 5:00, want to meet somewhere near the party supply place?
-I can come by and get you…if that’s okay.
There was another pause as I’m sure Lyra was contemplating whether she wanted to invite me to her apartment. I waited on bated breath this time, clutching the phone and staring at the screen as I waited for her response. Once she answered, I realized I’d literally been holding my breath.
You’re so fucked, man.
-That works. I’ll text my address.
-Cool, see you around 6:30?
-Can’t wait. :)
Neither can I, Khaleesi. Neither can I.
After tossing my phone on the couch, I grabbed the carton of pork fried rice and started gobbling it down. The sweet-and-salty combination was hitting the spot as I juggled the rice and the duck. When I finally grabbed an egg roll to finish the meal, there was a knock at the door. Surprised, I jumped to my feet and looked through the peephole.
Trupti.
Shit.
“Dev, I can see your feet, okay? Just open the door.”
With a resigned sigh, I opened it, bracing myself for a conversation with Trupti after almost five surprisingly easy weeks without her. I’d always imagined that if we ever broke up again, it would destroy me. But that wasn’t the case. Life was funny sometimes.
The door felt heavier than it had just an hour prior. Trupti offered me a curt smile, and she looked like absolute hell. Her hair was disheveled and frizzy and her makeup was smeared, like she’d been crying.
“Dude, are you okay?”
“Dude?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I know we’re not dating anymore, but really?”
“Sorry, I just—come in, come in.”
“Thanks,” she said under her breath. “I’ve come for my stuff.”
“What stuff?” I asked, genuinely confused, as I didn’t remember her leaving things at my place. My housekeeper, Inga, would have made a pile of her things as she usually did each week.
Inga never cared for Trupti. I should have realized that was a major red flag. Inga had a heart of freaking gold. She was the kind of lady who didn’t speak poorly about anyone. But she made her feelings on Trupti very clear when she made those weekly piles.
Get the bitch out.
I had to suppress a laugh as Trupti answered my question. The look of uncertainty on her face was confusing. “A few T-shirts, I think…and my earbuds.”
“T-shirts? Trup, you usually slept in my shirts when you stayed over. I don’t have any of your clothes.”
And if I did, they’d be in a pile on the bench at the end of my bed. You know that.
She didn’t look surprised. She wiped at the black smeared makeup on her face and ran her hands through her chaotic nest of hair. I started to worry that something terrible had happened to her. She really looked awful.
“What’s really going on with you? Are you hurt or something?”
“I haven’t slept well, okay? Not in a while.”
“Do you want to sit down?”
I wasn’t a complete dick. Trupti was someone I cared deeply for, and I probably always would. Just because I didn’t want to date her anymore didn’t change that. I had to make sure she was all right.
“Sure,” she said, taking a seat on one of my barstools at the breakfast bar. “The place looks good,” she said, playing with the threads of the blue placemat in front of her.
“Thanks,” I said pensively. “You know I can’t take credit for that. Something to drink? Water?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
I grabbed a glass and filled it at the fridge before passing it to her. “Are you sure nothing happened to you? You can tell me.”
“Nothing happened.” Her expression softened. “You always look out for me, don’t you?”
“I mean, I try,” I said, standing next to the counter, not in any rush to sit next to her. I had to know what she wanted, why she was sitting in my apartment after weeks of no contact.
“So… Are you seeing anyone?” she asked, and from the cracking in her voice, I knew she was trying to sound casual, but she was failing.
“Anyone?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Her? Are you seeing her?”
“Trup, I didn’t end things because of Lyra. And no, we aren’t seeing each other. I mean, we’re spending time together, but we’re just friends.”
That was a half-truth.
“So you’re back on Tinder then?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“What do you mean?”
“When we first broke up, you joined Tinder. And you stayed on it until we were together again…”
“What’s the point?”
Trupti glared at me, expecting me to understand where she was going with her train of thought. And I did, but I had no intention of stepping into the trap she’d created. She was trying to start shit about Lyra, and I wasn’t having it.
Yes, I’m not on Tinder because I have feelings for someone.
My phone buzzed and I grimaced.
“We’re having a conversation, Dev.”
“It could be work; you know I’m basically on call like always.”
Sure enough, it was work. An emergency in Chicago. “I have to take this. Give me a minute.”
I walked into my bedroom and walked the associate through the system failure, doing my best to ignore the fact that my ex-girlfriend would be waiting for me in my kitchen when I returned. For a moment I contemplated sneaking out the window…