* * *
I dropMel off at her place and drive the mile down the road to the Poplar Lane Apartments. It’s the place I call home. After living with roommates for all of undergrad, I appreciated the housing allowance Bainbridge offered and was glad to get my own place. It’s a decent size with two bedrooms. A couple months ago, when Willa and her baby girl needed a place to stay, I was happy to offer them the extra room. They stayed for a few months, and even now that they’ve moved in with Willa’s boyfriend and baby daddy, I keep in touch and help out with Rose whenever I can.
But boy, my house is lonely now.
It’s just so damn quiet. I guess it’s weird, complaining about a noiseless apartment, but I grew used to sharing my living space with Willa and Rose. And if I’m being completely honest, I got used to being needed. It’s part of who I am. I live to help, and I love my friends. If there’s a need, I’ll fill it. It’s how I ended up managing Drip after working there for only a year. I was always happy to cover a shift or fill in when it was needed. When Dave, the owner, opened a branch downtown, I stepped up as manager. The money’s great, and I don’t mind the hours or the responsibility. I like being busy. It keeps my mind off the fact that I’m twenty-four and very single.
And hookups aren’t my style. Yeah, they were fine in undergrad when I was exploring, and everything was new, and the walls weren’t paper thin. But now? The club scene just isn’t for me. Don’t get me wrong, Mel and I go dancing any time we can, but I’m not down for random hookups. I’m built for relationships. I guess I’m like my parents and my brother PJ that way. They mated for life. That’s what I want. But with my busy schedule, I think it’s going to be a while until happily-ever-after comes knocking at my door.
For now, I’ve got Drip, and my job as a TA in the Psych Department. I’m on track to continue my doctoral studies here at Bainbridge, and I’ve got my ever-expanding circle of friends.
And that’s enough, most days.
I’ve got to do something to keep myself busy tonight. It’s only 8 p.m., so I brew a cup of tea, and check my messages. I get a pic of mom and dad. They’re at the PA Farm Show, living their best lives and drinking milkshakes. I can’t lie. I’m a little jealous. I could call PJ, but he and Katie are probably putting the kids to bed. Same with Willa. I pull up Luke’s number and send a quick text to my little brother.
Ian:How’s it going?
Luke: Fucking awesome.
To prove his point, he sends a selfie. He’s sandwiched between two pretty girls on a crappy-looking couch. Luke doesn’t go to college, but he does party there, so I take the hint and text back.
Ian: Have fun.
Luke: Dude, that’s what I’m doing.
Since I’ve struck out with my social circle, I turn to social media. I also have a bit of a following on QikTok. When it was just dance trends, I could take it or leave it. But now the app has expanded, and I have a little bit of a platform. It’s just a space for me to share my thoughts and some of my expertise in psych and therapy. My specialty is gender identity and sexuality, and would you believe there’s a need for education on those topics on the internet? Uh, yeah. So, once or twice a day, I hop on and spout my thoughts. I like to think I’ve helped some people, and I’ve definitely learned a lot.
My hair’s probably a mess, so I grab a beanie, lean back in my comfy chair, and start filming.
Hey, everybody. Usually I'm the one spouting advice, or at least insight. But tonight, I need some of yours. My life is changing. And not all change is bad. But...I'm lonely. I need a hobby. I don't have time for one, considering the semester's about to start, but in my limited free time, what should I do? Learn a language? Start whittling? Join a book club? I'm open to suggestions. Hit me with your best ones.
I post my video and toss my phone on the couch before heading into the bathroom to start my shower. By the time I stretch out on the couch half an hour later, my post has a couple thousand views and half as many comments. Some are downright weird,you can wax my back, some are come ons,I’ve got something to keep that pretty mouth busy, but some are actually decent. A bunch of people suggest hiking, and when the weather warms up a little, I’ll give that a try. Several people suggest dancing, so I text Mel and tell her that she was right earlier—we need to schedule a night out. A couple of people suggest learning to crochet. I’m not too crafty, but it looks like it could be relaxing. And I can always use more beanies. Someone says I should learn to cook. I’m decent in the kitchen, but a cooking class could be fun. Someone mentions ice skating, and I laugh out loud. I am not nearly coordinated enough for that. I’m a passable dancer, at best. But on blades? On a slippery surface? No thank you.
Thinking of skating makes me think of Booker. I have no clue how the man does it. I’ve only attended a couple of games, but he flies across the ice and makes it look easier than walking.
I shake my head and turn on the T.V. I need to watch something mindless to distract me from thoughts of Booker Zabek. It’s a dangerous road, but it’s one I can’t keep my mind from wandering to.
* * *
Booker
“I’m gonna make sweet fucking love to this buffalo chicken dip,” Knox says, with a totally straight face.
“I’ll take that as the compliment it was intended to be,” Whit says.
“Seriously. This is almost as good as—”
“Oh, my God,” Knox’s girlfriend, Willa, smacks his arm. “Stop. Whatever you were going to say, please don’t say it.”
“You’re right, baby,” he tells her, leaning in for a kiss. “Nothing’s as good as your—”
She claps a hand over his mouth as he laughs. “Who is in charge of you?”
“Well,” Knox answers, moving her hand and threading his fingers through hers, “let’s see. Not Heather. I publicly denounced her as my mother. And not really my dad? I mean, I haven’t even decided if I’m gonna contact him yet. And these guys are pretty sick of my shit, so…I guess that leaves you, baby. You’re in charge of me.”
“I need Jesus,” she says, shaking her head.
“Not even Jesus can help you with this lunatic.” Ty says, flinging a piece of popcorn through the air. Knox catches it deftly in his mouth.
