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“Okay. Well…”
Lois doesn’t let me finish my sentence. She steps closer, slipping her hands around me, lacing her fingers behind my back. When she presses her face to my chest, I almost forget to breathe. My arms are dangling by my sides. I don’t know what else to do with them.
“Happy holidays, Lane.”
She looks up at me, and the smile I see on her face finally springs me into action. I pull her in for a hug, giving her a clumsy squeeze, and press my lips to her forehead. I can’t help but breathe her in.
“You too. I’ll be here to pick you up on the thirtieth, okay?”
“Okay,” she says into my sweater.
She smells good. It’s a scent I know well by now.
“Lane?”
“Yeah?”
“I need to go.”
That’s when I realize I’m still holding on to her. I let go instantly, stuffing my clammy hands into my pockets.
“Take care of yourself.”
She starts walking backward. “Don’t worry.”
She gives me one last wave, and I watch as she glides through the security checks before strolling past the departure gates’ long glass walls.
I LEAN ON THE KITCHENisland, hunched over my phone, tapping the ground with my foot. I messaged Lois to check she got home okay, and I’ve been waiting for her to reply for ten minutes now. I scroll through socials, looking for news of a plane crash or something.It’s official: I’m fucking losing it.
LOIS: Made it safe and sound!
Finally, the message lands in my inbox and my chest unclenches.
LOIS: My dad drives like a grandpa. It’s definitely gotten worse since summer…
LANE: Driving is a skill, you know
LOIS:
LANE: Did you ditch the coat yet?
LOIS: Not yet, I literally just got in. My mom and brothers are waiting for me in the living room. #ambush
LANE: Good luck with that.
LOIS: If you don’t hear from me tomorrow morning…
LANE: Kirk’s the bad guy, here!
LOIS: I know, but they don’t know the whole story yet. Plus I’ve been living with a stranger the past four months! #RedFlag
LANE: #Triggered
LOIS: #OverAndOut
I hate how my footsteps echo in the empty apartment, though I’m feeling a little better now. I settle down on my bed with a book, but none of the words are sticking. I give it two hours before blasting off another message.
LANE: So?
