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Lola scanned the apartment instead of lunging forward and going for his eyes. She took in the roller bag by the couch, shoes and clothes strewn around, empty food containers on the counter. Her hands clenched into tight, bone-crunching fists.
“How long have you been here?” she screeched, slamming her door closed behind her.
“Your mom said you weren’t getting back until tonight,” he snapped back like she was in the wrong for having barged in on him unannounced.
There hadn’t been a single time, not one, when she hadn’t regretted sharing the code to her door with her mother. Pressing her fingers to her burning eyes, she tried to channel some kind of imperfect calm. Anything to cling to the scraps of happiness she had left.
“It’s not a big deal,” he said, like it was his house she was standing in. Like she’d just asked if she could crash on his couch.
Vibrating with simmering rage, Lola worked very hard not to scream. Not for his benefit, but for her own.
“Get. Out.” Each word was a knife flung at Gil’s chest. He shrunk back, finally sensing the wrath about to be unleashed, and changed his tone to pleading.
“Come on,prima,” he begged, calling on their familial link like it might be another code. Another point of access. “I don’t have anywhere to go until tonight. My buddy—”
“Why can’t you go back to your own damn apartment?” The muscles in her neck spasmed. She was sure that she would regret his answer as soon as she asked the question.
He scratched the back of his head, giving her another unsightly glimpse. She liked that robe and now she was going to have to burn it. “Tonya kinda kicked me out.”
She raised her brows, already tired of this story.
“I just need to give her a little time to cool off. She’s over-reacting because they shut off the power. But I told her it would only be temporary. I just needed the cash for the—”
“If you say taco truck, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Gil stopped talking so abruptly there was no doubt about what he was going to say.
“Get the hell out of my apartment, Gil,” Lola repeated.
His eyes flashed to her oven. “But I have a cheese souffle in there.”
“You don’t know how the hell to make a souffle!”
“But I have to learn sometime!”
“Oh my God!” Lola pushed open her bedroom door, needing to get away from Gil before she physically shoved him out the door.
In her bedroom, she discovered that Gil had not just been staying in her house, he’d been sleeping in her bed. All she could imagine was his naked sweaty body spoiling her sheets. Sheets she liked. Sheets she’d probably have to burn along with the mattress. Actually, maybe it was time to move.
Before she could stomp out of the bedroom and start throwing his shit out the window, her phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans. She pulled it out, ready to snap if Gil had the audacity to text her mother and complain that she’d been mean to him.
The sight of Carmen’s name on her screen slowed the pounding in her neck and eased the tension in her back.
Carmen:How’s the real world treating you so far…
Lola:Worse than expected.
Carmen:Aww is that your sweet way of telling me you miss me already?
Smiling to herself, Lola almost sat down on the edge of her bed to text before she remembered Gil and the robe and the contamination on every surface.
Lola:It’s my way of saying I might just be apartment hunting soon. How’s reality treating you?
Carmen:Well… it’s no clean mountain air.
Carmen:I must have slept weird on the plane though. I’ve got this ache… can’t seem to get rid of it.
Lola grinned, sure that whatever was ailing Carmen, it had nothing to do with the airplane.
