I groaned, pleasure coercing through me as Lizzy's fingers performed magic on my scalp. The feel of warm water on my skin elicited a sigh, relaxing at her ministrations. This was one of the fewer times Lizzy actually was gentle and careful with me and that's not because she was nice today-no. It's because the minute entered the house, she saw the state I was in and knew there was a juicy story behind it. That is why I was being given a VIP treatment.
"So… you and Nick had a fight?" See? something to gain
"Not a fight." I reminded her.
"Don't be frugal." I yelped when she 'accidentally' poured water on my face.
I huffed, leaning my head back as she worked through the remnants of flour. After the absolute disaster in the kitchen with Nick, my hair had turned into a powdery, tangled mess. I had no choice but to undo my braids.
"Come on I'm getting impatient here: a familiar voice cut through Lizzy's speakerphone.
"More importantly," Carrie drawled from the other side, "why didn't you end up in bed with him?"
I nearly choked on my own spit. "Carrie!" I opened my eyes and glared at Lizzy. She called her why again?
Lizzy only shrugged. "Had to call her," she said. "You know she'd kill me if I didn't."
"You two are impossible."
Carrie sighed dramatically came through the line. "No, you are impossible. Because if I were in your position, I wouldn't be talking to you right now. I'd be very, very busy. with the guy next door"
I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw the past. "It's too soon for that. We just met."
Lizzy hummed. "Haven't you heard of love at first sight?"
"Or chemistry at first sight?" Carrie added. "And don't start with the whole 'liking and attraction aren't the same' speech. You always think too much."
"It's called having standards and being careful." I shot back.
"No, babe, it's called overthinking." Lizzy quipped.
I opened my mouth to argue but decided against it. My friend knew me too much that sometimes it was uncomfortable. I knew they were right. I was overthinking. I am an overthinker, and that was proven when I almost had a nervous breakdown from just kissing him. Sometimes I envy Carrie and Lizzy. They're always fearless, diving headfirst into emotions without think of 'ifs'. Once upon a time, I was like that, but that girl had been dead for a long time.
"Okay, ladies, I'd love to stay and lecture our hopeless romantic here," Carrie's voice sliced through my thoughts. "But my target is on the move. Gotta stay sharp. Love you, talk later!" then the line went dead.
"Target, huh?" I mused.
Lizzy sighed, toweling off my hair. "You know how she gets. She hates losing, but she hates not getting what she wants even more."
I smirked. "Think she's serious about this guy?"
"She's putting in more effort than usual," Lizzy mused. "So maybe."
"And her behavior, too. Lately, she's been acting… different. I've caught her reading—not just skimming, but studying—the Bible," I said, twirling the damp ends of my hair between my fingers. "It's not a bad thing, of course, just unexpected. She's even started asking me about religious topics which is so unlike her."
"What do you know? Love drives people crazy," Lizzy said wiping off the water splashed on the sink.
"Well, I hope it works out" I continued to rub my hair with the towel.
Lizzy, however, scoffed. "Honestly? I think she should stay the way she is—free to mess around with whoever she wants, no strings attached." She reached for the blow-dry but I stopped her.
"No, I'll stay with the curls longer," on my words she returned it to the cabinet and walked out of the bathroom. Wrapping another dry towel on my head, I followed along.
Lizzy had already grabbed the remote and flopped onto the couch, flicking through channels. I looked at her closely and noticed something was wrong with her. Even though she offered to help me with my hair for gossip, she did not enquire much like always, and her comment about Carrie to just have fun with no string attached was even odd, considering she was in a relationship.
"Trouble in paradise?" I asked, watching the way her fingers lingered over the buttons, how her lips pressed into a thin line. It wasn't lost on me how often she'd been furrowing her brow during long phone calls—or how she sometimes ignored certain calls altogether.
"We're fine," she muttered, eyes fixed on the TV.
I counted silently. Three… two…
Before I even reached one, she let out a huff and turned toward me, frustration spilling over.
"Can you believe this?" she started, sitting up straighter. "I'm his girlfriend, and he can't even do this one simple thing for me. What's the harm in going to couple's therapy?"
I raised my eyebrows but didn't say anything, just let her vent. She took a deep breath before mimicking her boyfriend's voice, her expression twisting into disbelief.
'I just don't think it's necessary. If we can't solve our problems on our own, maybe we're not meant to be together.'
Ouch.
I winced, imagining how that must have hit her. Lizzy, of all people—strong-willed, always in control, always heard. She could be headstrong, sure, but she was also someone who listened, someone who wanted to work through things.
"Can you believe that? Maybe we're not meant to be?" she scoffed, standing abruptly. She snatched her phone from the couch.
I opened my mouth to say something, maybe offer some words of consolation, but she was already out of the sitting room, into her bedroom. I was left alone with flickering glow of TV. Carrie and I were no strangers to Lizzy's outbursts—her temper flaring up was nothing new. Whenever she fought with Nial, she'd rant all night, swearing she was done with him. At first, we'd console her, offering advice, only to watch in exasperation as they inevitably made up the next day. And then the two of us would have to face Nial's glare and him calling us traitor because Lizzy always told him how we were 'advising' her to leave him. After a while, we learned to step back. Instead, we just allowed her to rant.
Exhaling deeply, I decided to take a shower. Deciding to shake off the tension. My muscled relaxed as the cold water caressed my skin. Goosebumps lined up my skin from the cold but also from the memory of the kiss. My hand slowly touched my lips, with eyes close I found myself back in that kitchen again with his lips on mine, tongue against tongue and his body against mine. Before I realized it, I was hyperventilating, and I had to snap myself from my thoughts. What was I doing seriously
The effect of what happened did not just stop in the shower, it also followed me on my skin as I applied the lotion, each touch reminding me of his callous hands touching my skin, feeling me. My phone buzzed saving me from my dirty thoughts. I reached out for my Pajamas before proceeding to my phone. While in the shower, Lizzy had shouted from the living room that she was going to stay over with her boyfriend the night and Carrie too was not going to be home till tomorrow. So, I was alone tonight.
Reaching for my phone, I was half-hoping, half-dreading a message from Nick. But that was not it. A message from unknown number. My stomach however plummeted when I read the context of the message.
Unknown:Hi, it's me, Harry. You might be surprised by how I got your number, but I really worked for it. You have no idea how long it took me to write this message. I apologize for approaching you in that manner earlier; I should not have done so. But I hope we can talk. I won't ask for anything else—just to talk.
The moment I saw his name, spread through my veins. I didn't care to understand the content of the message all my head could register was that Harry had somehow got my number and was texting me. My breath hitched and my skin prickled with unease. Suddenly the walls felt like they were closing in on me, like I was being watched. Did he know that I was alone in the house?
No.
No, no, no.
This wasn't happening. My grip tightened on my phone, my fingers going numb. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing. Panicking would do me no good. It was just a message, I told myself. It was just words on the screen.
But no matter what I tried to convince myself, my body refused to listen. The room felt different. The shadows in the corners stretched too far and the silence was too eerie. The faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen sounded distant, distorted, as if I were hearing it through water.
I quickly glanced toward the window. The blinds were drawn. Were they always closed? My pulse hammered in my ears as my gaze darted to the front door. Did I lock it? I couldn't shake the feeling—that feeling. That horrible, gut-churning sensation of being watched. Like unseen eyes were tracing my every move, waiting for me to slip.
I forced myself to inhale, but the breath stuttered in my chest.
I wasn't safe.
I wasn't safe.
I wasn't safe.
I needed to calm down. Think rationally. But fear wasn't rational—it was a living, breathing thing, curling around my throat and squeezing.
What if he's outside? No, what if he was watching me now? Tears clouded my eyes as I struggle to breath. I was breaking again I couldn't allow myself to break but it was so damn hard! I stared down at my phone again, hands shaking. The message sat there, innocent on the surface, but to me, it was a door creaking open to a past I never wanted to relive.
It slipped from my grasp, landing on the bed with a soft thud.
My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone, my fingers unsteady as I dialed the first number that came. I needed help. I needed someone to help me. I needed...
"Hello?" Nick's voice cut through the chaos in my head, and I couldn't even find it in me to speak. The terror that ran through me was so paralyzing and painful.
"Hello, beautiful. Are you there?" His voice again. So warm driving me back to reality.
"Yes, I'm here." I swallowed a sob that threatened to come out. There was a pause on the other side of the line before he spoke again.
"Are you okay?" Tears fell free upon his simple question as if unraveled by it. I wanted to say yes. For years, I had perfected the art of saying yes. Yes, I'm fine. Yes, don't worry. Yes, let's change the subject. It was second nature; a well-worn script designed to reassure others and keep my own fears locked away.
But this time, something stopped me from saying 'yes'. I was not okay. I have never been okay. I have been trying to be okay. I have faked being okay, but I was tired of pretending.
"Maddy?" Nick's voice jolted me back, snapping the thread of my spiraling thoughts. My pulse pounded in my ears, the phone suddenly feeling heavy in my trembling grip. I opened my mouth to respond, but the words clung to the back of my throat, stuck behind the lump swelling there.
I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that could block out the suffocating dread clawing at my chest.
"Can... can I come over?" I stuttered a plea, before I could second guess.
Silence stretched between us, just long enough for doubt to creep in. Maybe I was asking for too much. Maybe he'd—
"Of course, you can," Nick answered. I heard some shuffling on the background before he spoke again "I'll be waiting for you at the door"
Relief washed over me so fast it left me dizzy. I barely registered grabbing my jacket or slipping on my sandals. I let in a shaky exhale as the night air fan my skin. I must have ran because the next thing I knew, I was face to face with Nick who had a soft and worried expression on his face. His eyes swept over me taking in the tension in my shoulders, the way I clutched my phone like a lifeline. Then, without a word, he stepped aside, silently inviting me in.
The moment I crossed the threshold, warmth enveloped me—not just from the apartment, but from him. The door clicked shut behind me, sealing the world and its shadows outside.