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,