Page 119 of Only With You

With that, I close the door behind me and saunter to my bed. I sit against the headboard, stretching my legs out, and El lays her head on top of my lap.

“How did it go?” I gently drag my fingers through her thick, dark brown hair.

Confliction dances across her face before she sucks in a deep breath. “She’s pregnant.”

Cecilia is twenty-six years old. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but I’ve heard enough about her over the past year to know she’s not responsible.

El blankly stares at the ceiling before groaning loudly. “She can hardly take care of herself. I don’t know how she’s going to manage with a baby.”

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” I’m not sure I can even believe what I was saying, but El doesn’t need more negativity in her life.

She goes rigid and closes her eyes like she’s ashamed. “I suggested an abortion, and I know that makes me sound like a shit person, but, Juls, she’s not ready.”

“You’re not a shit person. You just care about her, and?—”

“Mom thinks otherwise.” She heaves a heavy sigh. “She called me after Ces hung up.” A humorless laugh leaves her. “She wants me to call Ces back for being inconsiderate of her feelings. Can you believe that? She callsmeinconsiderate, but I’m the one who—I’m sorry, but can we talk about something else?”

She clears the emotions lacing her voice, sits next to me, and rests her head on my shoulders.

“Is this Hapless?” she asks, staring at my TV.

“Haptic,” I correct, interlocking my arm around hers.

“That voice and those hands…Jesus, does he ever show his face?”

“No, he likes to stay anonymous.”

She purses her lips, humming disapprovingly. “What a shame. I bet he’s hot.”

I stare at her, amused. “What gives you that impression?”

“Look at the veins on his hands.” She points at the screen where Haptic plays the piano and sings the cover of “See You in the Dark.” He just released the song today and I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve been playing it on repeat. Though I am ashamed to admit how much it makes me think of Landon. “Only a hot person would have hands that look like that, and his fingers, they’re long. You can tell by the way they eat up the keys. What wouldn’t I do to be able to see his face.”

I nod in agreement, because…same. There’s something alluring about how he keeps himself unknown. I know he’s not the first nor will he be the last who has an account like his, but he feels different—he sounds different.

“So.” A mischievous glint dances in her eyes. “Mind explaining Halloween?”

It’s been three days since Halloween. Since the museum. Since I shared a little about myself and told him about Halloween two years ago. Since he shared a little about himself. Since he slept over. And since I last saw him.

I woke up Wednesday morning to an empty bed and no sign of Landon. And I literally mean no sign, because he cleaned up. Stored the pizza in the fridge and threw the box away.

We haven’t seen each other because he’s been busy with basketball. They have their first game next week, so the team is doing whatever it is they do to prepare.

Though we’ve been sort of texting. It’s not a lot and never about tutoring. They’re short messages that always feel reassuring but sarcastic.

He also looks at my stories on both my accounts and liked one of my pictures, in my spam account, from a year ago. It was a picture of me in pink lingerie, holding a heart-shaped cake on my birthday. I called him out on it, and with no shame, he said in a text:

Spawn of Satan: I don’t want a screenshot. Send it to me.

Me: Pictures weren’t part of the deal.

Spawn of Satan: Your body for tutoring, remember. That means I get to have you any way I want. And that means I want a picture. But since you’re being difficult, I want more than 1.

Me: Attachment: 10 Images

Me: Happy? Those weren’t too appropriate for IG. And I trust you, so no sharing.

Spawn of Satan: I wish you’d understand how fucking serious I am about not sharing you with anyone.

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