Page 130 of We Can't Be Friends

I readjusted my hat, covering the sliver of ear peeking out below. Tugging on the sleeves of my thermal shirt under my winter coat, I head back.

In the front entryway, I hang up my coat. Putting my fanny pack in its designated spot and keys on the hook. Padding further in the place, the silence cuts deep.

The apartment is as empty as the city.As empty as me.

Even Tucker doesn’t greet me when I return, cozied up in Cal’s bed between his pillows.

Slipping off my shoes—Cal would be flustered that I even wore them upstairs—I pull back the covers next to Tucker and curl up in his bed.

The mattress is formed to his muscular body. He’s not even here, but being in his space is steadying me, calming the thoughts that are a storm within me.

The book Cal gifted me is staring at me, burning a hole of curiosity into me that picks at me, his words playing repeatedly.

The tabs make me think of you.

What am I supposed to do with this?

Read it.

Walking my fingers over the cover—vibrant and creative illustrated characters, not a shirtless man. Maybe I should ask him to print a picture of himself to tape on the cover—I slowly pull it to me. The book tumbles off the surface and onto the bed. Shifting to sit up against the headboard, Tucker adjusts his position, pushing his back under my elbow.

I flip through the pages and let out a sigh.

Don’t just read the tabs, Daisy. I can hear Cal’s voice in my head.

Opening the purple cover, I start on the first page.

Hours, maybe days, pass by.

I read the book. Then another. And another.

Only crawling out of my literary hibernation for a snack or to search his shelves for another book.

I think I finally get why Emerson loves reading.

Somehow, in the past two days, I’ve lived countless lives.

A dragon rider at a war college.

A vampire betrothed to a werewolf only to realize you are mates.

A member of London’s elite and a gang lord.

A female NHL player and her best friend reporter.

I’ve seen myself reflected in characters, places, and words. I’ve felt as if I’ve made friends with these fictional characters, been a part of their family, facing their troubles—their demons—with them.

The silence wasn’t as loud when I was reading.

The voices weren’t either.

I didn’t feel as alone, even though I was. And I don’t want to be alone anymore.

***

Our building installed a new security system at the beginning of December. Nothing too fancy for the co—I actually don’t know how much this place cost. Probably don’t even want to know.

Anyway, the security system now lets us know when someone is coming to our unit—guest or tenant. Garage code typed in,buzz. Unit number dialed at the front for secured entrance, buzz. Elevator depositing someone on your floor,buzz.

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