Page 9 of College Town

Leo is already in his socks, and Lawson ditches his shoes at the rack inside the door. Immediately, the warmth and hominess of the house folds over him.

It’s a Craftsman, all lovingly-oiled wood paneling and dozens of sneaky little built-ins, drop-down desks, and cubbies, and shelves full of books. Brushed brass and iron light fixtures, sconces, even, and stained-glass transoms. The wood is dark, the walls a creamy yellow, and Dana has furnished the place in more dark wood and squashy, overstuffed sofas and chairs in neutral colors. Anyone seeing her at the office, sleek and buttoned-up, would have found her décor jarring. But seeing her walk out of the kitchen on the phone with Domino’s, hair in a messy bun and a pair of Leo’s sweats cuffed at her ankles, it’s easy to see that fashion and comfort aren’t mutually exclusive states of being.

“Thanks,” she says into the phone, sets in on the coffee table, and then comes to him, arms open.

It’s never mattered that she was so much smaller than him; she’s never felt fragile in his arms, and her own have always felt bracing around him, just as they do now.

He gives himself a moment to bury his face in her neck and breathe in her perfume. She rubs his back, brisk and rejuvenating.

In the kitchen, Leo shuffles around, bottles clinking, corks popping. Giving them a sense of privacy.

“Honey,” Dana murmurs, tipping her head under his chin, squeezing him tight.

His chest hitches on his next inhale. “I don’t…why…I don’t…”

“Shh.” She strokes his spine, and the back of his neck, up on her tiptoes to reach.

Lawson closes over her slender-strong body and gives himself a few beats to shake, and blink his vision clear. He feels a little better when he finally draws back.

She grips his biceps and tilts her head.Okay?

He nods, and then collapses back into the chair that’s unofficially become his.

Lawson explained in the briefest terms in his text earlier, so it’s no surprise that Dana settles on the sofa, legs tucked beneath her, and says, “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Lawson hesitates.

Leo appears with three glasses of red balanced expertly between his fingers. “I put the white in the fridge to chill,” he explains, passing them around.

“You’re an angel, Leo,” Lawson says, accepting his glass, and means it.

Dana gives him a moment to take a few fortifying swallows, and for Leo to settle in beside her, one hand resting gently on her foot, before she points at Lawson and says, “Go.”

He takes a few more fortifying sips. “I was working the register, and I looked up, and he was just…there.”

“What, like, he materialized? Like a ghost?”

“Exactly!”

She gives him a look.

“I dunno,” he caves, slumping down deeper into the chair. It’s a kickass chair, but it’s not doing anything for his blood pressure. “Jess asked me to take over for her, and by the time I got there, he was just…” He gestures to the coffee table. “In his suit, with his watch, and his stupid – his eyes! You remember his eyes.”

“Yes.” Dana looks like she hides a smile in the rim of her glass.

“Hey – screw you. I’m…” He rakes his hair off his forehead, where it’s clinging to the gathering sweat there, and holds it along the crown of his head, breathing deeply. He goes to take another sip of wine and finds his glass empty.

Leo stands and collects it for him, sweeps out of the room for a refill.

“Sorry.” Dana sobers. “I wasn’t trying to–”

“I know.” He swallows with effort. “That’s a real sweet man you got there.”

Her expression goes impossibly fond. “I know.”

Leo returns, glass full to the brim this time, and Lawson feels his smile wobble. Fuck.

When Leo’s back in his seat, Dana’s feet in his lap this time, he tries again. He tells her about the suit, and the watch, and the cufflinks; about his hair gelled tight to his head like a helmet, and the new, adults lines on his face, and his five o’clock shadow trying to peek through his shave, and about the way his brows snapped together in shock.

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