Stuck With Me: A With Me in Seattle Universe Novel

by Melissa Brown

  -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, standing next to the counter, not in any rush to sit next to her. I had to know what she wanted, why she was sitting in my apartment after weeks of no contact.

  “So… Are you seeing anyone?” she asked, and from the cracking in her voice, I knew she was trying to sound casual, but she was failing.

  “Anyone?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  “Her? Are you seeing her?”

  “Trup, I didn’t end things because of Lyra. And no, we aren’t seeing each other. I mean, we’re spending time together, but we’re just friends.”

  That was a half-truth.

  “So you’re back on Tinder then?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When we first broke up, you joined Tinder. And you stayed on it until we were together again…”

  “What’s the point?”

  Trupti glared at me, expecting me to understand where she was going with her train of thought. And I did, but I had no intention of stepping into the trap she’d created. She was trying to start shit about Lyra, and I wasn’t having it.

  Yes, I’m not on Tinder because I have feelings for someone.

  My phone buzzed and I grimaced.

  “We’re having a conversation, Dev.”

  “It could be work; you know I’m basically on call like always.”

  Sure enough, it was work. An emergency in Chicago. “I have to take this. Give me a minute.”

  I walked into my bedroom and walked the associate through the system failure, doing my best to ignore the fact that my ex-girlfriend would be waiting for me in my kitchen when I returned. For a moment I contemplated sneaking out the window…

  Once I wrapped up my call, I went back to face Trupti.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m used to it. When work calls, no one else exists.”

  “My job comes with a shit-ton responsibility, and I don’t owe you an explanation, especially not anymore.”

  An awkward pause hung in the air of my apartment as I refused to speak next. Trupti closed her eyes, exhaled, and then spoke.

  “I’m ready to meet your friends. Spend time with them.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “What?”

  You think I’m not on Tinder because I’m hung up on you… Shit.

  “Just listen—”

  “Trup—”

  “No, I mean it this time. I waited too long, and I know it. I’m sorry, I just… I didn’t realize how badly I screwed up until you ended things. I should’ve gone on the ski trip.”

  “You know it’s not just about the ski trip, right? It’s about all the times last year that I asked you to come out with us. I can’t even count how many times you blew me off. How many times I had to lie to my friends when you canceled at the last minute. How stupid I felt every single time. You made me look like a fool.”

  “I won’t do that anymore, I promise.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Just like you promised to come to Pete and Maren’s housewarming and their Friendsgiving dinner.”

  “I was scared!”

  “Who isn’t? We’re all fucking terrified, but you have to show up for the person you love.”

  “I will. I’ll show up.”

  “But it’s more than that, Trup. Months ago, all of this would be music to my freaking ears, but you just pushed me too far. I don’t…” I paused, not wanting to hurt her but also wanting to avoid any misunderstandings. I attempted to soften my expression to also soften the blow of what I was about to say. “I don’t love you any
more.”

  A lone tear rolled down Trupti’s cheek. She wiped it away violently as she stared up at the ceiling. “I’m so stupid.”

  “No, you’re not. Look, I’m not trying to hurt you, but I have to be honest. We tried, and it just didn’t work. Our time has passed.“

  “Because of Lyra. Because of whatever happened on that damn ski trip.”

  “You already know what happened. I literally held her hand for a moment and wanted to kiss her. But I didn’t. You know everything, Trup. Stop inventing shit. There’s nothing more than what you already know.”

  “You said you’re spending time with her though. How can I believe you’re just friends?”

  I pressed my lips together in a fine line and shook my head. “It doesn’t matter what you believe. We aren’t together anymore. I don’t owe you anything.”

  “Fuck you!” She took her glass of water and threw it at my head. I ducked, and it hit the cabinets and crashed to the floor, the glass shattering everywhere.

  “What the fuck?” I said, looking down at the tiny glass shards that stuck to my hooded sweatshirt. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

  She jumped from the barstool and got in my face. “I did the second I decided to come here. Stupidest decision I ever made!”

  I sucked in a deep breath, my nose flaring as I glared at her. I’d never yelled at a woman, and I wasn’t about to do it now. But damn, I wanted to.

  “Get out,” I said between clenched teeth.

  “I’m already gone,” she sneered, walking out of my apartment, slamming the door so hard the picture frame next to it slid to the ground and shattered.

  “Well, that escalated quickly,” I muttered to myself as I picked the glass off of my shirt, tossing it down to the other pieces of glass below, trying to remember where Inga kept the dustpan.

  When I’d finally wiped up all the water and gotten all of the glass into the garbage can, I looked at the door, knowing this would be the last time I’d ever clean up Trupti’s messes ever again. No more lying to my friends about why she couldn’t join us for this party or that dinner. No more lying to my mom about whether I was seeing someone.

  I was done.

  I used to think that Trupti was the love of my freaking life. I wanted her to have my babies, to live in a perfect house in the perfect suburbs, to take her on anniversary vacations while my parents watched our kids. I had this entire vision of our future together. And that future was officially gone. Walking to my liquor cabinet, I grabbed my bottle of Tito’s and poured a shot. I stared at it for just a moment, then raised it up in front of me before downing it.

  “Goodbye, Trup.”

  For just a minute, I thought about that future I’d clung to for so long and I was sad. It was normal to be sad when you thought about the dreams you once had that would never come to be. That was normal, right? But the funny thing was, that feeling didn’t last long. About two minutes later, I heard my phone buzz with a text. And just the thought of that text being from Lyra erased all the sadness in my head and brought on anticipation and thought of possibilities.

  Because that was what Lyra was—anticipation and possibilities. With just a side of hot tempers and misunderstandings.

  And even though the text wasn’t even from her, I sat my ass on my couch and thought about Lyra and everything that was possible for us if I played my cards right.

  And despite my failed relationship with Trupti, I was a damn good card player.

  Chapter 16

  LYRA

  I clean when I’m angry. Always have. Because of that, my apartment is…well, not the cleanest. From an emotional standpoint, that was probably a good thing, an indicator of a pretty content life. But when someone was going to see my home for the first time, especially someone I was interested in romantically, it became a major source of stress. The second that Dev suggested picking me up at my place for our dinner-and-decoration-shopping excursion, I started to panic as I glanced around the living room.

  I hadn’t vacuumed in at least a week, a stack of magazines lined the coffee table, old cups sat all around the room. Maren loved to tease me that I was constantly grabbing a fresh cup from my cabinet but rarely put the dirty one in the dishwasher until I ran out of cups. Because of this, I even had a stash of red plastic cups, just in case.

  The thought of Dev seeing my pit of a place, knowing that he was a total neat freak (the guy had a housekeeper, for God’s sake!) made it especially stressful. Knowing that I wouldn’t have much time after work, I had started cleaning up the night before. And thank goodness I did, because I got held up at the library, helping a student with their project on Jane Austen. “Held up” is probably the wrong phrase. I was happy to stay and help the student with the author I was most passionate about, and the time got away from me.

  And so I had approximately fifteen minutes to change my clothes, apply fresh deodorant, brush my teeth, and put the finishing touches on my place. Luckily, I could be fast when I wanted to be.

  The doorbell went off at exactly six thirty. I buzzed Dev up while scooping up two last cups from the living room and dropping them into my sink, hoping he wouldn’t notice them peeking out from behind the stainless steel. I took two deep breaths as I knew he was climbing the stairs, reminding myself that it was just Dev and it wasn’t a date. Yes, there would be dinner, but we both had to eat, right?

  Before Dev could knock on the door, I opened it up just as he had his hand up in a fist. His face lit up when he saw me, and I imagine mine did the same. To say that a shift had happened in our dynamic would be a gigantic understatement, but I was enjoying it more than I even wanted to admit to myself. Yes, he was still a massive flirt, and yes, he sometimes annoyed me, but things were just different. The annoyance was slight, playful, and no matter what, I found myself wanting to be annoyed by him, wanting him to push my buttons so I could tease him right back.

  “This place was impossible to find. What the hell?” he said, strolling past me into the apartment.

  “Nice to see you too. Come right in,” I said with a laugh as I closed my door. “And what are you talking about? It’s, like, seven blocks from your beloved Bennet’s.”

  “Seriously?” He looked astonished as he glanced around my place. “I had no idea. I took an Uber from work. Maybe my driver didn’t know what the hell he was doing. I think we went around your block, like, six times.”

  “Sounds like he was just trying to get the meter up.”

  “Maybe,” he said with a laugh. “Nice place though. It’s very…you.”

  I licked my lips and crossed my arms. “What makes you say that?”

  “It looks like a bookworm’s house. Books, candles, comfy-looking couch,” he said, extending his arm toward my wall of bookcases before plopping himself down on said couch. “Ahh, I was right. Very comfy.”

  I chuckled. “I’m so glad you approve.”

  “I’m starving,” he said, jumping back up on the balls of his feet. “Where should we eat?”

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  “I could seriously go for a burger. You?”

  “Perfect. There’s a Five Guys right near the party store.”

  “Dude, that place is my favorite. Let’s do it.”

  “I’ll just get my coat,” I said, grabbing my coat and scarf from the kitchen chair I’d thrown them on.

  “Weather’s not too bad if you wanna walk.”

  “You sure? You’re in your fancy work shoes,” I said, looking down at his leather wingtip shoes. They looked damn good on him.

  “Nah, I’m good. Sorry, I didn’t have time to go home and change.” He pulled back on his wool trench coat to reveal his navy blue suit, gingham checked Oxford shirt, and navy tie. He looked incredible.

  Suave, Sophisticated Dev has entered the building.

  “I’m good if you’re good,” I said with a smile, guiding him out of my apartment and locking the door behind us.

  “I’m good,” he said, wiggling his eyebro
ws.

  Yes, you are.

  Fifteen minutes later our number was called and we were digging into our paper bag of goodness. Dev had insisted on paying and with a line of people behind us, I had let him. As I unwrapped my burger, he grimaced.

  “I don’t know how you eat it like that,” he said, scrunching his nose at my burger wrapped in lettuce instead of a bun.

  “What? It’s delicious.”

  “I just didn’t peg you for being one of those Keto girls.”

  “I’m not, but I really love their fries. So it’s a trade-off. If I want the fries, I skip the bun. It’s not a big deal.”

  He tilted his head in understanding before taking an enormous bite of his double bacon cheeseburger complete with bun.

  “Besides,” I said, “we can’t all eat anything we want and not gain a pound.”

  He covered his mouth and laughed. “That’s not totally true. Yeah, I have a good metabolism, but I run every morning too. Usually about five miles.”

  “Holy hell,” I said, impressed. “I didn’t realize that.”

  “And you do yoga with Mare.”

  “Yep. Usually two or three times a week.”

  “Savita’s obsessed—I mean totally obsessed.”

  “Same.”

  “Why? What’s so special about it?”

  “It’s just…relaxing and stimulating at the same time. I leave class feeling exhausted and invigorated. No other exercise has done that for me, and I’ve tried just about everything,” I said, popping a salty fry into my mouth. “And what about you? Why running?”

  “The high. When I’m finished with my run, I feel unstoppable, powerful, ready to kick ass and take names.”

  “I tried running once; I just wanted to take a nap,” I said before biting into my lettuce wrap. When I felt the juice from the burger dripping down my chin, I grabbed a brown paper napkin.

  He laughed, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth. “Mm-hmm, sometimes that too. Depends on the day, I guess.”