Flipping on my back, I get a glimpse of Indy’s blonde hair cascading down her pillow, her back to me. Maybe it’s more torture than anything, having her so close, but still maintaining the boundary of her being my roommate and sister’s best friend.
Indy flips onto her back as well, and as she does, her hand accidentally falls into my open palm between us, but she pulls it away instantaneously, a wave of awkwardness washing over us. Even though we’ve touched and held each other in public, this is different. No one is here to witness and therefore, it’s no longer an act. It’s simply two roommates who technically have no reason to share physical contact.
There’s a heavy silence in the room, and not the kind when two people are trying to fall asleep, but the type that’s buzzing with anticipation because you’re both aware of just how awake you are.
A beat passes between us before hesitantly, Indy slips her hand back in mine. It’s soft and small, and I close my fingers around hers before she can leave me again.
I can almost hear my nervous heart beating in the silence until her thumb skims mine in a gentle stroke, and fuck if I don’t want to yank her on top of me and kiss her right now. But I can’t. For a multitude of reasons, I can’t, so I keep our hands as the only point of contact.
I aim my eyes up towards the sky, basking in the stars, being outside. I missed this freedom.
“Hey, Ind?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“About last night. I didn’t say it, but I do care about you. You know that, right?”
She lightly squeezes my hand. “I know you do. But it’s nice to hear it. Words of affirmation and all that.”
“Right. Now, this is the part where you tell me how much you care about me.”
She yawns—forcibly. “Oh, man. It’s getting late. So tired.”
“You suck.”
The bed moves from her quiet laughter. She turns to face me, her hand still in mine and her other tucked under her cheek. “I care about you too, Ry.”
Even though I’m looking at the night sky, I can see her watching me in my periphery.
Her voice is barely a whisper when she asks, “Do you trust me?”
In theory, it’s a simple question with a simple answer. But trust is the most complicated belief in my world of black and white. If most people asked the question, it’d be an easy no, but with Indy, after only weeks of knowing her, the answer is undoubtedly, “Yes.”
Looking over at her, her expression is soft, hopeful.
“What?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. I just know how big that is coming from you.”
I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb as I turn my body to face her, the only remaining space between us is where our hands are connected.
“Will you tell me a secret?” she asks quietly. “Something no one else knows.”
Without hesitation, Marissa and the month following my college graduation runs through my mind. It’s my biggest secret. Only my sister knows what I lost, but as much as I trust Indy, I’m not sure if I’m ready to share.
Instead, I offer her another secret, something just as true. “You make me feel relaxed. Like I can be myself.”
She holds eye contact, reading me before breaking into a laugh. “Don’t lie to me, Shay. You constantly complain about how messy I am. No way in hell do I relax you.”
“You’re chaotic as fuck, Blue, but you bring me more peace than anyone else.”
She stops her giggling.
“Yes, I worry about you and that stresses me out. And you’ve practically shit a rainbow all over my apartment which almost gave me an ulcer, but when you’re home I don’t feel like I have to put on a show. I have a hard time with new people. I’m sure you know that by now. But with you, I can be myself, and that might seem like nothing to anyone else, but to me, it’s everything.”
Silence lingers between us, but I wish she’d just fucking say something.
“Stop being nice to me or you’re going to make me cry.”
I smile at that. “You always cry.”
“I know! But that was really nice to hear, Ryan.”
Fisting my free hand, I keep it at my side, holding back from touching her. I don’t want her to misinterpret my reasoning for being vulnerable. I did it simply because she deserves to hear how special she is.
“Since you didn’t give me the secret I wanted, I’ll just ask. You can decide if you answer.”
Pausing, I give her time to ask the question I inevitably know is coming.
“Why don’t you date?”
Exhaling, I scrub my free hand over my head.
Fuck it. I already know I’m going to give her the not so pretty details one day. “The last woman I was in a relationship with tried to get knocked up so she’d get eighteen years of child support from me.”
Indy stays eerily silent.
“As if she did get pregnant with my child, I wouldn’t be involved.” I chuckle without much humor behind it.
“Ryan—”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You won’t date because of that. That’s why you have a hard time trusting people? This is the woman from college?”
I nod, silently answering both questions.
In a rare moment, Indy is speechless, maybe picking up on the fact I don’t want to talk about this any longer. But she gives me her silent support through the squeeze of my hand.
“Will you tell me a secret now?” I ask.
“I don’t have many secrets. I’m kind of an open book if you couldn’t tell.”
“What are you saving money for?”
I can almost see the wheels turning in her head, contemplating this conversation.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“No. No, it’s nothing to be secretive about and it’s nothing exciting. Just…promise me you won’t laugh.”
“Well, now I’m intrigued.”
Even through the darkness, with the stars illuminating her face a bit, I can see her looking away from me.
“I’m saving money to have my eggs frozen.”
Huh?
My brows are creased in confusion. “Why? You’re still so young.”
“I know I am, but my ovaries aren’t. Thanks to my genetic line, at twenty-seven, I’ve got some old-ass eggs. All I’ve ever wanted is to be a mom, and I don’t care how. Stepmom. Foster mom. Adoptive mom. But if I want to keep the very slim chance of being a biological mom, this is my only hope. It might be too late already, I don’t know, but I need to try.”
Okay, now I can’t help but touch her. Grazing my fingertips across her cheek, I push her hair behind her ear. “Why would I laugh at that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been told I sound desperate. Maybe I do, but I don’t care. It’s the one thing I’ve always wanted in life. It’s just unfolding a little differently than I pictured. I refuse to ask my parents for help. It’s my potential family and I want to do this for myself, but that means working more to make some extra cash.”
“Who called you desperate?”
“I don’t remember,” she answers far too quickly.
My little lying roommate. It was her ex. That’s clear as fucking day.