CHAPTER 10

MIA

Even if you were holding me hostage for ransom, I don’t think I could explain how I ended up saying yes to staying in Griffon’s apartment. The words just flew out of me—I was honestly surprised with myself. But she wasn’t wrong; I don’t really have many other options. This is where I work and live, and if it’s only for a couple of days, then what’s the big deal?

I’m glad Eleanor isn’t here to witness this, though. She wouldn’t be able to contain herself, watching me drag my floral comforter—the same one I’ve had since I was 18—from my flooded apartment to Griffon’s surprisingly clean living room.

Griffon has been helping me move over some daily essentials for the past few hours. I’m grateful, but we haven’t exchanged more than a few words: a couple of “yeah,” “nos,” “thanks,” and nods. I could’ve tried to strike up a conversation, but every time I try, I’m reminded of my current situation—which, in turn, reminds me of last night.

I can't even think about what I did without wanting to die from embarrassment. I think I might just evaporate into nothingness because not only did she possibly hear me orgasm through the walls, but she definitely heard my wet, naked body crash onto the floor. Since she hasn’t said anything, I’m holding onto the very slim chance she didn’t hear it at all. Although, maybe she’s just not mentioning it because she’s the one who messed up my plumbing and now feels sorry for the poor, horny girl next door with the fucked-up pipes.

Holy shit is this karma for masturbating?!

I mean, how could this seriously happen to me?!

Do I truly have the worst luck in the world?

What’s worse is that I don’t even have time to grieve over my apartment’s flooring or my existence. I just have to push through. Walking back into her place on my last trip, toiletries in hand, I know I can’t stay quiet forever. The closest thing I’ve ever had to a roommate is Eleanor when she sleeps over. But that’s different—she’s my best friend and always has been. Griffon… well, Griffon is practically a stranger.

A stranger–I got off to.

But still a stranger, and now I have to live with her. As uncomfortable as this is, I can’t spend the next few days wallowing in awkward silence. I know I need to say something. But when I return to her living room, all my stuff is gone.

My comforter, pillows, tote bag full of clothes, even my phone—all gone. Griffon’s green velvet couch is completely empty as if nothing has happened.

I wish it hadn’t. But as I whip my head around her perfectly curated apartment, I hear Griffon moving down the hallway.

For the second time today, I yell out, “Griffon?”

“Oh yeah! Come back here!”

I heard her, but my feet felt glued to the floor.

It shouldn’t surprise me that she’s handy, but from her style and living room vibe, I could already tell she has great taste. Still, damn. Her bedroom feels like stepping into one of those overpriced boho clothing boutiques. The dark botanical wallpaper gives the room a cozy dimness, and the lamps and fairy lights keep it from feeling cramped. Her huge, dark wood mid-century bed frame is gorgeous—no wonder I could hear so much from the other side. I try not to think about that as my eyes land on my comforter, now spread across her mattress.

My eyes widen.

“I just pulled out fresh sheets, I promise!” Griffon says quickly, probably already reading my mind.

“I know you said you’d take the couch, but I couldn’t let you do that. I promise you’ll have the room to yourself, and I won’t bother you. I’ll be in the living room the entire time.”

Her palms are raised in front of her, a clear defense. But my eyes drift to something just past her, and it really shouldn’t be the first thing that comes to mind, but I can’t help myself.

“Is your TV mounted?”

Griffon’s brows furrow in amusement as she glances back at the 60-inch TV floating perfectly in the middle of her wall.

“Of course it is. Isn’t yours?”

I just stare blankly. This girl has been here for less than two weeks, and her place already looks like it came out of a home-style magazine. I don’t think I’ve met a single person in this building who’s ever mounted their TV on the wall.

My silence must be enough of an answer because she laughs and says, “Well, let’s go ahead and add that to your list of renovations.”

Quickly, I turn away as I feel color rushing to my cheeks. Instinctively, I giggle and shake my head at her comment, even though she seems completely serious.

“Uh, thank you for this. I really do appreciate it.”

“I mean, it’s the least I can do…” Griffon says, wide-eyed, and we both burst into laughter for the first time. It takes me a moment to realize it, but by the time I do, our laughs are already fading, and the awkward silence settles back in.

Avoiding eye contact, I clear my throat and speak up.

“Sooo, how did you get so ‘handy’?” I can’t help putting up air quotes, emphasizing the fact that she did a shit job in my apartment.

“Hey! I told you, it was the pipes, not me! Ben didn’t warn me how old everything was. The place couldn’t even handle the new parts I put in.”

We’re both laughing again.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I just had to ask,” I say, still smiling. “But seriously, where did you learn to do all this?” I gesture around, pointing at everything all at once.

Griffon chuckles. “Well, my dad worked in construction, and my mom was an interior designer. So, I guess you could say it’s in my blood.”

I’m actually surprised by her answer. “Wow, that’s incredible. You did an amazing job on your apartment, so that explains it.”

Griffon looks surprised, probably because—outside of my head—this is the first compliment I’ve given her.

She’s quiet for a moment as if contemplating something, but within seconds, she’s back by the doorway.

“Well, I should probably let you get settled in. I know today’s already been a lot.”

I smile softly and nod. “Thanks again.”

But before she’s fully gone, she pokes her head back in with a grin.

“Oh, by the way, I brought something from your apartment that I thought you might’ve forgotten.” My brows immediately furrow as she winks, subtly jerking her chin toward something across the room.

Confused, I turn and make my way around the bed—my eyes widening the moment I spot it. Sitting on a side table in the corner is the same brown box where I’d stashed the recently used toy.

Before I can react, I whip my head back around, only to find the doorway completely empty.