Page 109 of Crease Collision

Every message from him feels cautious. Not cold, because Ozzy could never be cold. This morning, he sent a text before I was awake.

OZZY: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

No question about my plans or teasing about spending all day building LEGO. No rating of his hotel bed, something he always does that makes me laugh.

Nothing is wrong with his words. They’re just… sparse.

I scrape half my breakfast into the trash and pour another cup of coffee. It tastes awful. No one makes it like Ozzy does.

I pick up my phone.

KAI: Hope you have a good travel day. What time do you want to get together tomorrow?

He doesn’t answer right away, so I sit on the couch and look out the window. After ten minutes, there’s still no reply. Maybe the Wi-Fi isn’t working on their plane.

Clean the condo first, or build LEGO? After a spirited internal debate, I declare LEGO the winner. Cleaning will give me something to do later. On the way to the hobby room, I stop in the kitchen and dump the remains of my coffee in the sink.

The ship I started earlier this week waits on the worktable. I’d barely made any progress before the Condors left for our own roadie, so it should keep me busy for a while. I focus on deciding which pieces to connect next. LEGO can be like chess, even more fun if you plan ahead.

After a while, my eyes get tired, so I gaze out the window for a break. I count buildings, trying to remember what I know about each one.

Maybe this is what healthy dating looks like. Less pressure. Less expectation.

Less of me.

I leave that thought where it lands. “Helvete!” I yell, using one of his curse words that always makes me laugh.

I return to the kitchen to make lavender tea. After putting the water on to boil, I open a cabinet and see two mugs Mom made after we visited Norway in the front. One has a chip in the rim from when Ozzy dropped it in the sink last month. I use that one.

When the tea is ready, I take it to the living room and scroll through The Onion. A cartoon catches my eye, and after I stop snickering, I send Ozzy a screenshot.

KAI: Thought this might give you something to laugh at on the plane.

This time, he replies in less than a minute.

OZZY: Perfect. Thank you.

Nothing else. Still no hotel bed rating. Not even something stupid a teammate said.

Tomorrow will be better. We’ll hang out, eat good food, and spend the afternoon stretched out on the couch watching garbage TV.

I take a sip of tea and yell “fan” because it’s gone as cold as Ozzy and I have.

An hour later, the silence in the condo becomes unbearable. Reset room.

It doesn’t help.

What is wrong with me?

I look at my phone. Nothing. It takes a lot of willpower not to go into the bathroom and throw it in the toilet. I step out onto the balcony instead. It’s a nice day for March, sunny and sixty-two degrees.

Music is blasting from downstairs. When I look over the balcony, there’s a street full of people and a live band at the corner. I’d forgotten today was the annual Spring Is Coming Fair, and it’s in full swing. I pull on a hoodie and jeans before heading outside.

The area around our building is blocked off, and people are everywhere. A bunch of kids run by, laughing their heads off, and I smile without meaning to. Couples are walking around, some holding hands and others carrying babies strapped to their chests. Still others are elderly, looking at each other like they fell in love last week.

I wander around with my hands in my pockets. When I pass a coffee stand, I order a cup. Shit. It’s even worse than mine.

All at once, a crowd closes in. I look around for an escape route and see an empty spot by a fence about twenty yards away. Relieved, I push through the mass of people so I can claim it before anyone else does.