Page 84 of Puck Me Back to Life

Ash's condo is exactly what I expected and somehow not at all. I wander while he makes coffee.

Not because I'm snooping. Because I'm trying to avoid thinking about the fact that I spent the night here. Spent the night. The phrase still feels strange.

The condo is clean. Lived in but slightly sterile. The kind of place someone comes home to every day. The kind of place that belongs to a person instead of existing as a storage unit for their stuff.

The kitchen opens into the living room. A massive television dominates one wall.

There are shelves filled with horror movies. An alarming amount of horror movies. I stop in front of them.

“You own all of these?”

From the kitchen, Ash answers immediately. “I can hear the judgment in your voice.”

“There are at least four movies involving haunted dolls.”

“They're classics.”

I smile despite myself. The smell of coffee drifts through the apartment.

Comfortable. I hate how much I like it.

My attention catches on a framed photo sitting on a nearby shelf. Ash and Dante. Both younger and wearing Raiders jerseys. Dante is grinning at the camera like he just won the lottery. Ash looks vaguely annoyed to be there. Some things never change.

Even younger, Ash still has long dark hair. Still towers over everyone around him.

A second picture sits beside it. This one makes me pause. College graduation. Ash is wearing a cap and gown.

He's in his early twenties, softer somehow. The hard edges haven't settled into place yet. Beside him stands an older man. Gray hair. Broad shoulders. Proud smile. One arm wrapped around Ash's shoulder.

The resemblance isn't obvious at first. But once I see it, I can't stop seeing it.

The eyes. The jaw. The shape of the smile.

Ash never talks about his family. Then again, I don't talk about mine either.

The coffee machine clicks off. I hear Ash moving around the kitchen. Cabinets opening. Mugs setting onto counters. The quiet sounds of someone existing in their own space.

Naturally. Like having me here doesn't register as unusual.

It makes me wonder what it would be like if it stayed normal.

I leave the living room before my brain can keep going down that road. The bedroom still smells faintly like him. I stop beside the bed. My clothes are folded neatly where Ash left them. Of course they are.

A few minutes later I'm dressed. My own clothes feel wrong. Too tight and cold.

The white shirt Ash gave me last night lies on the bed taunting me with its comfort. I stare at it for another second before turning away.

Pathetic.

Large hands settle on my waist. I barely have time to react before I'm being pulled backward into solid warmth. Ash's chest presses against my back. His chin brushes my shoulder.

My pulse immediately betrays me.

“Leaving me again?” His voice is rough.

Sleepy.

Amused.