I nodded, not surprised. I was a little relieved, actually, since I wasn’t exactly great at keeping secrets anyway.
“Yeah, she did.”
“I’m fine.” He looked away, down the street.
There was a short silence between us as I tried to decide how to act around him. The last time I had seen him, we were together, or at least I thought we were about to be. I had nearly forgotten what it was like to be a stranger to him. I wanted our bodies to fit together like they did that night, and his nearness didn’t help that.
“Good, then you’re fit enough to carry this upstairs.”
He laughed and nodded. The tension broke between us.
“Yeah, don’t worry little lady, I got this.”
I snorted. “This isn’t a feminism thing. I lugged this box from UPenn’s campus.”
“I can tell.” He grinned, looking me up and down.
“Oh, you asshole.” That was more like him. I could feel us dropping back into the old familiar banter.
“Grab the door?”
I held it open for him as he lifted the box, making the heavy, awkward container look light and easy. He went in first, and I followed. He let me slip by him and I went up the stairs, aware of his eyes on my ass. I unlocked the front door to my apartment, and he carried the box inside, placing it gently down next to the couch. I followed him inside and glanced around, thankful that Chris wasn’t home. She wouldn’t have said anything, not at first anyway, but I wanted to put off that conversation for as long as possible.
“So, what do we have here?” He began to rummage through the stuff, nodding his head. “Collapsible tripod, HD handheld, decent wireless mics. You even have some lighting. Pretty good stuff, dots.”
“My mom is no joke,” I said.
It felt strange to have him in my apartment; at least, it was strange with the way things were between us. I wished I could give him the full tour, maybe hold him captive in my bedroom for the afternoon, but I knew that possibility was long gone. Instead, I nodded toward the door.
“Care if we go for a walk?”
“Whatever you want, dots.”
“Let me change real fast.”
He shrugged and took out the camera, an HD professional Sony model I had never seen before, and started playing with the controls. I hurried back into my bedroom, heart racing. I tore off my shirt and jeans, reapplied deodorant, and changed into a cleaner outfit. I checked myself out in the mirror and sighed. There wasn’t much I could do, and so I decided to keep it casual and not do anything. He had already seen me at my worst, anyway.
When I came back into the living room, he was holding the camera pointed directly at me, and the red light was on indicating that it was recording.
“Oh god, no,” I said, holding up my hands.
“Miss Dots, what do you have to say about the crisis in the Middle East?”
“I am not doing this,” I said, laughing.
He moved closer, holding the camera with two hands and looking down at the viewfinder. “Miss Dots, please, about the recent allegations regarding your personal life.”
“No comment,” I said, still blocking my face, but smiling.
“We heard you enjoy an active and vigorous evening schedule.”
I gave him a look. “You heard correctly. It’s like a revolving door up here.”
He looked at me for a second, and there was something weird in his eyes. Then it was gone, and he was grinning again.
“Miss Dots, is it true you have a thing for handsome men in V-neck shirts?”
“No, that’s a dirty lie.” I gave him a look and he pretended to be hurt. “Quit playing around, let’s get going.”
He sighed and shut the camera down. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
And it was true. Part of me would have been disappointed if he had been standoffish and distant, though the rest of me was shocked at exactly how normal he was being. It was almost like nothing had happened between us. It was almost like he hadn’t broken my heart by tearing himself out of my life.
“Come on, let’s get out of this dungeon,” he said, holding open the door for me.
“Hey, this place is in a prime spot,” I retorted, walking out into the hall.
“You’re absolutely right, not at all a dank, dark dungeon.”
I rolled my eyes and walked down the steps, pushing out into the street.
“It’s not even in the basement,” I said.
He followed me out. “Doesn’t have to be.”
“I think you fundamentally misunderstand what a ‘dungeon’ actually is.”
He laughed and shrugged. “I’ve seen a dungeon or two in my time, and that, dots, is a dungeon.”