The car ride felt short, and soon enough we were pulling up outside my apartment. Travis parked and we got out, heading inside. The dry cleaner downstairs was in full swing, which meant the building smelled like chemicals. Travis made a face as we walked up the steps.
“It’s always like this?” he asked.
I shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I got used to it.”
“Not sure I will.”
I paused outside my door. “What’s that now?”
“I thought we talked about this.”
“You’re really going to sleep on my couch?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t kidding. When I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”
I sighed and unlocked the door. “Okay then. Welcome home.”
He laughed as he followed me inside. “Aside from the smell, it’s pretty cozy.” He sat down at the kitchen table. “Though not exactly personalized.”
I shrugged and poured myself a glass of water. “I didn’t think I’d be staying here long.”
“Still. There’s nothing on the walls, no pictures or anything. It’s like a serial killer lives here.”
“It’s functional.”
“It’s creepy.”
I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Not all of us carry around our high school yearbook.”
“You don’t need that, but maybe hang a picture or something, make this feel like less of a prison.”
I sighed and drank down my water. “Done criticizing the place where you’re living rent-free?”
“For now.”
I shook my head and headed toward the bedroom. I went inside and shut the door behind me, leaning up against it as it closed.
I’d been trying not to think about Travis staying over. I didn’t know what I was going to do with him sleeping on my couch all night long, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I wished he wouldn’t stay with me, but I also knew that I had no other choice. If he thought this was the best thing for us, then I couldn’t exactly disagree. He was doing so much for me already. I wasn’t going to risk looking like a total jerk by kicking him out now.
Still, he was such a distraction. I couldn’t stop looking at him every time we were around each other. I hated it, but I kept wondering what he’d feel like, his hard body pressed against mine, my legs wrapped around his hips.
As I took some deep breaths to steady myself, I felt my phone starting to ring in my pocket. I fumbled with it and pulled it out.
“Hello?”
“Hi, honey.” My mom’s voice, singsong as always.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, still flustered. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. Just checking in with my favorite child.”
I smiled to myself. She said that to me and to every one of my three older brothers.
“You don’t need to check in,” I said. “I’m doing fine.”
“I know I don’t need to. I just like to hear your voice.”
“Dad driving you crazy?”
She sighed. “You know how that man can be, dear. It’s rougher when he’s your husband.”
I smiled to myself. I loved my parents dearly and thought they were perfect people, but ever since the farm went into bankruptcy and we took that loan, dad was more and more ornery. He didn’t lose his temper or anything like that, but he was always sullen and sulking around the farm, trying to keep himself busy so he didn’t have to think about our problems.
Meanwhile, my mom just kept moving forward. That was the kind of person she was. She couldn’t stop moving for anything, or else risk drowning where she stood. I understood that about my parents and could see some of it in me. I liked to always be on the move, always trying to keep myself busy to combat anything unpleasant.
That was how my father was, and the whole money situation only made him worse. He felt like he was a failure somehow, because he couldn’t keep his farm going in horrible economic conditions. That just brought strain onto the whole family.
And that was why I left. I thought I could solve things, like if I worked hard enough everything would just magically right itself. Instead, the mafia wanted to sell me into sex slavery and I had been almost raped.
“I understand. But you’re doing good?”
“I’m great, honey. How are things over there? Good?”
“Things are great. I love my job, I love my friends. I’m out practically every day. I can barely keep it all straight.”
“That’s so good to hear.”
I hated lying to my mom, but what was my alternative? If I told her now, she’d just come out here and try to drag me home, probably making everything worse. She was just as stubborn as I was, and that wouldn’t help this situation at all.