Page 170 of When In Doubt

Luci looks around, taking in the two of us. She clears her throat.

“You know what, I think they were showing that new movie over at the theatre,” she says, letting go of me.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go, it sounds awesome!” She spins on her heel and starts walking in the opposite direction. “See you in a couple hours!”

“Luci!” I yell after her.

“Bye! I’ll text you before I come back!”

“Luci!”

“I’ll text!”

She jogs off around the corner, leaving me in the silence.

“She didn’t have to go,” a low voice comes from behind me.

I startle, whirling around. “Jesus!” Oscar’s just a few meters away. When did he get there?

“Sorry.” He moves forward a step, one hand reaching out, grasping, then falling. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You just made me jump.”

“I’m sorry, Freya.”

He’s not talking about startling me.

I frown, straightening my spine. My first thought is to roll over, to accept his ‘sorry’ and never bring it up again. But I know I don’t have to do that anymore. I’m allowed to be upset, even if it’s uncomfortable. “Where were you?” I ask, wrapping my arms around myself.

“At my mom’s. Fuck, honey, I’m so sorry I missed dinner.”

“I don’t care about dinner,” I scoff. “I just need to know what’s going on.”

“Can we go inside?” he asks softly.

“Why?” I snap.

He steps forward and rubs his hands up and down my arms. “Because you’re shivering.”

I hadn’t noticed. “I’m fine,” I say with a frown.

He looks down at my clenched fists. “Please?” he asks gently.

I sigh, softening. I don’t know why I’m acting like I’m angry, I’m not. I’m just freaked out, and it’s easier to stay mad than to face that I might be losing him.

“Alright.”

I lead him up the stairs. He stays a few steps behind, not like he usually does, and the distance makes my skin prickle. We don’t talk as I lock the door behind us, as we remove our shoes and hang up our jackets side by side. It all feels very domestic, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s about to walk out of my life.

In silent agreement we sit at opposite ends of the couch. I grab a blanket from next to me, pulling it around my shoulders. Oscar just stares me down. Why isn’t he saying anything? Is he waiting for me to talk?

“What?” I ask, not able to take it anymore.

“I’m kind of waiting for you to yell at me.”

“Why would I yell?”