Page 259 of Stay Scared

“All right.”

Then he leaves the bag alone.

For Owen, that qualifies as romance.

Cade’s education involved more doors.

The first time I asked him to leave my apartment after we started seeing each other again, he stood in the hallway for several seconds looking like the concept had personally insulted him.

Then he left.

He did not circle the block. He did not send food, invent a reason to return, or decide that enough time had passed because he was tired of waiting.

Two days later, I texted him.

Come over.

He arrived eleven minutes later with pizza dough in a container under one arm.

He never mentioned how fast he must have driven.

I never asked.

Ash took longest to understand that equal ownership meant I could tell him no inside a building carrying his fingerprints on almost every wall.

Our first serious argument as co-owners lasted forty-three minutes and ended with me rejecting an entire room he had spent six weeks designing.

He stared at the plans.

Then at me.

Then back at the plans.

“You are wrong.”

“Possibly.”

“You are still rejecting it.”

“Completely.”

Ash spent the next ten minutes attempting to discover whether shared ownership contained some obscure procedural mechanism by which he could overrule me.

It did not.

The room never got built.

He complained about the loss for nearly a month and eventually admitted my replacement was better.

I remember that admission because I made him repeat it.

Living together part of the week developed the same way.

Nothing transformed cleanly. Cade still needs to be reminded that wanting access does not create it. Owen still notices too much. Ash remains personally offended whenever democracy reaches the design floor.

I still keep my apartment.

Sometimes I sleep there alone because I want to.