Chapter 5
The week flew by. Lelly would show up and vanish like smoke. Sometimes I’d text her to clear up stuff about the house, and she’d only reply the next day, like time stretched out for her. That shit started to piss me off, and deep down, I started agreeing with my parents when they suggested looking for somewhere else.
Even so, we set up to meet that Saturday afternoon. The plan was for me to check out the house and, who knows, maybe crash there for the weekend to get settled. But when I got to town and called, nothing. No response.
We spent the morning driving around, checking out other sorority houses. Everything felt off, cold, or way too pricey. In the end, we wound up heading to the house where she lived. Her dad had already talked to mine, and they were expecting us.
They were nice, polite, but there was this restrained vibe in everything they said. Her mom, especially, seemed uncomfortable. It was a kind of worry that wasn’t about her daughter — it was about me, for moving in there, but not like I was the risk or anything weird.
They said Lelly was still sleeping when they left, that she’d come home late from a party and couldn’t wake up. I pretended to get it, but inside, something twisted — a mix of disappointment and curiosity, like that girl was a puzzle I’d already started solving, and she’d deliberately wiped away the clues.
The three of them chatted in perfect sync. My dad and hers agreed on everything: price, rules, deadlines. My dad, as usual, had to make it all crystal clear — no drugs, no parties, and especially no guys in the house. Her dad nodded with this visible pride, like he was about to flash his badge to back up his speech about how he was a cop and liked everything straight and proper.
Me, already impatient, I left the adults sorting out the world and went to explore the room. Being there without her felt weird. The smell was hers, strong, sweet, and a little messy, clinging to the walls. Clothes scattered around, books stacked up, forgotten socks. Total chaos that was gonna be a problem down the line.
I opened the closet door, remembering there was a mirror inside. The reflection caught me off guard — messy hair, curious eyes, a hint of nerves. But what really grabbed me was a photo stuck in the corner of the mirror: her, hugging another girl, both smiling, sun and sea in the background.
“Ah… that must be the one that made her come to this college,” I muttered, a bit bitter.
My phone buzzed. Video call.
It was her.
I answered. Lelly popped up with her face all smushed, sitting on a long-distance bus, wiping sleep from her eye with the back of her hand.
“Fuck, my parents didn’t wake me up…” she grumbled, her voice raspy.
“They said it was you who wouldn’t get up, girl!” I shot back, not hiding my irritated tone. “Where are you?”
“I’m on my way there, I’ll be there in two hours.”
“Hold up.” I stuck my head out the door. “She’s coming, says she’ll be here in two hours,” I announced.
Her mom made a face like she didn’t approve. Her dad just sighed, resigned.
“So, did you guys sort everything out?” I asked.
“We did,” my dad replied.
“So… I’m gonna live here?” I asked, almost not believing it.
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s all good,” her dad said.
My dad confirmed with a nod. And I went back to the phone.
“They sorted everything out, I’m gonna live here. Should I wait for you? What do we do?”
Lelly yawned, leaning back in the bus seat.
“I’m gonna stop by Nana’s first.”
The connection dropped for a second. I stood there, staring at the black screen, my heart split between relief and unease.
“Nana’s?” My question came out as disbelief, a jealousy that was building and I had no right to feel. I just tried to rein it in and took a deep breath.
“Yeah, Nana, my ex, you don’t know her, but it’ll be quick, I just wanna grab my stuff.” She looked out the window and back at the phone. “Don’t get jealous.”
“What jealousy, girl, you’re crazy, I got nothing to do with your life.” I said it almost showing the irritation I didn’t want to.
“I’m gonna sleep a bit more, go grab something to eat, take a walk, when I’m almost there I’ll call, ask my dad for his key, then I’ll get him a new copy.”
I hung up the phone and headed to the living room; I didn’t even wanna stay there anymore — what if that wild one changed her mind again?
I went back to the living room without any energy. My dad didn’t even notice my mood.
“Honey, go grab your stuff from the car, we’re wrapping up here.”
“Yeah… I don’t know if I wanna stay anymore,” I said quietly, looking around, kinda unfocused. “I was supposed to meet up with her, but now she’s gonna swing by who knows where.”
I avoided saying the “where” was her ex’s place. What if her parents didn’t know? Dragging someone out of the closet like that would be a huge fuck-up.
Her mom crossed her arms, tossing out a comment like she was throwing wood on a dying fire:
“Sweetie, it’s up to you, but look… I’m her mom. My daughter changes her mind like the wind changes direction. Just some advice.”
That stopped me cold. Her own mom throwing her under the bus, right there in front of everyone. Total fuck-up. My dad noticed my discomfort — he shot me a quick, heavy look, like “don’t say a word.”
I stayed quiet for a bit, thinking. Then I let it out:
“You know what? I’m gonna stay. That way I can get used to the town, take some walks, see what it’s like.”
“That’s it, honey. Do that.” My dad replied, satisfied, clueless to the mess inside me. “Just don’t wander around alone at night without knowing anyone around here, okay?”
But the truth was different. I didn’t wanna check out the town. I wanted to see her. I was anxious, my body impatient, this hot, possessive thing growing in me. It wasn’t exactly a crush. It was something else — deeper, more dangerous, and I already knew I was gonna get my heart broken over it.
I grabbed my stuff from the car. My dad and her dad helped carry everything in quick. It wasn’t much, but it saved trips back and forth. We said goodbye. I was alone. My new home.
Being there with no one around felt strange. The silence bugged me. I took a slow walk around, touching the edges of the place. Opened one door, then another. Kitchen cabinets, bathroom ones. Curiosity poking at me. A little devil whispered in my ear: “you got time… go snoop around.”
“Holy shit, going through the girl’s stuff is a bad idea,” I crossed my arms in the middle of the living room, arguing with myself. “But a little info won’t kill anyone, right?”
I felt my heart tighten. My breathing got short. Adrenaline heated my skin. I locked the door from inside and slid the bolt. Even if she showed up, she’d only get in if I let her. I wasn’t getting caught.
I bolted to her room.
First thing, I checked the ceiling and corners like a paranoid freak looking for cameras. Nothing. I knelt in front of the closet, hand on the first door. Opened it.
“Whoever hides something, hides it high or low… and she’s short,” I muttered, already feeling around.
I pulled out the bottom drawer. Ran my fingers under the clothes, looking for lumps. Found one. A little bag. Inside, toys. A vibrator, a dildo, and one of those with WiFi that I’d always wanted to try. Condoms — probably for using with the toys — and a warming lube.
“Why hide this when you live alone? Habit?” I thought, amused.
The middle drawer had panties, bras, bikinis, tiny pieces. Pretty, but nothing special; I had better stuff. I looked around, listened to the silence, went up top.
The top drawer had a stack of cash. A lot to leave at home. I put it back without a fuss. What hooked me was something else: a black planner, looking like a half-hidden diary tucked between the clothes. I opened it.
“Who writes in a diary these days?” I smiled, already flipping through. “The same person who bitches that I don’t use video calls.”
It was mostly drawings and random thoughts. Sometimes shopping lists. The lines were beautiful. Stylized nudes. The same woman over and over in different poses. I half-searched for the girl from the photo stuck on the mirror… hard to say if she was the muse. I flipped down to the days when we met. And I saw it.
It looked like me.
It was me.
A caricature done on impulse, but with the hand of someone who knows what they’re doing. My hair, the curve of my nose, the tense mouth I make when I overthink. Below, written in pen:
“Of everything I’ve done, fate is kind and lets me start over,
oh goddess, give me strength not to fuck it all up again.”
I stood there frozen with the diary open, the room breathing around me. Her scent in the air. The drawing of me on the paper. And in the middle of my chest, this insane urge to stay.