Fragile

Chapter 7 - Internship

I sighed, finally typing back.

Me: Yeah. Okay.

Leah: Yeah?

Me: Yeah.

I typed out my address and sent it to her.

Leah: ...Cool. Be there soon.

The second I put my phone down, reality hit. Leah was coming here. To my apartment. Where I lived with a six-year-old boy.

I shot up from the couch, suddenly noticing everything—the blanket Riggs had left in a pile on the floor, the toy cars scattered under the coffee table, the faint smell of mac and cheese lingering from dinner.

"Jesus," I muttered, running a hand through my hair before getting to work.

I grabbed Riggs's blanket and folded it hastily, tossing it over the back of the couch like it had been neatly placed there all along. The toy cars? Scooped up and dumped unceremoniously into his room. I wiped down the kitchen counters, shoved stray papers into a drawer, and did a quick sniff test to make sure nothing in the living room smelled like six-year-old boy sweat.

Better.

But still... something was missing.

I glanced around, then grabbed a couple of candles from the shelf, lighting them quickly. One was vanilla, the other something labeled "ocean breeze," which I hoped would make the apartment smell like a cozy, put-together adult lived here and not just a single mom doing her best.

I checked my reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothing my hands down my shirt, debating if I should change—why did I care? This wasn't a date. It wasn't anything. Just Leah. Leah, who had once looked at me like I was something worth holding onto.

I took a slow, steadying breath before opening the door. And there she was.

Leah stood just outside, hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie. She gave me a small, hesitant smile, shifting on her feet like she wasn't sure if she should be here.

"Hey," she said, voice softer than I expected.

"Hey," I echoed, stepping aside to let her in.

She walked in carefully, like she was entering some uncharted territory, and the first thing she did was kick off her shoes, placing them neatly by the door.

I smirked, crossing my arms. "Still polite, I see."

Leah glanced up, confused. "What?"

"The shoes," I teased, nodding toward them. "What, scared I'll yell at you for tracking in mud?"

She huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "I don't know. Habit, I guess."

I raised an eyebrow. "You always this awkward when you walk into people's homes, or is it just me?"

Her face scrunched up, and she shot me a halfhearted glare. "I hate you."

I grinned, shutting the door behind her. "That's a strong reaction for someone who asked me if they could come over." Leah rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. "Come on," I said, leading her toward the living room. "You want a drink or something?"

"Nah, I'm good." She hesitated before sitting down on the couch, her body stiff like she didn't know where to put her hands.

God, she really was awkward.