*
Storie has never been to my apartment before and I guess there's no better time than the last time I'll see it. Today is officially the last day on my lease, I have to be out by six, but it's only lunchtime and we're nearly done. There wasn't much to pack up. I haven't accumulated much stuff in the time I've spent here. Most of the furniture came with the place, including the dodgy mattress that has probably been wreaking havoc on my spine, and there's not much stuff I'm sentimental about.
"I can't believe you've been here all this time," Storie muses as we throw the last of my stuff in the trunk of her car. She wipes her hands on her pants and swipes the back of her wrist across her forehead.
"Bit of a dive, I know."
"No, no, I meant here. As in, you've been so close this whole time. Two and a half miles away." She slams the trunk and straightens her back and gives me that soft smile. "But yeah, it's a bit of a dive, too."
"One you'll never have to step foot in again." I double check I've got all the important stuff – phone, wallet, passport, my bag with my laptop and an assortment of chargers – and key in hand, I head up to check it over one last time.
It's pretty sad how little time and effort it took to turn it from my home back into the soulless studio apartment it was when I moved in. I barely made a mark on this place, aside from a scratch on the wall from when I tried to move the bed, which I hope the landlord doesn't notice. I barely lived here. I was just surviving.
Now I'm on my way to thriving. I lock up and post the keys through the landlord's letterbox and jog down the steps to join Storie, and I sweep her into my arms in the middle of the sidewalk. A couple walking towards us harrumph and step into the quiet road to pass. Storie laughs and plants a kiss on my lips and nods at the car.
"Come on. Let's get you moved in."
*
Her apartment is the stuff of dreams. I think it every time I step through the door, and now it gets to be my reality. I hang my clothes in a space she made in her wardrobe and she clears a shelf of her bookcase to stack my handful of books, and she laughs at my shower caddy.
"You don't really need that," she says. "You're not in a dorm anymore, Liam. You can leave your stuff in the bathroom; no-one's gonna steal it. Well. I might, but I'll replace it." She waves a half-full bottle of shower gel at me. "If this is what makes you smell so good, I think I'll borrow it."
"Whatever you're doing is already working just fine," I say, tipping my socks and underwear into a spare drawer while she reorganizes the bathroom, and we meet in front of the living room windows that give me a sweeping view of the city.
Cleveland doesn't even rank in the top fifty biggest cities in the country and it overtook Detroit to become the poorest of the big cities, and I'm not going to pretend that Ohio doesn't have more than its fair share of problems, but it's home. I can see the water from here, bright January sun glinting off the surface, and I can feel the residual tension in my chest loosening its hold.
I know how lucky I am. My hand finds Storie's and I squeeze her fingers and we watch a plane high up in the sky until it disappears, only the white trail of a jet cloud left in its wake.
There are little touches of me in this apartment already. Mom gave me a fake plant when I first got my own place and Storie has put it in the middle of the coffee table; there are photos of my family pinned on the fridge; my throw is draped over the sofa. All the stuff that was just sitting around my place has somehow, in the space of minutes, found its home here.
I step closer to Storie, close enough to put my arm around her and feel the warmth of her skin under my hand. "Thank you," I murmur. She puts her hand over mine and rests her head on her shoulder.
"Pretty good start to the new year, huh?"
We watch as the sky turns grey and the rain starts to pour, heavy droplets splattering the window. The clouds set in and they hang low, obscuring our view, and somehow it's mesmerizing, watching as the city turns dark and the start of a storm seeps in.
"We could brave the rain and go out for lunch," Storie says when it hits two o'clock and I realize how hungry I am, "or we could make do with whatever I've got in the fridge and we could get under this blanket, and we could stick a movie on."
The rain gets harder. I can hear it slashing the window.
"I can't think of anything I'd rather do," I say.
Ten minutes later, we have sandwiches and chips and beer, and Storie has a smear of mayonnaise down her chin and a piece of lettuce stuck to her bottom lip.
"You're so fucking hot," I say, grinning as I swipe away the mayo with my thumb and take a bite of my own sandwich, stacked full of cheddar and salad and tomatoes. Half a tomato squirts when I bite into it, juice and seeds dribbling down my face and Storie laughs at me as I dab away the mess with the scuffed sleeve of my favorite sweater.
This is the epitome of sweater weather. Outside it's barely thirty-five degrees and I can't see anything out of the windows thanks to the rain, and I'm snuggled under a blanket with my girlfriend and all I want to do is hold her and put on an old favorite movie, one I've seen before so I don't have to pay too much attention.
Storie turns on the TV – it seems so weirdly adult that she actually has a TV of her own, that she doesn't watch everything on her laptop – and scrolls to her list of favorites. They're all comfort watches, the kind of movies you can see over and over again and you never get sick of them – The Parent Trap; Clueless; 13 Going On 30 – and Storie stops on Legally Blonde. "This all right?"
"Perfect."
"I always found Elle so inspiring," Storie murmurs as it starts. "I know she hasn't exactly had much hardship in life when she's a rich, skinny white girl, but everyone underestimated her and she proved them wrong. I must've watched this movie, like, thirty times when I was younger."
I've only seen it once before, when Annika was staying over in my room back when I still lived in the frat and I was still friends with Davis and he and Annika were still together. That feels like a lifetime ago. "Have you ever seen the musical version?'
"Yes." Her face lights up. "It came to Cleveland a while ago; Kris and I went together. It was so good. Have you?"
"Yeah."
"Here?"
"No, back in Cincinnati. My brother's theater youth group put it on a couple of years ago so I got dragged along. It was actually way better than I thought it was gonna be. Especially for a bunch of teenagers." I finish off my sandwich and drain the last of my beer, and I settle deeper into the sofa, pulling the thick blanket up to my shoulders. "I can't really remember the movie version, to be honest."
And that's not going to change, because we only make it twenty minutes in before Storie's hand creeps higher up my thigh, beneath the blanket, and I lace my fingers with hers, and when she looks at me during one of her favorite scenes, she doesn't look away.
We kiss like we've got all the time in the world.
The blanket makes this feel illicit, somehow, all the more exciting when Storie pulls it over our bodies as her hands roam over my body, and the movie is still playing when we end up horizontal on the sofa, giggling like kids in the dark with the blanket over our heads. I can't see what I'm doing and my sense of touch comes alive, my lips on fire each time they find hers.
And then the light roars back when Storie pushes the blanket off, her face flushed, eyes shining.
"Too hot," she says. "And I like to see your face." Her hands cup my cheeks and she pulls me down to her, and we don't take it any further than this, nothing more than clumsy hands slipped under sweaters.
The sofa is long and deep, plenty big enough for the two of us to lie across it, and we end up spooning, my leg thrown over hers and my arm around her, my hand splayed out over her sternum beneath her top. Her skin is so warm and soft and I can feel her heartbeat under my palm; I feel it quicken when I press my lips to her neck, my nose nudging her earlobe.
I could fall asleep like this. I almost do, but then the movie comes to an end. "I vote we have a movie night every week," I say, stifling yawn. It's only four but it feels so much later. The sun is sinking but thanks to the weather it's already dark and I don't want to move.
"Oh, absolutely," she says, sounding all sleepy. "Can we just stay here for a while? I can't think of a reason to move."
"Mmm." Beyond the TV, I watch the rain and I can see our reflection in the window; I can see that smile on Storie's lips, her eyes closed, her thumb rubbing the back of my hand.
When I was younger, I thought relationships were supposed to be all thrills all the time, all excitement and sex and action, and the frat didn't help that – all the guys around me were constantly hooking up like it was no big deal, only ever going on dates in bars and almost always with the impression they were going to get laid. I hardly had any experience – and I still don't – and there were times the guys pressured me to join in, to find someone I liked the look of and take her home. But that never made sense to me.
This is what makes sense. These moments of quiet. When we can be together with no pressure, luxuriating in each other's company, watching the rain because that's all we want to do. It's never been about sex for me – yes, it's great and I love it, I'm not gonna lie, but it's not the be all and end all – and it took me a long time to realize that. Really, it took Storie. Being with her, and realizing that my favorite moments are the ones where we're just us. Hanging out, cuddling, chatting, feeling safe with each other. Honestly, if she told me she never wanted to have sex again, I don't think it'd bother me much, as long as we could still be together.
I press my nose to her shoulder and inhale her scent and take a mental photograph of this moment.
"I love you," I say.
Storie let's out a quiet sigh, her breath ruffling the hairs on my arms. "I love you too."
*
We're woken from our afternoon nap by the buzzer going. It isn't afternoon anymore, well into evening by now. After seven already, if the clock is right. Storie, disoriented after dozing off, stumbles to the intercom and when she sees it's Kris, she buzzes him up. A couple of minutes later, he's in the flat.
"Hey, Liam," he says, with what looks like a genuine smile. I never spent much time with Kris before, and I can't really get a read on how he feels about me.
"Hi, Kris."
He holds up a bottle of champagne – the proper stuff, not just fizzy wine – and a six pack and says, "Little birdie told me today was move-in day, so I figured I'd bring a housewarming gift."
Storie laughs. "It's your apartment, Kris," she says, taking the alcohol from him. The wine goes in the fridge to chill down for later.
"Which I so kindly rent out to my favorite sister slash niece, and now her boyfriend too," he says. He gives Storie a tight hug and when I manage to unravel myself from the blanket, I get the same greeting. "All moved in, huh?"
"Yup. Turns out I don't have much stuff. It took us, like, forty minutes to clear out my place," I say.
"Liam's very tidy," Storie says. Kris looks at the blanket I've just left pooled on the floor and chuckles.
"I have to say, I'm really happy about this," he says. My eyebrows shoot up. I figured he was okay with this arrangement, that he was tolerating it, that he just wanted Storie to be happy. I figured I'd be his last choice. "I know this is a safe building but I've always hated the idea of Storie living alone."
"Hey. Is that because I'm a girl? Check your sexism, Kris," Storie says, swatting him with a towel.
"Honestly, though, Storie, yeah. I'm not gonna pretend that I think it's safe for a woman to live alone in the city." He holds his hands up. "So I'm glad you're not alone. And Liam – I'm glad you make Storie happy. She is very important to me."
"She's very important to me too," I say.
"I don't like it when you talk like I'm not here," Storie says. "But thank you both. I'm so glad to hear that my uncle and my boyfriend care about me. Very reassuring."
Kris ruffles her hair. "My love for you is insurmountable, Story, and I'll stop at nothing to make sure you're safe." He glances at me and I read every word in his expression, and I nod my understanding. I'm not going to fuck up again.
"Are you staying? Do you want a drink?"
"Nope, I'm actually on my way to see Isaac," he says. "I just wanted to swing by and see how things are going and leave you with something to celebrate your first day as roommates. And of course, to remind you that I have a spare bedroom if you need to get away from your boyfriend any time."
Storie rolls her eyes at him. "Well, thank you," she says. "We're doing great, and we'll be sure to think of you when we crack open the wine."
"That's what I like to hear. Okay, I need to dash, but I'll take you up on the drinks offer soon."
"Enjoy your date," Storie says. Kris winks and waves.
"You too."
*
The rain clears but the window is still streaked, turning the city's night lights into a floor to ceiling watercolor, shades of orange and yellow and red and blue swirling together and filling the apartment with a magical glow when Storie turns out the lights and hands me a glass of champagne.
"Happy New Year," she says, clinking her glass against mine. She takes a sip and lets out a satisfied sigh and she smiles out over the city. I stand behind her and rest my chin on her head, glass in one hand, my other arm holding her to me.
"Happy New Year," I say back, sipping the champagne and letting the bubbles fizz on my tongue until it's painful and I have to swallow. "The year of us. I can't wait to see what the world has planned for us."
"I don't know about the world," Storie says, "but I know what I have planned."
"Oh yeah?"
She turns around, her body pressed to mine, and takes another sip. When she kisses me, I taste the bubbles on her tongue. "I plan to be happy," she says.
Her words are so simple, so optimistic. I can't help but smile.
"That sounds like a pretty stellar plan. Mind if I join you?"
"The plan doesn't work without you," she says, resting her hand on my chest. Her head follows and when I bow my head, my lips meet her hair. "Liam?"
"Mmm?"
"I'm in this for the long haul," she says quietly, my sweater muffling her words. "You moving in with me, I'm not doing this lightly."
"I know," I say, though I didn't, not fully. It puts my mind at ease. "I know this is a huge step. But I'm so ready to live with you. I'm so ready for us to take our next steps together."
She leans back and meets my gaze, and there are a hundred thoughts and feelings swirling in her irises but she doesn't say any of them out loud. She just finishes her glass, and laces her fingers with mine, and pulls me towards her room. Our room.
*
i find it so hard to end books! sorry for the delay! (this isn't the end yet ofc but we're very close and idk how to wrap up stories ever!)