N I N E
ANDY COMES INTO their life like a storm.
At least that's what it feels like to Hadley.
She's used to Dexter coming over for dinner, or dropping by at nearly midnight to talk to her about all sorts of things, or asking her to sleep over at his house to watch some movie or two in their living room couch, only to accidentally fall asleep with popcorn bits all over them.
She knows it's these things that make everyone think they'll end up together in the end, but they've never made a big deal of it. It's these things that make up their friendship and taking them away would be like taking the essence of their friendship away.
And that's exactly what it feels like to her when Dexter, for the third time this week, rushes out the shop as soon they close up.
"I'm bringing Andy to Jim's tonight," he tells her, "She badly needs to get a taste of their double fudge milkshake."
"Have fun," she tells him, knowing he would even without her saying so.
He's been taking Andy to places for the past three nights now. He'd leave as soon as his shift ends and show the next morning wearing a smile that can put the glare of the summer sun to shame.
He's skipping out the shop faster than she can properly say goodbye, his steps light and quick and alive. She watches his retreating back until he disappears from view before looking back down at the book she's reading.
She's been doing some advanced reading for some of her classes the coming semester. She'd looked up some recommended textbooks for their curriculum and convinced her mom to buy them in advance.
She tries to concentrate, but just when she's finally starting to forget about the whole thing with Dexter spending increasingly more time with Andy, Taylor comes out of the stockroom and sidles up next to her. He crosses his arms over the counter and deliberately gets into Hadley's personal space.
"Did Dexter leave early again?" Taylor asks her.
"Yes," she says but immediately edges away from him, refusing to look up from her notes to humor him.
She knows what's coming next, but she still can't help but feel exasperated when he goes and says, "Are you really going to let some girl steal him right under your nose?"
Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she snaps the book shut and gathers her things, arranging her notes in a neat pile. "If you have enough time to tease me about Dexter," she says, "then I'm guessing you have time to man the counter and take care of closing the shop up."
"I'm not kidding," Taylor says, straightening up when she makes a move to leave. "I mean, let's be real. Ikaw mismo. You yourself expect that you guys will end up with each other in the end, don't you?"
Hadley doesn't bother to answer this, just shakes her head and slips out the counter, clutching the textbook to her chest. "Tell mom I'm leaving early to study where you can't bother me."
He calls out for her to wait, but she ignores her, pulling the door open and letting it swing shut behind her to drown out his voice. She isn't really mad at him so much as she's peeved.
She'd be lying if she said she isn't anxious about Dexter choosing Andy over her, but she knows it's unfair for her to feel so. She knows this, but she can't help it. She can, however, choose to ignore these negative feelings.
After all, she's in no position to complain about Dexter putting her second.
Sadie's house is closest from the shop. She squints at the setting sun, almost tempted to go back into the shop to hide from the sticky, summer air. Hadley weighs the conditions in her head and eventually decides that she can manage a fifteen-minute walk if it means she can seek refuge from Taylor's teasing.
She's covered in sweat by the time she gets there, beads of it rolling down her neck as she waits for someone to open the door. It's Sadie who opens the door, and she immediately ushers Hadley in when she sees how tired she must have been to walk in this heat. Sadie takes her straight to the kitchen, grabbing a small tub of ice cream from the fridge and Hadley a spoon.
"Can you believe how hot it is?" she asks Hadley. "Good thing I stocked up on some ice cream when I went to the market yesterday. God, you should have seen Colin saw me shopping there."
"I probably don't have to," Hadley replies. "I can already imagine. What did you do to him this time?"
"Oh, you know. The usual," she replies, not bothering to hide the hint of mischief in her smile. "Where's Dexter?"
It's an innocent question, and Hadley can't blame her for asking. She and Dexter tend to come in pairs and asking one of them about the other is like second nature for everyone around them.
"Out with Andy," she says simply, keeping her eyes on the ice cream as she scoops out a spoonful.
"I thought their date was yesterday."
"I think he plans to take her out every night," Hadley replies, struggling to keep her voice flat.
Her friend doesn't say anything for a while, but Hadley can feel her staring. She does her best to ignore it but there when Sadie's pointed silence becomes unbearable, Hadley finally gives in and raises her eyes to her friend's. "What?"
Sadie looks down and nonchalantly digs her spoon into the ice cream. "I didn't say anything."
"Oh, just spit it out."
She doesn't hesitate. Putting her spoon down, Sadie turns to Hadley to regard her with a serious look. "When I joke about you guys getting back together, I'm not really joking. You know that, right?"
"I know," Hadley says, suppressing the urge to fidget in her seat. "But it's never going to happen, Sade."
"Only because you won't let it."
"I have a boyfriend," Hadley tells her, "and I'm happy. And Dexter's had, like, two girlfriends ever since we broke up, and if that's not enough proof that he no longer has feelings for me, then I don't know what is."
"What about your feelings?"
"I have a boyfriend," she repeats firmly.
"That doesn't mean you don't have feelings for Dexter," Sadie snaps.
Hadley freezes, feeling like Sadie had just sent a sucker punch to her stomach, knocking the air out of her and sending her stumbling back from the force, making it harder for her to retaliate.
Sadie's eyes soften when she sees the stricken look on Hadley's face, and when she speaks again, her voice is no longer as sharp as it had been. "Sorry. I know you—hate talking about this. It's just hard not to worry, because—honestly? I've always had this feeling that you've never really stopped liking Dexter."
The statement makes Hadley take a sharp breath. Even though Sadie always acted like she's simply waiting for Hadley to admit this, she never really said the words out loud before.
She knows that Sadie means well, but Hadley's kept her hidden for so long that it makes no sense for her to let the cat out of the bag now, especially when she knows it wouldn't make a difference anyway.
"I'm not in love with Dexter, Sade," she finally says. "Not anymore."
Sadie doesn't look convinced. She holds Hadley's gaze and stays like that for a few seconds. Hadley holds her breath, waiting for her friend to come up with an argument for this, but Sadie simply nods and looks down.
"Fine," she says, picking up her spoon almost too nonchalantly. "If that's what you want me to believe."
* * * * *
Dexter enjoys being with Andy.
Perhaps a little way too much.
In the past three nights they'd gone out, Dexter has had so much fun with her that he's beginning to hate having to drop her off at her aunt's house (where, he learned, she's staying with her mom and siblings) every night.
He's beginning to hate looking down at his wristwatch just to see that it's almost time for her to go home.
He's beginning to hate having to say "see you tomorrow!" when he'd much rather wait for tomorrow to come together with her instead.
But leaving with the promise of meeting tomorrow is the next best thing to that, so that's what he tries to do every time he has to say goodbye.
"Tomorrow," he tells her, "I'll take you out to my favorite spot in town."
He can already imagine it in his head: how her eyes would brighten at the sight of the graffiti paintings that always seemed to draw him in; how her lips would open in awe and how she'd turn back to him, wide-eyed and grinning, thanking him for bringing her there with him.
It plays out in his head like a movie trailer, and it's so good he can't wait to watch the actual movie itself.
But then she gives him an apologetic look and says the word "I can't tomorrow."
"Oh."
"Mom made plans," she tells him. "But Friday's good."
"Friday, then," Dexter says.
They work it out and finalize their plans, taking their time like they don't want the night to end just yet, but then it's time to go and time to wait for the next night to arrive, and though he doesn't want to, Dexter finally says goodbye.
"Sure you can make it through a day without getting your usual dosage of me?" he asks her just before she opens the door.
"I think I can," Andy replies with a hint of a smile. "Though I'd have to consult my doctor to make sure."
"Maybe I can call you or something," Dexter suggests, digging his hands into his pockets. "You know, just to be safe."
The smile finally grows into a grin, and Dexter can't help but mirror it.
"Okay," she says. "Just to be safe."
And then they're saying goodbye and she's retreating back into her aunt's house.
The night's magic refuses to fade away.
It's like he's overflowing with happiness; like someone casted a spell on him and he keeps remembering something Andy said, or something she did, and suddenly he's smiling for no reason at all.
It's been so long since he last felt this way, and he finds himself heading to Hadley's house just so he can talk to her about it. It's what he always does when this happens, feeling as though there's a need to spill some of the magic out before it can get a chance to drown him completely.
Besides, he feels as though it's been ages since they'd actually had an actual conversation. It has been crazy around the shop recently, with the influx of tourists and the big order they'd gotten.
They haven't had much time to talk.
And honestly?
There are times when he thinks it's better this way.
He feels guilty for having these thoughts, but he can't help it. Ever since she'd told him that she'd gotten back together with Josh, he's been finding it harder and harder to be in the same room as her.
Whenever he looks at her, all he can see is how she'd chosen to save her relationship with Josh, even after what he'd done to her, when two years ago, she'd so easily thrown what she and Dexter had.
It's unfair for him to think this way, and it's unfair for him to hold it against her. He knows this, and he knows it makes no sense for him to feel bad about something she'd chosen to do two years ago, so he wants this bitter feeling to go away.
He wants to go back to being content with what he and Hadley have now, because their friendship is a lot more precious than what they had before, and he doesn't want to throw it away just because she'd hurt his ego.
So he shows up at their house fifteen minutes before twelve with a dark choco drink from Coffee Overdose for him and Hadley to share in their porch swing.
At first, he worries that Hadley may be out with Josh again, just like she had been the last time he came by for a visit, but the light in her bedroom is open when he arrives.
She must have heard the rumble of Adrian's bike from a few houses away because she peeks out the curtain before Dexter has the chance to call her out. He gives her a smile she probably can't see from way up there and waves hello, lifting the paper bag from Coffee Overdose up for her to see.
Two minutes later, the front door opens and she comes out. Her hair's pulled up in a ponytail, a telltale sign that she's nowhere near sleeping yet. When he sees what she's wearing, he can't help but let a smile grow on his face.
"Nice shirt."
She looks down at her shirt for a second, and when she looks back up, she simply says, "There's a reason why I stole it."
It's one of Dexter's shirts. There's really nothing special about it—just a gray tee that's been washed so many times its print had almost completely peeled off—but the material's thin and light, so he liked sleeping in it.
Apparently, Hadley did too. She told him so when he let her wear it on one of the impromptu sleepovers. It's a little too big on her but though he pretended to put up a fight about it, he let her have it anyway.
"Here," Dexter says now, fishing out her drink from the paper bag.
She takes it, but then narrows her eyes at him. "Are you sure you got the right girl? My name isn't Andy, in case you got us mixed up."
"Oh, shit. I must have gotten the wrong house," he says. "Give that back."
"Too late," she says, wrapping both her hands possessively around the paper cup. "Sorry, Andy, but this one's mine."
He raises an eyebrow and smiles. "Is the drink a metaphor for me?"
"What on earth makes you think that?"
"Well," he says, "it's hot, for one thing."
A laugh bubbles past her lips, but she quickly clamps her mouth shut. Dexter can't help but smile when he sees her struggling not to laugh.
He misses her, he realizes. He misses talking to her and he misses hearing her laugh and he misses seeing her wearing his stupid old shirts because she looks fucking adorable in them, but honestly?
What he misses most is how he didn't have to think of Josh every time he looked at her.
He tries not to think of that—he really does—but it's difficult, so all he can do is try to push past any bitter thoughts he may have and do his best to make sure not to give them the capacity to ruin what they have now.
"Come in," Hadley says. "But don't be too loud. Everyone else is sleeping."
Dexter glances at the porch swing, where the two of them usually talk during his spontaneous visits. It's not something they'd verbally agreed upon, but it's how they'd been doing it for a long time now.
There have been couple of times when they would choose to take a walk around the block, or decide to spend their time snuggled under a blanket inside when it's way too cold for anyone to stay outside. Most times, Hadley would invite him up to her room instead so they can talk while she finishes up on whatever she's doing.
He follows her in. She doesn't turn the lights on as they go, and while he's been in this house enough times to know his way around it, he's not quite confident he can navigate through the dark. He sticks close to Hadley, one hand holding onto the hem of her (or, more appropriately, his) shirt.
"I'm going to trip on something," he whispers. "I guarantee it."
"No, you won't," she dismisses. "Careful. We're almost at the—"
Dexter's right foot catch on something. It takes him by surprise and he quickly loses his balance. He grabs onto Hadley by reflex, but she must have been caught off guard too, because the next thing he knows, he's falling forward and she's falling fast with him.
"—stairs," Hadley finishes with a wince.
"Fuck," he hisses out, slightly disoriented. "Are you okay?" he asks, but holds his breath when he realizes how close they are to each other.
His eyes have adjusted to the dark enough for him to see her wide eyes staring up at him like a deer caught in the headlights. She's sprawled uncomfortably beneath him along the first few steps of the staircase, and though his arms are braced on either side of her to hold up his weight, she was the one who'd taken the brunt of the fall.
He knows he should stand up, get himself together and help her up, but for some reason he freezes. He stays there, nearly breathless, his gaze locked with hers in the darkness.
Then his eye dart to her parted lips, and images of what happened between them two weeks ago surge into his thoughts without warning.
Before he can do anything he'll regret, a light flickers to life upstairs.
"Had?"
Dexter scrambles away from her, picking himself up just in time for Taylor to appear on the landing upstairs. His hair looks disheveled from sleep and he squints at them, eyeing Hadley suspiciously, who is just starting to get to her feet.
"I thought I heard something," Taylor says.
"We tripped," Hadley replies, one hand rubbing her elbow. There's a grimace on her face, but she says, "We're fine, though my hot choco wasn't as lucky."
Dexter follows the direction of her gaze and sees the paper cup in a pool of dark liquid, the plastic lid lying just a few inches away from it.
"Well," he says, "there goes the drink metaphor."
"What drink metaphor?" Taylor asks them, the last word butchered by a yawn.
"None of your business," Hadley snaps, then she turns to Dexter, not quite looking him in the eye. "I'll just clean this up for a moment. You can go on up."
Dexter would have offered to stay and help, but he's still flustered from what had just happened moments ago, so he nods, apologizes for the whole mess, and hurries up the stairs instead.
Just before he enters her room, Taylor says, "Dexter, as much as I believe I'd be a badass uncle and everything, I don't think now's the best time to—"
"It's not like that," Dexter rushes out, but for some reason, his face burst into flames. It's completely uncharacteristic of him, and he can only hope that Taylor's still too sleepy for him to catch sight of his flushed cheeks.
He bids Taylor a quick good night and immediately shuts himself inside Hadley's room.
As soon as he closes the door, he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He brings his hands to his face to rub it, pressing the balls of his hands to his eyes.
Jesus Christ.
What the hell is wrong with him?
He tries to calm himself, breathing in and out, reminding himself that he and Hadley agreed to erase that night from their memories and act as though it never happened. He repeats the thought over and over in his head, knowing it won't work but hoping it would anyway.
He doesn't know how long he's been standing there when the door opens. He whirls around to see Hadley stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her.
He finds that he's unable to look her straight in the eye. Not like this. The sight of her wearing his oversized shirt makes him think of thoughts he hasn't had for so long, not until the night they had sex, and he can't be here, with her, in a room late at night after that weird moment they'd just shared on the stairs barely five minutes ago.
"Shame," she says, oblivious to the turmoil that's taken over Dexter's mind. "I wanted to drink that."
The words are out of his mouth before he's even had time to think about them. "I have to go."
Hadley pulls up short. "What?"
"Mom just called," he lies. "Says I need to head home as soon as possible because she has a bad feeling about this night."
"Is everything all right?"
"Don't worry." He heads towards the door, making sure not to let any part of them touch as he rushes past her. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Hadley still looks confused, and partly terrified that something really might happen to him. It makes him feel guilty for lying, but he doesn't have time to worry about that, not when there are other thoughts plaguing his mind, thoughts that refuse to go away no matter how many times he has tried to shove them out.
He shouldn't be thinking back to that night.
He shouldn't be letting it confuse him like this, especially when Hadley's made it clear she wants them both to just forget it ever happened.
Things are bad enough between them as it is, and allowing himself to think about what happened between them will only worsen it. And he can't risk that.
He won't.
Not when he knows Hadley won't think twice about disappearing from his life the second things take a turn for the worse.