Right Place, Wrong Time

26. Sunlight and Storms

For the most part, Lauren had been doing okay since starting back at school. Her friends showed up for her, Joey now included, and she would say she managed well. But it always felt worse when she was alone at night, and between the stress of midterms and stress about what the hell she was playing at with Joey, she was often awake into the late hours, body humming with anxiety, her mind racing in a way that couldn't be calmed with her usual routines. The less she slept, the worse she felt, and it became harder and harder to go to class each day or to laugh with her friends.

One particularly bad night she sat up in bed, running her hands through hair that was tangled and messy from hours of tossing and turning, and scrubbed her hands over her eyes. There wasn't a sound from the rest of the house, that total silence that only existed in the predawn hours. With sleep still eluding her, she knew it was pointless trying to force it, and instead tugged a sweatshirt over the tank top she'd gone to bed in and tiptoed down the stairs. The timer on the microwave glowed 2:49 in neon green.

While she didn't want to wake the whole house, baking was one of her comfort activities and the only thing likely to give her any hope of peace tonight. As lightly as possible she laid bowls and trays on the counter, working only by the light from the oven as it preheated. Though she often hated mixing by hand, she needed the repetitive physical action, and allowed it to lull her into a state of calm. Cookies; something simple and quick that she could make in her sleep. She'd be able to eat one — or however many it took for her to feel better — then go back to bed for a few more hours.

Once the dough started to come together, she dumped in chocolate chips by the cup, a necessity right now. She'd only just slid the tray into the oven when she was startled by a soft tap at the door. Who on earth was coming by in the middle of the night?

In silence, she crept to the window, trying to see the face of the person who had knocked, but it was in shadow. She backed away again, in case they looked in and saw her. Scenarios flashed through her mind, none of which involved opening that door. But then she saw the person walk away, their face finally lit by the streetlights, materialising a scenario she hadn't thought of that definitely did involve opening the door. She ran to it, and the figure turned immediately at the sound of it opening.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed at Joey, even as she beckoned him inside. "Were you trying to scare the shit out of me?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I did text first."

"I left my phone upstairs."

"It was a badly thought through idea," he admitted.

"What are you even doing up at 3am?"

"I could ask you the same question."

All her reasons rose up in her mind and she turned away to peer through the oven door at the cookies though she knew they weren't close to done yet. The urge to tell Joey was overwhelming, but so were the tears burning at the back of her eyes, and she knew it wouldn't take much for her to break completely.

He let her lack of a response slide and answered himself. "I got up in the middle of the night for water, but then I saw the light from your kitchen. It could have been any one of you, but..."

"I was most likely to be cooking?"

He shrugged, smiling. "So I texted to ask if you were okay. When you didn't answer, I was actually worried you'd left the oven on and your house might burn down in the middle of the night."

"Thanks for looking out," she said. She gestured at the oven. "Now just seemed like a great time to bake some cookies. You should stay until they're done."

"What other choice do I have, after coming all the way over here?"

She slid a mixing bowl out of the way and pushed herself up onto the counter. Joey slid up next to her, her hip pressing into his leg. The darkness barely broken by the light from the oven somehow made her feel both exhilarated and safe at the same time.