paper rings (l.h.)

43

We were now a week into our rendezvous away from the country. Luke had been gone half the time, and I had already begun walking to different shops and cafes around town alone, just as I did before I met Luke. I hadn't touched upon that side of me in months, and I had not taken the time to enjoy being alone, enjoying the sound of birds (and cars) and the wind sighing through the trees. The skies were always sunny, always bright. I had to invest in some sunglasses from the surf shop a few blocks away from his house.

I had seen Crystal here and there when Luke invited me out to different concerts and PR events his label made him go to. I was exposed to new music, new non-alcoholic wine options, and new radio shows. But I spent most of my time alone when Luke claimed the boring part of his job took most of his day.

Hope you're enjoying your day, Luke will text me. I wish I was at home with you.

Not really, I would respond, although I was having a better day in some random park bench than I would be stuck in his apartment without him. I wish you were, too.

Each day, I traveled a little farther than the last. I let the sun turn my cheeks pink, and I welcomed the sweat that inevitably formed on my back. I had no reason to keep these excursions to myself, perhaps I enjoyed my time alone. Luke would only urge me to call Tanner, or wait until he got home to chaperone me to these places. But I didn't tell a soul.

He had left this morning around noon, not before covering my body in his kisses which could have sent a few noise complaints to our doorstep. It wasn't long before the mornings and evenings were my favorite parts of the day, and my mornings alone were solitary but spent in good company. I grabbed my favorite tea from the shop and began walking to the library.

The sun was shining bright enough to blind me as I walked an uphill street, my calves burning with each step I took. My dress sat barely above my mid-thighs, flowy short sleeves allowed the hot air to attempt and cool me off. My hair was tied above my head, and the cool AC hit my skin as soon as I walked through the double doors of the place. It was huge, very LA — tall ceilings, covered in intricate pieces and from local artists. The staircases were large, spiraling and wide. The architecture was a marvel itself, never mind the collection of books that seemed endless.

I lost myself in the fiction, in the fantasy and romance. I grabbed only what I knew I could read in the hour I allowed myself. I found books about John Wayne Gacy and Richard Ramirez, and sat at a table facing the window while sipping on my now half-melted chai tea.

I sped through my books, the nonfiction I flipped cover to cover through quickly and left the novels to be read as intended. Maybe I'd only get a chapter in, but I read anyway.

I read until my eyes burned, until I closed my eyes to allow them a rest when I hear:

"Mary?"

I glance up to see the brown-eyed Calum standing before me, backpack slung around his shoulder and white AirPods hidden beneath his hooded head. His eyebrows seem to be sewn together. "Hi, Calum," I manage to spit out after a half-jump. I close my book, my finger marking the page I had left off on.

"Richard Ramirez," he nods to the story I had just finished flipping through, my arms covered in goosebumps after they had just recovered from the heat outside. "You're brave for reading that in LA."

"Yeah, maybe," I say after a second, flipping my book closed completely once I was at the realization that my escapades away from the apartment without a chaperone were over. "I already know what happened. I don't know why I grabbed it."

"I get it," he nods, moving to sit on the chair beside me. "I often do that, too."

I ignore his eyes, stare at the red and gold book cover that I was just torn away from. My fingers running across the indent in the print cover. There was no way he wouldn't bring this up to Luke, seeing me here.