Devin laughs, but despite eir earlier eagerness to get to the food, e’s not really eating, just kinda pushing stuff around on eir plate.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

Devin’s eyes widen, but e shakes eir head. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

We sit in silence for a moment before Devin says, “I’m actually going to run to the bathroom really quick.”

“Okay,” I say, but e’s already crossing the yard.

I pick up a crispy little croqueta and bring it to my mouth. Shit. Devin wasn’t kidding. They really are good, and strangely enough, they make me feel a little homesick. Or maybe it’s not home I’m missing. Maybe it’s the simplicity of things back then and the feeling that things would just work themselves out.

I clear my plate and check my phone. It’s just after four, and I have a missed message from Drew saying, Can’t wait to see you tonight. Don’t forget, 6 p.m.

Like, no shit. Did he think I was gonna show up at six o’clock tomorrow morning?

I sigh, slipping my phone back into my pocket. Devin’s been in the bathroom a while, but I don’t know if it’s weird for me to go after em. Hell, I don’t even know if I’m allowed in the house.

I wait a few more minutes to see if e’ll just casually stroll out, but once e’s been gone for fifteen minutes, I decide to check on em and make sure e’s not sick or something.

I walk over to the patio and slip through the sliding glass door into the house. The kitchen is beautifully upgraded, with an open floor plan that spills into a woodsy living room. Now, if I were a bathroom, where would I be?

There’s a hallway, and just before that, a little door. I decide to knock on it before pulling it open to find that it’s just a storage closet. I take a quick glance around to make sure no one’s watching me pardon myself before entering a fucking closet, and head down the hallway. I step out into the front entrance with vaulted ceilings and a ton of natural lighting. Jeez, it’s fucking beautiful in here.

And then I see the staircase. I take it up and look around. The door to the master bedroom is open, though I imagine Devin’s not in there. I continue down the hallway and find another bedroom, probably eirs. It’s simple and clean, the walls an olive green and the bed made up with little mouse-ear throw pillows. The bookshelf sits completely unkempt, and Devin’s pink uke sits on a desk next to an open laptop.