“I was thinking we could go grab some pizza for lunch,” he suggests, and Dylan quickly changes his mind.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he says. We drive back to Justin’s, then park the car and walk to the restaurant.

“Oh, can we take it home and watch another movie?” Dylan says, and I look at Justin.

“I like that plan a lot,” he says. “What do you say, sweetheart? Want to take it to go?”

“A movie and pizza,” I say to them both. “Yes, please.”

We order the food, and they tell us it’s going to be about thirty to forty-five minutes, and they will bring it over. We walk back to the apartment and make our way back to his place.

“Okay, it’s my turn to pick a movie,” Justin says when we walk into the apartment, and Dylan groans. “You chose two yesterday.”

“But one was Mom’s pick,” he says, going to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water as if he lived there.

Justin goes to the fridge, grabbing his own water, and then hands me one. “Thank you,” I mumble and try to ignore whatever is going on inside me. “I’m going to go change,” I tell them both and escape to the room, grabbing the clothes I had on yesterday and go to the bathroom.

I splash water on my face and look at myself in the mirror. “You have to stop this. Nothing good is going to come from this,” I tell myself. I slip out of the dress and look at myself in the basic white cotton bra that I’ve had for four years now, the cups are not even there anymore and the wires that went under the bra were tossed away somewhere a long time ago. The white cotton panties that I have. The same four pair that I wash and rewash. “Stupid,” I tell myself. “Stupid to believe this can go anywhere.”

Tomorrow, tomorrow I’m going to get my ass in gear and look for another place.

I slip on the shorts and shirt and walk out of the room and see Justin sitting on the bed. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I say, not making eye contact as I place my folded dress on the top of the dresser. “I’m just …”

“Look at me,” he says, and I do. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just …” I say. “Dylan is acting like he lives here. He is coming and going to the fridge.”

“Good,” Justin says. “I want him to be comfortable here.”

“But it’s temporary,” I say. “Eventually, we will have to get our new place.”

He’s about to say something when the doorbell rings, and Dylan comes into the room. “Pizza is here,” he says, and I watch Justin get up and walk out with him.

“Thank you so much.” I hear Justin say. “Just put everything over there.”