Chapter 6: What if I'm a Serial Murderer?

I’m in Addison Grey’s apartment.

I know I only just met her today, but I feel as though I’ve been crushing on this girl my entire life. It’s the same butterflies in my stomach I got when Natalie A. invited me over to her place to “help her study” when I was in 8th grade. My heart is racing in my chest. I’m scrutinizing every single part of me: my clothes, my hair, my posture, my voice, all of it.

But Addy just gave me that warm, knowing smile, and somehow—unlike the night I ran away from Natalie A’s house in tears—I know she’s accepting me. Fully.

How does somebody even have that effect after just a single day?

She emerges from her bedroom wearing a one-size-too-large Nirvana tanktop and a pair of boyshorts that leaves her legs bare, and I try and fail to keep my gaze level. As she stretches, I catch sight of unshaven armpits and more than a little bit of sideboob. “All yours,” she says, leaving the bedroom door open to change in.

“I don’t, um, have much in the way of clothes,” I admit. “Pajamas, I mean.” Sure, just pajamas. It’s not like I brought only a single backpack filled with maybe three outfits and anything else I could grab.

“Oh. No worries. You can grab something of mine.” She motions to her dresser. “Top drawer’s got sweatpants and shorts, drawer under that for shirts.”

I nod and take a step into her bedroom. The door closes gently behind me. Okay, now I’m in Addy’s bedroom. To borrow her clothes. No big deal. Definitely not freaking out a little.

Her bedroom is as I expected—covered from floor to ceiling in band posters, movie posters, and what looks like a series of anti-fascist posters from an old anarchist magazine. I open the top drawer of her dresser and grab the first pair of sweatpants I find, my fingers brushing against a lacy pair of panties. I break out into a sweat. My face must be burning hot right now. I push the panties down to the bottom of the drawer so she doesn’t think I went browsing through her underwear. At the bottom of the drawer, my hand finds purchase—something hard and cylindrical and kind of—

Ooops. I drop the dildo at about the same time I pull it out, a quiet yelp emerging from my lips as I do. It thuds onto the floor. “Everything alright in there?” Addy calls out to me.”

“J-just fine!” I yell back, picking up the—wow, that is a big one—it’s one of the kinds with a second little nub of plastic that presses up against your clit while you’re—nope, not thinking about that right now—and I frantically stuff it right back where it came from. Then it’s onto the next drawer, from which I grab an overly long Misfits t-shirt and call it a night. My bra comes off (yes! finally!) and I worm my way out of my skinny jeans, swapping out my panties for boyshorts from my backpack. I emerge in my new ensemble and catch the sight of my beet-red face in the hallway mirror.

I step into her living room, which is also part kitchen, and find Addy sprawled on her couch, a movie already queued up on the TV across from her. She pats the seat next to her, but her face skews in concern when she glances my way. “Is it too warm in here?” 

“Huh?” Good job, Lum, you’re so godsdamn eloquent.

“The heat. You’re sweating. I like to keep it up pretty high, is it too hot for you?” She asks, and now that she mentions it, it’s kinda sweltering in here, and no, I’m not thinking about how it’s because of how ludicrously hot Addy is, thank you very much. How does she lie under blankets with her thermostat set to eighty?

I shrug. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

One of her eyebrows shoots up her forehead, but she relents. “Well, just let me know. Happy to turn it down a little. Now c’mere and talk to me. Why’re you all the way out here with no money and only a backpack to your name? Is everything all right?” Her voice is thick with concern. I can tell she’s not trying to pry. She just wants to know if I’m okay.

“Not really,” I say, slumping onto the cushion next to her. I practically melt into the leather of her couch. Gods, I could sleep right here, after the day I’ve had. “It’s a long story.”

“I hear that. Well, I’m here for you if you want to give me the short version. But no pressure.”

I sigh, then take in a long breath. Here goes. “I kinda…broke up with my girlfriend, quit my job, and then got into a big fight with my family and told them to go to hell?”

Addy blinks. “Whoa. That’s a lot. All at once?”

“All at once,” I reply. “On the same day. That was…last Wednesday,” I say, counting days on my fingers. Just five days ago. Five days after my life blew up, and here I am.

“Did something happen, or…was it just not working out for you?”

I shrug. Something indeed happened. Something to the tune of my ex cheating on me, my boss chewing me out for something that wasn't my fault, me quitting in a huff, and then my parents blaming everything on me because “well, clearly she wasn’t getting what she needed out of you,” and “you're throwing away your future” and so on. 

Whatever. Fuck them. Fuck all of them. “I’m…not ready to talk about it.”

Addy’s face falls—not because she doesn’t get to know, but because of the tremble in my voice, the hurt that must be showing on my face. “Lamb, can I hug you? You seem like you need a hug.”

I nod vigorously. Gods, I could use a hug. Squeeze the life out of me. Crush me please.

She leans in and wraps her arms around me. I rest my chin on her shoulder and let myself weep. It all comes rushing back: discovering the truth, the fighting, the arguing, storming off. I’d do it all again the same way if I had to go back. But it hurts all the same.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she whispers into my ear. Despite it all, I smile. Because no matter what shit happened to me then, now, right now, I get to be held by Addison fucking Grey. I sink into her, letting her warmth and her scent overwhelm me. And you know what? That does make things a little better. Just a little.

She’s so hot to the touch, it feels like a cold breeze when she lets go. “Well. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need while you get your bearings.” I begin to protest, but she places a finger on my lips. “Nuh-uh, Lamb. I insist. You need a place to stay right now, and I can provide. Besides, I like having company.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry, I intend to put you to work. You can help around the Rat & Raven for a bit if you like. That’ll cover things, right?”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Is this girl for real? “You’ve only just met me. What if I’m a serial murderer or something?”

Addy smirks. “If you’re a serial murderer, then you’re a damn good liar, because I’m pretty convinced you’re as harmless as they come.” She lets out a belly laugh while I pout. “I mean it as a compliment, Lamb.”

“I know,” I say with a sigh. “Look, I really can’t thank you enough. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I can’t even begin to pay you back.”

She shakes her head and places her hand on my knee. “Your company is enough.” It’s then I realize how close she still is to me. Her shoulder leans against mine. Her breath mingles with mine. My eyes snap down to her lips and back. Hers do the same. I imagine leaning closer, my lips meeting hers, her hand squeezing my thigh—Wait, what is happening right now?

I spring backward and hop to my feet. “I, uh, I should, um, wash up,” I stutter, then run to the bathroom. Smooth, Lum. Very smooth. I splash cold water onto my face and bury myself in a hand towel to hide my shame. Am I really trying to make out with this girl who is very obviously just helping me through a rough patch? I know that’s not what she’s expecting; she’s way too considerate and kind to just be exchanging a place to stay for a quick lay. Not that I haven’t been forced to do that very thing before, but this is different. I feel a connection here. Does she? I shake my head and give myself a gentle, but forceful slap. Stop doing that, I chide myself.

The rest of the night is not nearly as eventful. I return to the couch feeling stupid for wanting something so obviously wrong and zone out watching the sitcom Addy has pulled up. Before long, I’m starting to drift off, my eyes feeling heavier than the rest of my body. I vaguely remember Addy pulling my feet onto the couch and placing a pillow under my head. There’s the sensation of being wrapped in a cocoon, and I’m pretty sure I felt her breath on my forehead at one point, and then, I’m out.

The next morning, I wake to the smell of bacon wafting up from downstairs. I may have slept on a couch, but compared to Windy’s passenger seat, it’s a five-star hotel. Addy must have tucked me in after I passed out, because I don’t remember anything. You’d think I’d gotten tipsy or high on something, but no. Apparently just that exhausted. I clean myself up in the bathroom and fix my faded eyeliner, having forgotten to wash off last night. Then I bounce down the steep wooden steps into the kitchen of the Rat & Raven, where Addy is cooking eggs and bacon over her hot stove. She’s swapped out her pajamas in favor of a pair of baggy, black denim jeans, a My Chemical Romance with the sleeves torn off, and a red bandana that covers her hair. Damn, I love her style.

“Hey, you,” she says over the sizzling of the bacon. It’s impossible for me to not notice the way her eyes flit down to my bare legs for just a moment before returning to the stove. “Thought I’d get a head start on breakfast for you. You’re cool with pork, right? There was sausage on your sandwich yesterday, so I just assumed.”

I nod, a big dumb grin sprawling across my face. “Yeah, that sounds wonderful! Thank you so much.”

“No need to keep thanking me. I like cooking for people and helping people. Makes me feel good. Honestly, I should be thanking you for showing up on my doorstep. Been pretty down lately, so this is a nice change of pace.”

All this time I’ve been so focused on myself, I hadn’t stopped to even consider Addy might be going through a tough time herself. I can’t help but wonder what kinds of problems she might be facing—she seems so put together, so self-assured, landlord problems aside. My smile must have vanished without me realizing it, because she shakes her head and lets out a little chuckle. “Don't worry your pretty face about it, Lamb. I’ll be okay.”

Yeah, maybe you’ll be okay. But maybe I want to help out, too. Maybe I want to also hug you and feed you and reassure you. Is that weird? That I feel this connection with somebody I’ve only just met? It’s probably just my guilty conscience feeling like I should be doing something in return for all her kindness.

In that moment, the door to the kitchen swings open, and Val walks in. They’re wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a matching nondescript hoodie, sweating from top to bottom. No doubt they were out jogging or something. They take off a pair of headphones and give me an appraising once-over. “Why hello there. Lum, was it? I take it you’ve been…enjoying your stay.” They wiggle their eyebrows suggestively, and I realize with a startle that I’m still wearing nothing but a pair of boyshorts and Addison’s shirt.

“It’s not—we didn’t—” I stutter. Addy, for her part, just laughs under her breath.

“Relax, Addy texted me you’d be staying over last night,” Val explains. “I’m happy to pawn off some tasks on you. There’s a lot we’ve been meaning to get done around here, anyway. Maybe with three people, we can actually get some of it done.”

“Like wash dishes?” I jab.

“Hey, I’ll have you I’m a damn good dishwasher when I feel like it.”

“They’ve never felt like it,” Addy chimes in.

With a fake gasp of indignation, Val leaves the room. “You’re on dish duty forever, then!” they shout to me from behind the counter, then the sound of beans filling several coffee and espresso makers is all that can be heard from the front.

“So, you in for a little project?” Addison winks at me. “Don’t panic, it’ll be easy, just one of those things we tend to hate doing.”

I’m beyond happy to help. After everything she’s already done for me, I’m eager to repay the favor. I tend to feel guilty for everything—it’ll be nice to have something in my life I feel that I’ve earned. “Just leave it to me.”

“Great,” she says, motioning to an envelope on a nearby counter. In black sharpie, it reads: “HIGHWAY ROBBERY.” It’s fat with something not quite letter-sized. Bills?

“Rent,” she explains. “Gotta get that to Malcolm or he actually will follow through with his threats one of these days. And frankly, that’s the last thing Val or I ever want to do, so be a lamb and take it to him for us? I’ll send you the address.”

I gulp. Normally this would sound like an easy task, but the first thing that pops into my head is the girl from the library who shares Malcolm’s last name—Gelsper. Are they actually related? They look similar enough; same umber skin, same piercing blue eyes. What if she told him what happened in the library? What if he calls me a degenerate and kicks me out of his house or something?

Still, I can’t turn Addy down. I grab the envelope packed with money and rifle through it. “You really trust me with all this money? What if I just left with it?” This is easily enough money to get me to the coast. I feel shitty even thinking about it, but I could take this and run and be set for quite a while.

But Addy gives me the sincerest of smiles. “Nah. You’re not the type.” And that’s all there is to it; she genuinely trusts me with thousands of dollars. She really must think I’m harmless. I guess I can’t fault her there. I feel guilty for everything, even little things—if I really did run off with this money, it would haunt me for my entire life.

I give her a quick hug and then head upstairs to change. Time to face the music, or the Gelspers, or both.

---

Next Chapter!