"He is not here."
"No, I'm just giving you shit..." She rolls her eyes, gesturing to the shadowy figure behind her. The curls are unmistakable. "Hey, he's your problem." She throws her hands up and walks away, leaving us standing in an incredibly awkward silence.
He jams his hands in his pockets, and I smirk a little as I realize what a challenge it must be in jeans that tight. "Is something funny?"
"Not really. I just... what are you doing?"
He shrugs. "I was in the neighborhood."
"In London."
"A short 11 hour flight."
"So what is it?"
"I got the picture you sent me."
"And that prompted a transatlantic flight to see me?"
"You looked pretty."
I wave dismissively and turn my back to him, not sure what to say. We haven't spent much time alone together in a while. I never thought I'd feel awkward around him. Right now I have absolutely no idea what to say. "It's still cold here," I say lamely.
"You should come home. It was 80 when I left."
"What on earth has gotten into you?"
"Maybe I miss you."
"You're not allowed to. That's totally out of bounds."
"That doesn't mean I'm here to get you in bed. I just got the feeling you needed a friend."
"I have friends."
"Stevie."
"I don't need you to come put the pieces back together, Lindsey. I'm fine." Even as I say the words, my voice shakes a little and I hate him for making me feel weak.
"Fine. Then hang out with me. Maybe I need a friend." I'm a little disarmed by the honesty in his voice and I raise an eyebrow at him, obviously skeptical.
He's staring at me intently, and I am still trying to process the fact that he actually came here to see me. What the hell is he on about? I sent him a silly selfie from my balcony. He knows this hotel, where I stay. I just wanted to say hi. I'd be lying to myself if I said it wasn't because I missed him, but still. It was innocent. Sort of. Maybe it wasn't. Damn it, Lindsey. "So what do you want?"
"I hadn't really thought that far ahead. Hotel's booked, so I'm staying in your room though.
"You can't stay here. Are you crazy?"
"You're going to throw me out at 2am in the rain to find another place to stay."
"I just... of course not."
"Thanks," he said slyly. "I just fly halfway across the world and you aren't even going to give me a hug?"
"Thanks for coming to find me," I say, relenting a little and walking into his open arms. "How did you manage to get away? Doesn't she put you on house arrest once you're off the road?"
"Eh, I'm a free man," he says vaguely, shrugging his jacket off and slinging it across the back of the chair. "I'm here for as long as you are."
Something seems a little off, but somehow pressing him for information feels out of bounds. I decide to let it go for tonight. "Please tell me you have a joint for me."
"Of course," he said, smirking. "A little wound up, are we?"
"I'm in a bit of a weird place," I admit, holding my hand out as he digs through his bag. He hands me a lighter and I collapse onto the bed, my legs folded up under me as I take a long pull. He joins me, and we sit across from each other, alternating drags for a long time in complete silence. It's comfortable, though. The initial awkwardness has melted away now and we're back to being friends.
Finally, we're laying side by side, staring at the ceiling. The dim lamplight makes me feel a little less vulnerable, and my anxieties have given way to the high. Normally I'd start to write or play the piano or something right now. Instead, I lay totally still, enjoying having him right next to me. "What do you mean you're in a weird place?" I wondered how long it would take him to ask that question. I exhale slowly, watching the smoke swirl above my head while I think about how to answer his question.
"Coming off a tour is really lonely." He nods his understanding, which I sense more than see. "You don't go home to an empty house."
"No, I get it. I'm alone, too."
