Page 81 of Electric Touch
I get a parking spot a couple of buildings away from hers. We head inside, and I tuck my hands into my pockets. She was quiet on the drive over. At least six times, I attempted to start a conversation but chickened out. We take the stairs as it’s only two floors up and I follow into her apartment.
She flicks the lights on as she closes the door. I look around in surprise. Her space is nothing like I imagined it. I’d figured it would be all clean lines, with white furniture and abstract art. Shows how much I know.
The walls are painted midnight blue and the wooden floor is pale with dark wooden knots running through it. Against one wall is a brown leather sectional, with mismatched cushions and a thick patchwork throw blanket hanging over one arm. A cool old fireplace takes up a lot of space on the wall opposite the couch. There’s an antique mirror over it and quirky copper wall lights on either side. I grin at the giant cactus by the window with fairy lights strung around it. It’s not the only plant in the room. A row of bookcases, fully stocked, stand beside the fireplace.
Adrestia drops her keys into a blue and white ceramic dish. “Coffee?” she asks, kicking off her shoes.
“Sure,” I say, walking to the fireplace to look at the rows of framed pictures on the mantelpiece. No two frames are the same, but there are smiling faces in all of the photos. Mostly her family and Apollo and Sasha. There is one of an older woman, grinning while holding up two steins of beer.
“That’s Yaya Effy,” Adrestia says. She’s standing in the archway that leads to a kitchen. “Apollo’s grandma. She raised him and looked after us a lot when we were little.”
I nod and follow her. The kitchen couldn’t be more different from the living room. Galley style, with mint green walls, and white cabinets with marble worktops. At the end of the room is a fitted L-shaped corner booth with a square table. A huge circular lampshade hangs above. Small spotlights light up the rest of the room. I lean against the archway as Adrestia makes coffee.
“So, how did your show turn out earlier?”
At first I don’t know what she means. Then it clicks, and I laugh. She remembered, and she sounds interested. “I don’t want to break your heart,” I say. “But I got distracted, so don’t know how it ended.”
“Shame,” she smirks. “You shouldn’t go through life not knowing the secrets of bottle making.”
“It’s a travesty.”
“I probably have a book about it somewhere.”
I laugh and she finishes up making our drinks.
“So, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you’re not mad at me.”
“Mad, no,” she hands me a coffee.
“Then what are you?” She tilts her head. “Okay, this is on me. The aforementioned dick. I never should have walked away. I shouldn’t have ghosted you, but the longer it went on, the more I… Behaved like a teenage girl.”
“That is an accurate assessment,” she agrees and heads into the living room. We settle on the couch. Adrestia pulls up her legs and sits sideways. “So how are things between you now?” she blows on her coffee, staring into the mug.
“We haven’t spoken. She’s kept her distance.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Should I lie down?” I ask, insinuating I’m about to start a therapy session.
“Not yet.” She eyes me over the rim of the cup.
“Does that mean there will be some lying down at some point?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“How well you apologise.”
“I’m super fucking sorry.”
Adrestia laughs.
“I mean it though, all joking aside. I’ve spent the last week thinking about everything that’s happened. With Riley. The things I wanted six months ago aren’t the same things I want now,” I add with a frown. “I was hurt, sure. It’s hard to be around her, but it’s more difficult to see how she is changing as a person, not that we’re not together anymore. And it’s not on me to fix that for her. I’ve spent most of my life fixing things for Riley but, not anymore. It’s time I focus on me.”
Adrestia reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“It took me a while to figure that out and I am sorry I bailed on you. I shouldn’t have done that, you deserve better.”