In Your Dreams (Falling #4)(34)

“I’m sorry. We should have called first,” I say, putting my arm around Lane, whose shoulders are about as sloped as an anthill now.

“He’ll be home soon. It’s…it’s fine; come on in,” the guy says as we’re turning to leave.

I’m about to argue that it’s all right when Lane shrugs off my hold and steps around me, into the dark apartment. I have no choice but to follow.

“Okay, thank you,” I say, my lips tingly with the awkward smile I’m forcing on my face.

“I’m Eli,” the man says, rubbing his right hand dry from the soda he was holding, but has now switched to his left hand. He holds his palm out to shake, and I do.

“I’m Murphy,” I smile.

His eyes squint and a smirk begins on his lips as he points a finger at me.

“Yeah, you’re the chick with the song, right?” he asks, stumbling ahead of me toward the couch. He quickly grabs a few open gaming magazines and closes them, setting them on the coffee table before picking up no less than six empty beer cans. He shakes out a blanket that’s wadded in the middle of the sofa and spreads it out.

“Have a seat,” he smiles, gesturing to the couch.

Lane leaps into the far corner of the sofa, and I slide to sit close to him, a little self-conscious that we’re soaking his couch and the knit throw he put down to protect it.

“So, the song?” Eli asks again.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I smile.

“Casey’s going to make my sister famous,” Lane says, his cheeks like cherries and his smile beaming. I glance from him to Eli and shrug, hoping he understands that my brother is sort of an optimist. He sees the world in bright colors, full of possibilities. I wish I were more like him. I’m working on it.

“I bet he is,” Eli says softly. He isn’t making a joke or mocking us; he’s being kind.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Eli asks, and before I can answer, Casey’s voice booms from behind me.

“No more shots, man. I can’t drink any more of that shit in the bottle today…” he trails off as he steps into the living room, a plastic bag looped around one arm. His eyes land on me with surprise.

“I’m sorry. We should have called,” I say, tucking the folds of my skirt under my legs nervously. “We can go…if you have plans.”

“No!” he cuts in quickly. Eli chuckles and walks into the kitchen, and I catch Casey glaring at him briefly before looking back at me. “No, I’m glad you’re here. I uh…I got some sandwiches from the store. Houston…he works there, and he makes them at the deli. I didn’t get enough, but they’re big, so…”

I stand and start to open my mouth to protest, feeling awkward about him offering Lane and me part of his dinner, but the words fail me at first. I’m tired, and it’s hard to articulate when I’m tired sometimes, so I stutter. The i sound of it’s okay all that I can repeat while my mouth stretches awkwardly. Casey’s eyes flinch when it happens, and I stop speaking immediately.

“You know what? They can have mine. It’s cool. I was actually about to head out,” Eli says.

His gesture is sweet, but it only makes me feel worse, because I can tell he really wasn’t planning on going out. Before I can stop it, though, Lane is already thanking them both and taking the bag from Casey to take into the kitchen.

“Your brother’s pretty comfortable around me,” he chuckles.

“Yeah,” I nod, a tight smile holding in the overwhelming need to vomit my nerves all over the living room.

Silence settles in again, and Eli, Casey, and I are standing around the small coffee table in their living room—them with hands in their pockets and me with my skirt bunched in my fists at my side. At one point, Eli actually whistles and sways forward, which makes Casey and me laugh.

“All right, kids. This looks like a fun night, so…you three have a good time, and I’ll see you in the morning, Case,” Eli says, patting his friend on the shoulder as he moves over to the wall behind their front door. He pulls a bike from a metal rack mounted on the wall and walks it outside, closing the door behind him.

“He’s going for a bike ride?” I ask, my eyes fixated on the now shut door.

“Yep,” Casey says.

“In the rain?” I ask.

“It appears so,” he says.

It takes me a few seconds to flit my eyes in his direction, and when I catch his looking over me, he turns away quickly.

“What’s in these?” Lane yells from the kitchen.

“Turkey and ham. Pick your favorite, and Murphy and I will split the other,” Casey answers, one side of his mouth raised in a smile at me. “I hate ham, so I hope he picks that one,” Casey whispers.

“I’ll take turkey. Thanks, Casey,” Lane responds, and Casey laughs silently along with me.

“Sounds great, buddy,” he says loudly through stifled laughter.

Eventually, the funny fades and his expression shifts into something more understated. There’s a hint of smile there and his eyes are sort of dancing. They can’t seem to leave mine, and the scrutiny makes me hot and fidgety until I finally have to look away and join my brother in the kitchen.

“Sorry for the surprise visit. Lane wanted to see some of your equipment, and…” I start, but Casey interrupts.