21

“Are you ready?” Arrick, wearing jeans and a hoody, under a denim jacket strolls across the guest room I have been using for the past few weeks in Amber’s apartment, effortlessly casual and utterly bored while waiting for me.

I fling the last of my clothes haphazardly into my case and try to zip it shut unsuccessfully, bulging crazily, and I have no hope of closing it. Arrick frowns, moves me over and pulls some of the rolled-up dresses out with a less than impressed brow dip at my packing skills. He folds them flat and places them in so he can at least close the case without much effort. He slides it down beside the other bags on the floor and watches me move to wander around aimlessly while checking for everything that is mine. I don’t want to have to come back here for anything I may have left behind once I am out that door.

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