STILL YOU(PART 5)- THE IDEA OF YOU

Lauretta spent entirely too much time thinking about Elias that week. She realized this on Tuesday morning. She was standing in her kitchen, waiting for her coffee to finish brewing, when her phone buzzed on the counter. She looked at it immediately. Then frowned. An email. Not Elias. She stared at the screen for a moment. Then looked around her empty kitchen as though someone might have witnessed her disappointment. "This is embarrassing." Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was him. Elias: Good morning. Lauretta smiled before she could stop herself. Lauretta: That's it? Three dots appeared almost immediately. Elias: Were you expecting something more? Lauretta: Maybe. Elias: Like what? She picked up her coffee. Lauretta: I don't know. Something thoughtful. There was a pause. Then: Elias: Good morning, Princess. I hope your day is beautiful and unnecessarily easy. She smiled. Lauretta: Better. Elias: Demanding. Lauretta: You like it. Elias: Unfortunately. She put her phone down. Then picked it up again. That was how it started. Not dramatically. Not with declarations. Just messages. A photograph Elias sent her of the sunrise from his balcony. A voice note from Lauretta complaining about a meeting that should have been an email. A message from him asking whether she'd eaten. Her responding that he was becoming irritatingly concerned about her wellbeing. His answer: Someone has to be. She stared at that message longer than she should have. Then typed: I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. His response came immediately. I know. Doesn't mean I don't want to. Lauretta put her phone facedown on the table. Then smiled into her coffee. By Thursday, Elias had become part of her routine. That thought should have bothered her. Instead, she found herself checking her phone before she got out of bed. She hated that. She hated that she liked it. And she hated even more that Elias seemed to know exactly what he was doing. "You've been smiling at your phone for ten minutes." Lauretta looked up. Her friend stood across from her desk, watching her. "I have not." "You have." "I was reading." "Something funny?" Lauretta locked her phone. "No." "Interesting?" "No." Her friend smiled slowly. "Oh." Lauretta narrowed her eyes. "Don't." "Elias?" "Don't." "Definitely Elias." Lauretta sighed. "I hate you." "No, you're happy." Lauretta looked back at her laptop. That was the problem. She was. On Friday evening, Elias called her. Lauretta answered on the second ring. "Hello?" "You answered quickly." "I was holding my phone." "You've been waiting for me to call." She leaned back against her couch. "Don't flatter yourself." "I wasn't." "You were." "I know." She smiled. There it was again. That confidence. Somehow, it annoyed her less now. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Nothing." "That's suspicious." "Why?" "You don't strike me as someone who does nothing." Lauretta looked around her apartment. "I've had a long week." "Then you need food." "I've eaten." "What?" She hesitated. Elias sighed. "That bad?" "I had crackers." There was silence. Then: "I'm coming over." She sat upright. "No, you're not." "Why not?" "Because you cannot just invite yourself into my apartment." "I didn't." "You literally said you're coming over." "To bring you food." "Elias." "Lauretta." She narrowed her eyes despite the fact that he couldn't see her. "Don't use my own name against me." "I'll be there in thirty minutes." She sat up. "Elias—" The call ended. Lauretta stared at her phone. "He hung up." Thirty minutes later, her doorbell rang. Of course it did. She opened the door. Elias stood there holding a paper bag. "You actually came." "You sound surprised." "I told you not to." "You said I couldn't invite myself." "I also said not to come." He held up the bag. "Food." Lauretta looked inside. "Did you bring enough for yourself?" "No." She looked at him. He smiled. "I ordered enough for both of us." She tried to look annoyed. It didn't work. "You planned this." "Obviously." "You're impossible." "And yet." He stepped inside. She closed the door behind him. Dinner was nothing like their first date. There was no ocean. No fading sunlight. No quiet restaurant. They sat on the floor of Lauretta's living room with the food between them because neither of them had bothered to set the table. Elias removed his shoes. Lauretta stared. "You take your shoes off inside?" He looked at her. "Shouldn't I?" "No." He smiled. "You don't like that?" "I didn't say that." "You thought wealthy men wore shoes everywhere." "I did not." "You did." She pointed her fork at him. "Don't be annoying." "I think you like me annoying." "I don't." "You kissed me." Lauretta froze. Elias smiled. Her eyes narrowed. "That was unnecessary." "But effective." She looked away. He laughed quietly. It was different, seeing him like this. Not dressed for an event. Not sitting across from her at a restaurant. Just Elias. Comfortable. Relaxed. Teasing her. For the first time, Lauretta wondered what he looked like in the mornings. What his apartment looked like when no one else was there. Whether he cooked. Whether he sang when he was alone. Whether he was always this quiet. Or whether he was only quiet around people who didn't know him well enough. The thought surprised her. She wanted to know him. Not the man everyone else knew. Him. "Why are you looking at me like that?" She blinked. "I'm not." "You are." "You're imagining things." He leaned closer. "Am I?" Lauretta held his gaze. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Elias smiled. And she looked away first. "You're unbearable." "I know." He stayed longer than either of them planned. They talked. About work. About people they disliked. About childhood memories. About the strangest jobs they had ever wanted when they were younger. Lauretta admitted that she once wanted to become an actress. Elias laughed. "You're lying." "I'm not." "You hate attention." "I don't hate attention." "You avoid interviews." "That's different." "How?" "I don't like strangers asking me questions." "Interesting." "What?" "Nothing." She narrowed her eyes. "You keep saying that when you mean something." "I know." She threw a napkin at him. He laughed. And Lauretta realized something dangerous. She liked making him laugh. Not because Elias rarely laughed. But because when he did, he looked younger. Softer. Less guarded. She wanted to be around for that. The realization sat quietly in her chest. She didn't say anything about it. It was almost midnight when Elias finally stood. "I should go." Lauretta nodded. Neither of them moved. Elias looked at her. "So." "So." "Are you going to pretend you don't want me to stay?" She crossed her arms. "Are you going to pretend you want to leave?" He smiled. "No." She laughed softly. Then the room became quiet again. Not uncomfortable. Just full. Elias stepped closer. Lauretta looked up at him. "You know," he said quietly, "I think I'm getting used to this." "This?" "You." Her expression softened. "That's dangerous." "Why?" "People get used to things." "That's usually how routines work." "And routines can end." Elias looked at her for a moment. Then reached for her hand. "I don't plan on ending this." Lauretta looked down at their hands. His fingers moved gently against hers. Neither of them seemed in a hurry. She looked back at him. "You make things sound very simple." "Some things are." She smiled slightly. "And what is this?" Elias stepped closer. Close enough now that she could feel the warmth of him. "I don't know yet." She laughed softly. "That's not very simple." "No." His thumb brushed against her hand. "But I know I want to find out." Lauretta looked at him. There was no clever response. No joke. No teasing. Just honesty. So she nodded. "Okay." His expression softened. "Okay?" "Okay." He smiled. Then kissed her. This time, Lauretta didn't wait for him to ask. She reached for him first. The kiss lasted longer than the one outside her apartment door. Still gentle. Still unhurried. But different. Less like a question. More like an answer. When they pulled apart, Lauretta rested her forehead briefly against his. Elias smiled. "You know, I came here because you hadn't eaten." She smiled. "You're very committed to that excuse." "I am." "You could have just said you wanted to see me." He looked at her. "I wanted to see you." Her smile disappeared slightly. Not because she didn't like hearing it. Because she did. Too much. Elias noticed. "What?" "Nothing." He waited. She sighed. Then looked at him. "I wanted to see you too." For once, Elias didn't tease her. He simply smiled. A quiet, genuine smile. The kind she was beginning to recognize. The kind that felt like something private. Something only she got to see. And Lauretta realized she wanted more of it. More evenings like this. More conversations. More teasing. More unexpected visits with food. More kisses that didn't feel like promises they weren't ready to make. She wanted more of Elias. Not all at once. Not too quickly. Just— A little closer. Elias finally left at twelve thirty. Lauretta locked the door behind him. Then stood there for several seconds. Her apartment was quiet again. Too quiet. She looked at the empty food containers on the floor. Then at her phone. A message appeared. Elias: Did you lock the door? Lauretta smiled. Lauretta: Yes, Dad. Elias: Goodnight. Lauretta: Goodnight. A moment passed. Then another message. Elias: Saturday. 7pm. She smiled. Lauretta: Is that a question? Elias: No. She laughed. Lauretta: I'll be ready. She put her phone down. Then picked it up one last time. Lauretta: Elias? Elias: Yes? She hesitated. Then smiled. Lauretta: I'm glad you came over. The reply took longer than usual. When it came, it was only four words. Elias: Me too, Lauretta.** She read it twice. Then turned off the lights. For the first time in a long time, Lauretta went to sleep looking forward to tomorrow. Not because anything extraordinary was waiting for her. But because somewhere in the middle of ordinary conversations, shared dinners, and unexpected messages— Elias had become someone she wanted to keep making room for. And perhaps that was how it happened. Not all at once. Not with fireworks. Not with promises. Just slowly. Quietly. One conversation. One kiss. One evening at a time. Getting used to each other.

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