One Night Stand with an Alpha

The apartment was as quiet as the night and felt even quieter on this day. In the middle of the living room, Eva stood there in silence; beside her was a half-zipped bag, the kind of silence that was only present when something was eventually out. But still, not the dramatic, explosive kind of reveal. The quiet kind. The kind that happens slowly over months until one night it simply finishes itself. Since she had lived in the apartment long enough, she knew her way around and didn't have to turn on the light to see her way around. The couch was three inches from the wall, and the kitchen counter with chipped edges that she had been meaning to inform the landlord about for two years, with the photograph on the fridge, she had stopped looking at it sometime around November and didn't bother looking at it at the moment. She moved quietly in such a way that she didn't want to wake someone or was trying not to disturb the older version of herself she was leaving behind. A dress. Two pairs of jeans. The book on her nightstand she had been reading in stolen minutes before sleeping. Her grandmother's locket from the jewelry box she had almost forgotten. She almost forgot it. The thought stayed with her longer than she thought, as she then tucked it into the front part of her bag. She thought to herself that a year ago, she would never have forgotten that locket because it was like a part of her while she had time for herself. Moments later, she heard an animal wailing in the distance while she was packing. Eva paused with her hand still on the zip and listened until it faded. Then she continued packing till she was done and picked it. Without leaving a note, she thought to herself that there was nothing left to say. To her, that night had already said all she needed to know. The bus to New Ville left at 6:14 am. Eva sat just by the window with her bag in between her legs while one of her hands supported her face as she looked out the window, almost lost in her thoughts, but watching Cedar Falls fade away in the dark. By five in the morning, the Marsh Street bakery would always reek of cinnamon. Before Sunday afternoons, when she and Myles would walk in the park. The same turning, just by the bakery, also led to his mother's house. She watched it all go and did not let herself feel it yet. There would be time for feeling later, when she was somewhere that belonged to her again. For now, she just watched and breathed and let the distance grow. Her phone buzzed in her lap. She looked down. April, missed call, 5:58 am. Eva pressed "call back." It rang once. "You're on the bus." April's voice was not a question. She had always been able to do that, read Eva across distances, across silences, and across the years that had stretched between them since April's job took her two cities away. "I'm on the bus," Eva confirmed. A pause. Not uncomfortable. Just April absorbing it. "Right," she responded. "You'll find the key just beneath the mat, and there's food in the fridge. I'll be home by seven." Another pause. "Eva." "I'm fine." "I didn't ask." "I know." Eva pressed her fingers against the cold glass. "Yeah. You will." They stayed on the line without talking for a little while. After that, April moving around her apartment in New Ville, the small sounds of her morning carrying through the phone, and Eva watching the last of Cedar Falls disappear behind a bend in the road. It was enough. It was more than enough. She did not realize how much she needed to get away from the very town she grew up in all her life; being alone at this point was what she didn't know she needed. Instead of overthinking everything, she chose to sleep and rest. Extremely exhausted, she slept deeply like a baby, like someone who had given herself permission to stop holding on to things and just let go. Awakened by the vibration of the vehicle, it was getting brighter. The dark rays softened into something brighter, like something almost gold, with a different landscape outside, bigger trees, and somehow a busier and more open feel. New Ville existed at a scale that Cedar Falls never had. She could sense that she was in a new place, like a breath of fresh air. She sat up, her hazel eyes somewhat puffy on one side as she gazed at her reflection in the glass. The faint yellowish shadow along her jaw that her fingers found before she could stop them. She moved her hand away. She had packed concealer and knew how to use it to cover up. The bus arrives at the station at 11:42 am, and the smell of coffee is already in the atmosphere. Eva got down with exhaustion in her head and body, as one could tell from her body movements. With a city like this one that didn't seem to slow down for anyone, she stood like she was trying to gather her strength with her bag over her shoulder till she finally moved. New city. New air. New chapter, she told herself, even if she did not entirely believe it yet. Her phone buzzed. April: I'm outside. Blue jacket. Screaming your name internally because I don't want to embarrass you, but I absolutely will if you take too long. Eva laughed. Probably the first time she laughed in a long time and didn't realize it till the sound came out loud, shaking her whole system, which felt weird for a moment. Picking up her bag, she walked towards the exit. There she was, April, searching for her, exactly where she said she would be, with a blue jacket and widened arms, waiting for a hug. With the same expression Eva has always known her with since they were in school, sharing a dorm, it brought back sweet memories, wondering what the next phase of life would be for them both. "You look terrible," April said, pulling her into a hug that said the opposite. "Thank you," Eva said into her shoulder. They stood there for a moment on the pavement with the city moving around them, and Eva closed her eyes and let herself be held and tried not to think about how long it had been since anyone had done that without wanting something back. "Come on," April said eventually, pulling back and taking Eva's bag from her shoulder before she could protest. "Let's get you home." "Home." The word landed somewhere soft inside her chest. She followed April to the car and did not look back.