One Night Stand with an Alpha

CHAPTER TWO - New Ville

Getting to April's place, the smell of lavender covered the atmosphere. It looked inviting and comfortable.

Eva stopped at the door, glancing at the inside and, at the same time, taking it all in, how this felt like home, looking at the interior of the apartment, her eyes fell to the little photo frames of them both that were hanging on the wall.

Thinking to herself, "Now this is how home should feel," and it felt like April was truly happy where she was. This was something she couldn't relate to, realizing how her place never looked or felt like this to her.

"Yeah, I know, there's nothing new," April said, already in the apartment and dropping her bag while walking towards the kitchen. "But it has everything. Good light in the mornings, the neighbors are mostly quiet except for the man in 4B who apparently owns a trumpet, and the shower pressure is genuinely life-changing."

"It's perfect," Eva said, as she meant it, which she did.

Taking off her jacket and setting it on the hook, just by the door, she noticed April had cleared a hook for her, which made her smile, acknowledging the small act of kindness and almost dropping a tear as she walked to the window. New Ville stretched out below in the afternoon light. Busy and indifferent and completely unbothered by her arrival, the way big cities always are. She found that comforting right now. To be somewhere that did not know her name or her history or the specific shape of everything she was carrying.

"Sit down," April called from the kitchen. "I made soup. Don't argue with me about soup."

Eva sat.

Henry arrived at six with wine and the easy, unforced warmth of someone who understood instinctively that this was not his evening. He shook Eva's hand, told her April had talked about her for years, topped up both their glasses and then excused himself to the bedroom with his laptop and a bowl of soup without being asked.

Eva watched him go.

"He's good," she said quietly.

April raised her gaze from her dish. With an expression that she agrees, even though she tells herself he feels too good to be true sometimes.

"Yes," she replied bluntly. "He is."

For a while, they ate in pleasant solitude. The kind of quiet that can only exist between individuals who have been acquainted long enough to have endured something together. They had survived freshman year and a terrible flat share in their second year, and the long, painful stretch after April moved away when the friendship could have quietly dissolved and didn't.

It never did. That was the thing about April. She tended to stick around.

April finally broke the silence, "You can always talk to me," without giving her direct eye contact, still fixed on her bowl. "Whenever you are ready to talk."

Eva turned her wine glass slowly in her hands. Outside the window, the city had begun its evening transformation with lights coming on in buildings, the hum of traffic shifting pitch. Somewhere below a car horn. Somewhere further, music.

"He hit me," Eva said. Flat and simple, the way you say a thing you have been carrying so long, it has lost its weight.

"Once. But the way he looked at me after…" She stopped. Shook her head.

"I was aware that this wouldn't be the final instance. So I left."

April was quiet. Eva had expected many things: anger, shock, the hot rush of protective fury she had seen April deploy on her behalf since they were nineteen years old. Instead, April reached across the table and covered Eva's hand with hers and said nothing at all.

That was better. That was exactly right.

"Okay," April said finally. "You're here now."

Eva nodded. She looked down at April's hand over hers and thought, not for the first time that day and not for the last, that the distance from Cedar Falls to New Ville was not just miles. It was something else entirely. Something she did not have a name for yet.

A fresh start or a new beginning, maybe.

Later on, they continued their conversations, catching up on other parts of their lives, for April. Mostly about work, even though she enjoyed it, she still grumbled about it. They had to have a lengthy conversation about a movie they had each seen separately. An old college recollection that began somberly and finished with them both giggling till April had to wipe her eyes.

When was the last time Eva had laughed twice in one day?

The wine had been consumed, and the city outside was completely darkened by the time Henry reappeared to bid farewell. He kissed April on the top of her head on his way past, unhurried, natural, the gesture of a man who does it every night, and Eva looked away before she could feel too much about it.

April showed her to the spare room. Small, clean, with a window that faced east so it would get the morning light. A stack of fresh towels on the chair. Another cleared hook on the back of the door.

"Full moon this week, apparently," April said from the doorway, nodding toward the window. "The city feels strange during a full moon. You'll see."

Eva looked out at the sky. Thick with cloud tonight, the moon is hidden somewhere behind them, its presence felt more than seen. A dim, diffused glow that turned the clouds silver at their edges.

Strange, she thought. She wasn't sure why.

"You need to get some rest," April said, then left, shutting the door behind her.

Eva sat quietly on the bed's edge and allowed the day to unfold around her. The bus. The station. April's arms. The soup. The laughter. Henry's hand on April's head.

She reached out for her grandmother's locket, staring at the only memory she had left of her mom. She held it close to her chest like she was trying to enjoy the moment. She closed her eyes, got comfortable on the bed and lay down.

In a few moments, she fell asleep without feeling jumpy and checking the door, which, for the first time, was relaxing for her.