Only he wasn’t. Laurie came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist—not in an attempt to seduce his old boyfriend—while rubbing another towel over his hair to dry it. And the apartment was still empty.
He sighed and walked into the kitchen. The coffee was ready at least. He went to the cupboard, took down a mug, and poured. He’d leave a note for Lync, apologizing for crashing in his apartment. He found a pencil and a note pad, and while he tried to think of what to write, he turned on the radio and fiddled with the dial. He liked music with his breakfast, and this was breakfast, such as it was. If Lync wasn’t happy with Laurie’s choice of radio station, he could change it whenever he got home.
Instead of getting “Rescue Me”—Pop preferred the music of the sixties, and La
