It Ends with Us

Chapter Eight
“We need to talk,” Lucy says.
She’s sitting on the couch, mascara streaked down her cheeks.
Oh, shit.
I drop my purse and rush over to her. As soon as I sit down next to her,
she starts crying.
“What’s wrong? Did Alex break up with you?”
She starts shaking her head and then I really start freaking out. Please
don’t say cancer. I grab her hand, and that’s when I see it. “Lucy! You’re
engaged?”
She nods. “I’m sorry. I know we still have six months left on the lease,
but he wants me to move in with him.”
I stare at her for a minute. Is that why she’s crying? Because she wants out of
her lease? She reaches for a tissue and starts dabbing at her eyes. “I feel
awful, Lily. You’re going to be all alone. I’m moving and you won’t have
anyone.”
What the . . .
“Lucy? Um . . . I’ll be fine. I promise.”
She looks up at me with hope in her expression. “Really?”
Why in the world does she have this impression of me? I nod again. “Yes. I’m
not mad, I’m happy for you.”
She throws her arms around me and hugs me. “Oh, thank you, Lily!”
She starts giggling in between bouts of tears. When she releases me, she
jumps up and says, “I have to go tell Alex! He was so worried you wouldn’t
let me out of my lease!” She grabs her purse and shoes and disappears out
the front door.
I lie back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. Did she just play me?
I start laughing, because until this moment, I had no idea how much
I’ve been waiting for this to happen. The whole place to myself!
What’s even better, is when I do decide to have sex with Ryle, we can
have it over here all the time and not have to worry about being quiet.

---

The last time I spoke to Ryle was when I left his apartment on Saturday.
We agreed on a trial run. No commitments yet. Just a relationship feeler to
see if it’s something we both want. It’s now Monday night and I’m a little
disappointed I haven’t heard from him. I gave him my phone number
before we parted Saturday, but I don’t really know texting etiquette,
especially for trial runs.
Regardless, I’m not texting him first.
I decide to occupy my time with teenage angst and Ellen DeGeneres,
instead. I’m not about to wait around to be beckoned by a guy I’m not
even having sex with. But I don’t know why I assume that reading about
the first guy I had sex with will somehow get my mind off the guy I’m not
having sex with.
Dear Ellen,
My great-grandfather’s name is Ellis. My entire life, I thought that was a really
cool name for such an old guy. After he died, I was reading the obituary. Would you
believe that Ellis wasn’t even his real name? His real name was Levi Sampson and
I had no idea.
I asked my grandmother where the name Ellis came from. She said his initials
were L.S. and everyone called him by his initials for so long, they just started
sounding them out over the years.
Which is why they referred to him as Ellis.
I was looking at your name just now and it made me think of that. Ellen. Is that
even your real name? You could be just like my great-grandfather and using your
initials as a disguise.
L.N.
I’m onto you, “Ellen.”
Speaking of names, do you think Atlas is a weird name? It is, isn’t it?
Yesterday while I was watching your show with him, I asked him where he got his
name from. He said he didn’t know. Without even thinking, I told him he should
ask his mother why she named him that. He just looked over at me for a second and