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It’s midsummer and over a year into their relationship when Stevie finally stops feeling nauseous at the thought of giving Alexis a key.
Alexis is curled up on a chair beside the pool that Mr. Rose bribed Roland into installing in the expansive space behind the motel. He ended up having to pay for at least a third of the costs, but it’s a huge hit with the guests, so it was worth it in the long run.
The sun set an hour or so ago, but they’re all lingering. They’ve been doing that a lot lately, sticking closer together than usual. There have been whispers that Mr. and Mrs. Rose are going to leave town now that they can afford it. Of course, Mr. Rose can’t just up and leave completely, seeing as Stevie made him sign a contract to that effect, but there’s a good chance Mrs. Rose will never set foot back in this place if she doesn’t have to.
It’s caused a lot of stress for Stevie internally, and not just because she’s worried about Mr. Rose bailing on her. She looks over at her girlfriend again, taking in the oversized sweater that she likely stole from David and the soft cotton shorts. Her hair is up in a messy bun, legs folded beneath her.
She’s annoyingly stunning, and Stevie is absolutely fucking terrified that she’s going to run off at the first chance of freedom.
The worst part is that she wouldn’t even be able to blame her.
Because she saw how much this move fucked them all up in the beginning–even if she’s still of the opinion that they were unbearably dramatic about it–and she can’t pretend to get it. She’s lived here her whole life. Her apartment and the few spas in the general 50 mile radius are her only ideas of luxury.
But the Roses came from everything. They had the means to buy anything they wanted. They could have steamrolled over this town in days and built a mansion on the ruins before they lost everything. And then they ended up here, traumatized and completely lost and strangers to each other.
Stevie knows they’re different now, knows that their priorities and opinions have changed over the years. She knows that Alexis has built something priceless for herself in this town that she never would have thought to build before. But the worry still lingers in the back of Stevie’s mind, persistent and unbelievably annoying.
Because she’s just the owner of the shitty motel that Alexis was forced to share a room with her brother in for years. She's the one who didn’t bother giving them an extra room despite the clear vacancies. She’s the one who just simply didn’t care enough to cater to the wants of a rich family who seemed to have everything.
She’s the one who doesn’t know anything but here.
“Babe,” Alexis calls out, pulling her out of her thoughts. Stevie lifts her head from where her feet are swinging idly in the water. “Come look at this cute cat pic. It’s just like the one you had when you were little!”
But Alexis is also the one who says things like that , smiles like that, fidgets excitedly like that, and it makes Stevie feel stupid for ever having these thoughts at all. She pushes herself up, sticking her hands in her jean pockets–a horrible habit that she fully blames Patrick for–and walks around the pool’s edge, scrunching her nose up as she catches David and Patrick kissing in her peripheral vision.
“See!” Alexis says when she reaches her, grabbing her hand like it’s breathing, like it requires no conscious thought at all. Stevie grins and leans in, peering at the cat that actually looks nothing like her childhood pet.
“Lucifer was orange and a lot fluffier,” Stevie says, raising her eyebrows and holding back a laugh as Alexis’ face drops in disbelief.
“I thought he was a black cat.”
“Nope,” Stevie replies, gently tugging on her phone, asking for permission to take it.
Alexis lets go and Stevie types in her username in the Instagram search bar, scrolling down through her profile before finding it. It was one of her first posts, a shot of an actual printed picture she found in a random box in the motel attic. She’s standing there, ten years old and characteristically solemn as she stands in front of her kitchen door and poses for the photo, Lucifer dangling in her arms. He looks terrified, blue eyes wide in the still moment, and Alexis makes a noise in the back of her throat.
“God, babe, you were such a demon child,” she whines, taking her phone back and zooming in on Stevie’s dark eyes and unruly hair.
“Were?” David calls from a few feet away, already smiling proudly at his joke. His fingers are intertwined with Patrick’s and their towels are slung over their shoulders. They must be heading home.
“Um, David, you literally asked dad to hire an exorcist when you were 8 because you thought you were possessed by that homeless guy on the subway.”
“Okay, he was giving me weird looks,” David defends, thick eyebrows furrowing as he’s tugged away by Patrick, who is clearly trying to suppress a grin. “and you promised you’d never tell!”
“That was before you came at my girlfriend,” Alexis calls back easily, not even looking up from her phone as David is hauled away, huffing dramatically as Patrick says an amused goodnight.
The extra key that Stevie had copied just the other day burns in her pocket at Alexis’ words, though, and she barely has the concentration to nod in their direction as they disappear around the building.
She’s never given anyone a key before. No one has ever stuck around long enough for her to even consider it.
Even David, who ends up at her apartment far more often than she would prefer–well, she won’t admit to preferring it at least–doesn’t have one. Stevie can reluctantly admit in her own mind that she loves him and his friendship, but that doesn’t mean she’s willing to risk him barging in whenever he and Patrick get into a fight or he’s bored on a day off.
God forbid he walks in on anything she does with Alexis.
“Hello,” Alexis sings out, waving her hand in front of Stevie’s face. Her eyebrows are raised when Stevie’s gaze focuses back in on her, and uh oh , she knows that look. It’s her ‘I’m going to pull every piece of information you’re hiding right out of you’ look. Stevie, a historically closed off and abrasive person, has fallen into her trap countless times. Alexis sets her phone down on her chair and holds her arms out in front of her, wrists flopping and head tilting. “You have this weird distant look on your face. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Stevie answers automatically, pressing her lips together as Alexis stares bemusedly. “I was just thinking.”
The staring continues, and Stevie feels like she’s being scanned, like she’s a computer and Alexis is an anti-virus program eager to wipe away all of the damage that’s been inflicted on her over the years. It’s incredibly unnerving and reassuring all at once, knowing that someone sees her like this, can detect even the slightest presence of unease. She’s spent so long putting up a persona that makes people look through her or past her, and Alexis is immune.
“Sure, you’re just totally spacey and quiet because nothing’s wrong,” Alexis says pointedly, sitting up straighter and wrapping her arms around her legs where they’re folded in front of her.
Stevie’s hand seems to move into her pocket of its own accord, slightly shaky fingers clutching the warm metal. She takes a deep breath, looks up at the sky, and pulls it out. It has its own little blue keychain, since Alexis doesn’t have her own set of car keys. She juts her arm out into the space between them and opens her hand, cringing slightly as she forces her fingers to open where they’re curled tightly in her palm. Alexis looks down just as it’s revealed, a smile immediately spreading across her face.
“Um, Ms. Budd, am I mistaken or is that a key to your apartment?” Alexis asks, pointing down at Stevie’s palm and shimmying her shoulders.
“Okay, we talked about you not calling me ‘Ms. Budd’ ever again,” Stevie says, cheeks pink as Alexis plucks the key from her hand, trailing a fingertip across her skin as she pulls away.
“Mhm,” she says, lips curled so adorably Stevie is seconds away from exploding.
“It’s not a big deal. It’s just a piece of metal.”
“Right,” Alexis says, nodding sarcastically at Stevie’s failed nonchalance. “Just a really intricately designed piece of metal that fits into the keyhole of your apartment door. So I can just wander in whenever, walk around, maybe in that matching bra and panties you love so much–”
Stevie leans in and kisses her, mostly to shut her up, but also to keep herself from smiling too big at her girlfriend’s antics. Alexis kisses her back surprisingly soft, fingertips just barely grazing her cheek as their lips slide together. She is soft. Her skin, her hair, the fabric of her sweatshirt. She’s a constant juxtaposition, a clash of bold personality and silky touch.
Stevie is so terrifyingly in love with her.
“Thank you,” Alexis says quietly when they pull back, pressing her fingers into Stevie’s shoulders and keeping their faces close. “For trusting me.”
Stevie holds her gaze for a moment, hoping it conveys everything her pride won’t let her say.
“Just don’t drink all of my wine.”
Alexis makes a noncommittal noise, and Stevie laughs softly, squeezing herself into the free space on the chair and holding her close long into the night.