Page 1 of Under My Skin

Chapter One

LUCY

Time is a funny thing. Here I am, scrolling through apartment listings with a bowl of ramen beside me and my cat asleep in my lap.

A month ago, I was probably doing this exact same thing—scrolling through listings I can’t afford because I’m too afraid to click on the ones I can—but a month ago feels like another lifetime.

Because it was another lifetime. It was an end to an era of living with my best friend.

Fridays were for pizza, Saturdays were for errands, and Sundays were for brunch and dance parties with cleaning supplies.

Now I only have one month left with my new, terrible roommate—which is great. It feels good to have the countdown hit one. But that means I have only one month to find another place to live, and that feels . . . less good.

To be fair, it’s not my terrible roommate’s fault.

Jasmine and I were never destined to live together.

I was destined to live with Allison—which is why I did it for two years and ten months.

Everything was fine until she had to go and meet the love of her life.

She had her heart set on a September wedding, but it meant she’d have to skip out on our lease two months early.

I told her it would be fine. She’d been dreaming of a September wedding since I sat next to her in Freshman Comp. Who am I to deprive my best friend of what she wants?

I’m amazed she stuck it out and stayed here during their short engagement.

Allison and Dina have one of those effortless love stories.

The two met at a GameStop of all places.

Dina was there because she’s actually a gamer, and Allison was there to get a gift for her younger brother.

Dina says Allison looked adorably lost, searching through all the different versions of Call of Duty .

So, she helped her pick the right game and took her out to coffee after.

The lease to our apartment was the only bump in the road to their happily ever after, so I told them not to worry about it.

“Come on! He was right fucking there!” Jasmine yells through her headset in the other room, and Pudge flinches in my lap.

Giving my cat a reassuring scratch behind the ears, I quietly say, “I know. It’s almost over.” Jasmine has no idea how loud she is with that headset, and with our paper-thin walls, she might as well be screaming at me from the other side of my monitor.

I take a deep breath. This is worth it. Living with Dina’s old roommate for two months is worth it. Allison has her happily ever after, and I will be just as happy when this arrangement ends.

Taking a steadying breath, I get back to scrolling. It costs a good chunk of change to live in Denver without a roommate, and Allison was the only person I knew well enough to live with.

Well, Allison and Jasmine, apparently. But I won’t sign a lease with Jasmine.

I can’t. She streams all night, and every morning the apartment looks like it’s been ransacked by a family of raccoons.

Most mornings, getting a glass of water from the kitchen feels like completing an obstacle course of trash and gaming equipment, with the prize being a half-eaten midnight snack left rotting on the kitchen table.

All of which is borderline impressive considering she doesn’t game in the living room.

“Cover me, bitch! I need backup!”

Pudge jumps down from my lap with a disgruntled flick of his fluffy tail and hops on the bed to curl up a few feet away. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think you’ll hear her any less over there.”

He ignores me and closes his eyes.

It probably doesn’t help that my desk shares a wall with her gaming table.

We’re practically head-to-head cubicle workers with two vastly different occupations.

I’m sure there are some parallels between freelance graphic design and streaming on Twitch, but when I’m scheduling all my calls with clients around Jasmine’s sleep schedule, it hardly feels that way.

My phone rings on the table next to me, and my eyebrows pinch as I register my older brother’s name. Simon and I don’t talk on the phone. We don’t even text. We send each other memes. That’s the language we speak.

“Hello?” I don’t bother hiding the surprise in my voice.

“Hey, you’re coming home this weekend, right?”

I blink, my eyes jumping to the calendar on my wall. No birthdays. No anniversaries. The only holiday is Halloween at the end of the month. “Um, no? Why would I come home this weekend?”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, I think maybe he called the wrong person. It’s just us, though. No other siblings he could have mistaken me for. “Mom didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Did something bad happen? Holy shit, did someone die?

“Fuck,” Simon curses under his breath. “She told me she already told you.”

I nervously twist a strand of blonde hair that escaped from my ponytail. “Told me what? ”

There’s a long, drawn-out groan on the other end of the phone. “Look, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this.”

“Simon, spit it?—”

“They’re getting a divorce.”

Jasmine yells, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” and I think maybe I’ve heard him wrong .

“They’re . . . what?”

He sighs. “They’re getting a divorce. Mom said you knew.”

A divorce? The word is hard to comprehend in this context. I’m twenty-four years old. I know what a divorce is, but applying it to my parents—applying it to them? It makes no sense.

All my memories growing up flash before my eyes.

All the holidays, birthday parties, school plays, and kitchen dance offs.

They were there for all of it—together. They were happy.

We were happy. They were the parents who always said I love you before leaving the house. They were solid. They were a team.

“Lucy? Did you hear me?”

“I . . .” My voice trails, and I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”

“Uh . . . they’re breaking up?”

I scoff and get up from my desk chair. “I know what divorce means, asshole. But why? How?” My eyes narrow even though he can’t see me. “Are you messing with me?”

There’s a low chuckle on the other end of the phone. How is he laughing? How can he find this funny? “You know, for once, I’m not.” He takes a deep breath. “They said they just don’t have much in common anymore.”

I balk, stopping in my tracks. I hadn’t even realized I’d been pacing. “Things in common? They have over thirty years in common. What the hell is wrong with them?”

“If it helps, they seem happy about the decision.”

“That definitely does not help! What do they have to be so happy about? They’re destroying our family.”

“Maybe this is why Mom hasn’t told you . . .”

How can he be so cool about this? How can he not be freaking out that our entire childhood must have been cracked and flawed, but we couldn’t see it? That we didn’t have the happy parents we thought?

“Wait a minute,” I say, standing up straighter. “How long have you known? ”

The beat of silence that passes is deafening.

“How long have you known, Simon?”

“Not that long.”

“And how long is that?”

He hesitates, and I swear I could choke him. “Maybe a month?”

“A month? ” I get it. He still lives in Copper Ridge, Vermont, while I’m the one who moved away. But to go a month without my parents telling me? I talk to them at least once a week!

“Yup. Went and filed together, listed the house, and now they need our help going through everything. Do you know if there’s anything you want to keep?”

As far as I know, my room is still exactly as I left it.

Who knows what kind of stuff I’d find in there?

When Simon and I moved out, we told them to use one of our rooms as Mom’s art studio, but they both looked horrified at the thought.

Mom went into this big spiel about how we’ll always have a home with them if we need it, and Dad practically teared up at the thought of throwing out my old stuffed animals.

I feel like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe, and I hate it here.

Jasmine yells something through the wall, but I barely register it. Having an obnoxious, constantly-gaming roommate is the least of my concerns now.

“So . . . do you know what you want to keep?”

Everything in me deflates at his follow-up question, and I take a hard seat on my bed. This is really happening? My parents are getting divorced and selling the only home I’ve ever known?

My eyes burn, so I quickly wipe them even though no tears have fallen. “I can’t think of anything,” I say quietly. I can’t cry in front of Simon. Even if it’s just over the phone. He’d probably get uncomfortable and find an excuse to hang up.

“All right. I’ll tell them.”

I snap back to the present. “That doesn’t mean throw all my stuff away. I just can’t think of anything specific. I’d have to see what they have.”

“So, you’re coming?” When I don’t answer right away, he adds, “I think you should.”

What choice do I have? It sounds like they won’t be taking anything sentimental to their new homes. If I want any pieces from my past, I have to salvage them myself.

“Yeah. I’m coming.” As soon as the words leave my lips, I imagine sleeping in my childhood bed in a house with my parents while they happily dismantle our lives. “I need to find a hotel,” I blurt. “There’s no way I’m staying in that house with them.”

“Just stay here. I’ve got a couch.”

My eyebrows furrow. “Don’t you have a whole second room?”

“It’s occupied at the moment. Hey, I have to run. Call Mom and Dad. Let me know your plan.”

I reach for Pudge, scratching him behind the ears. “I’ll have to bring my cat. I don’t think my roommate is capable of keeping him alive.”

“Whatever you need to do, Lucy. Just let me know.” He sounds distracted, and the rattle of keys jingling in the background confirms he’s on his way out.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. I’ll talk to you later.” Right before he hangs up, he says, “Call Mom and Dad.”

I roll my eyes.

Why? Why should I be the one to call them? They should have told me about this by now. Hell, they should have told me about this a month ago. Why is it up to me to reach out and break the news I already know?

Just the thought has my head throbbing. Lying down on my bed, I reach for Pudge again. He looks mildly annoyed that I keep touching him while he’s trying to sleep, but my eyes feel hot and prickly again, and distracting myself with him is the easiest way to keep my tears at bay.