Page 56 of Give Me Love
I fucked that up.
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Kathrine
Tires spin when he drives off, tossing up water and white smoke. I lean against the wall, crossing my arms as I stare after him. There’s a burn in my chest and a sinking feeling in my gut. He couldn’t even respond to me. Son of a bitch, what have I gotten myself into? I close my eyes for a brief moment, chastising my stupid self.
Rain falls in sheets as I stand soaking the lobby floor, and when the elevator behind me dings open, I startle and wipe a hand over my face. I turn away from the door and walk past the people who just got off, ignoring their eyes on me.
The ride up is lonely. That’s the best way to describe it. I walk into our apartment, and as I shut the door, I lean back against it.
The light above the stove is on, but darkness has more territory here and in my life. The place is soundless, save for a small hum from the A/C in my back bedroom and Claire’s fan. My head falls against the door.
“Shit,” I mutter.Claire.
I didn’t even ask her how her interview went. I find the doorknob and lock it before turning and locking the deadbolt also.
Placing my purse and keys onto the counter, I slide my shoes off and walk to the kitchen for a drink. Flipping the overhead on, I open the freezer and reach for the bottle of vodka before grabbing a cup from the dish drainer.
The day has been long, tiring, and emotional. I can’t understand that man. I need to stay away from him. I have to. I fill my glass with ice, and as I pour the vodka, I think about what Nash told him.
Fucker only kissed me there once. He was supposed to be a good friend. I scoff and down my drink before filling it again. Leaning against the counter, I stare at the opposite side and think about how mad Bryce was at this.
Is he jealous? I shake my head and bring the cup to my lips again. The ice rattles against the plastic and the liquor tastes like forgetting as it passes over my lips.
After two more glasses, I put the bottle back and walk to my room. My eyes go to Claire’s door. I’m tipsy and borderline drunk after several shots of vodka and two beers mixed with Bryce.
I walk to her door and roll my forehead against it. My fingers move up to draw a small heart. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “You’re my best friend and I wish I could tell you everything.” I close my eyes and breathe out. “But I don’t know how.” I want to scream sometimes. Fuck, I want to shout and spill it all. But the words stop before they reach my throat because they’re too painful to say out loud. The thing about pain is, it never tires. It’s people who get exhausted.
I move away from her door and walk back to my room. It’s humid in here and a breeze blows in from my window, tossing the curtain. I don’t remember leaving this open. I go over and inhale the scent of rain and summer city air.
My head is fuzzy and the lights outside look blurred. I slide my phone from my pocket, unlocking the code. I find his number and chew on my lip. My finger hovers over the call button. The blue light from the screen interrupts the darkness around me and I swallow this sick feeling in my chest.
I’m torn. I want a relationship with this guy, but if I get too close and he decides it’s time to move on… what will I be left with?
I press the lock button on the side and shut the window. I’m just not ready to do this yet.
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The morning sun offends me when it shines in my eyes. I feel last night’s one too many with the pounding of my head and I sit up and look at the time. It’s after twelve. I reach over and grab my phone, my hair cocooning my face as I rub my nose and see I have no missed calls or texts. I scoff at myself. What? I want him to call me, but I can’t call him?
I know that’s unfair of me and I’m so confused as to what I want. I throw the covers off and go brush my teeth and wash my face.
I hear the TV on in the living room when I open my door and Claire looks my way before turning back to the reality show.
“Hey,” I say, walking into the kitchen to grab some water and headache meds.
“Hey,” she replies. After I toss a few back and chug half the bottle, I grab a coffee cup and fill it with this morning’s leftovers. Popping it in the microwave, I wonder how mad she is at me. I’m not ready to talk about anything deep.
I just need her to understand, but I also want her to know I love her like I’d imagine one to love their sibling. She’s the only constant in my life. After my coffee warms, I add cream and sugar and pad into the living room. I take a seat and bring the cup to my lips and blow.
“How did your interview go?” I ask.
“Great. I got the job.”
“Really?” I smile.
“Yeah.” Her lips bend.
