Time: 9:57 PM.
Location: Haley’s hallway.
Situation: I’m so fucked.
I fucking went.
I. Went.
I’ve never been more disappointed in myself than I am right now. I drove home after my shift at Harold’s, showered, dressed for bed, and even lay down. Then, without thought, I lifted myself from the bed, slipped my shoes on, grabbed my keys, and wound up here.
Outside her door. Dressed for bed. At almost ten at night.
What in the hell am I thinking?
I’m not. That’s the problem.
I glance at my phone to check the time again. It’s still 9:57. I have three minutes to change my mind, to run, to not do this.
That also means I have three minutes to convince myselftodo this, to stay.
Weigh your options, Gaige.
Pros: Haley was fun last night, even when she was drunk. I was (mostly) relaxed, something I haven’t been in some time. I need a break from my routine. This is that break.
Cons: This could turn into something I’m not prepared for. Additionally, I have no idea what to be prepared for. I don’t know Haley or her expectations. Hell, I don’t even knowmyexpectations. She’s the sister of my best friend’s girlfriend. While technically a con, I’m writing it off because I’m not letting Hudson’s life dictate mine.
Result: I’m still at a loss.
I lean against the wall opposite her door, my palms flat against the patterned paper, head hanging low. I simply breathe. I need this moment to justbe, to clear my head and not think…which is kind of absurd because not thinking is what landed me here. Maybe that’s a good thing? I’ve been careful these last several years—almosttoocareful. I work two jobs, sometimes three, and I take care of what I have at home. I never stray from my carefully paved path. I have about one drink a month with my friends when I decide to do something wild. The rest of my time is spent keeping busy, getting shit done. Nothing I do is solely for me. Maybe itistime I change that.
Or you can keep being responsible and go home. There’s nothing wrong with being responsible, Gaige.
Right. There’s not.
However, I have no idea what it is Haley wants. She could want to talk, to cry again, whichisresponsible. Or maybe she’s drunk and needs someone to hold her hair while she talks to the toilet about what she ate today. Maybe this is exactly what I thought earlier: a booty call. Fuck, I should have dressed a lot nicer if that’s what it is—not that I’d sleep with her…or would I?Shit.No. It’s not that.
It’s…
I have no idea, and if I walk away now, I’ll never know. I don’t think I can live with not knowing.
Anxiety picks at me as I pick at the wallpaper. It’s so quiet in the hallway. Everything is silent. Everything is loud. Time is creeping by, and I swear this space is getting smaller by the second. Inch closing in on inch, closing in on me, on the false sense of calm I’ve managed to maintain until right…
This.
Very.
Second.
Panic crawls up my spine, wrapping itself around every fiber of my being, squeezing every ounce of tranquility I’ve managed to wrangle. I glance down at my gray sleep pants, unlaced shoes, and plain white shirt. I’m in my pajamas standing in the middle of an unfamiliar hallway waiting on a woman who’s practically a stranger to open her door. I’ve officially gone insane.Thisis insane. Haley’s insane. Unlocking a door at exactly 9:59 PM for some guy she just met qualifies as crazy.
The worst part? It’s a kind of crazy I’d like to get to know.
I think.
And then I can’t think because all I can hear is the click of the lock as Haley flips it. I straighten, my stance going unnaturally vertical. Standing still, I slowly count to sixty.
One…two…three…
