“I had a virtual interview a couple days ago. This morning I get an email congratulating me on my new position.”
“That’s good, right? You can continue your research. Which college will you be at this time?”
“UCLA.”
19
Jason
Ihad trouble sleeping last night. I could be paranoid, but it’s like I feel Bree’s energy radiating through the wall. I don’t like it. I also don’t like her being at Hotspot while I’m trying to work to get her off my mind. We’d exchanged those stupid ass pleasantries again, while I pretended to not want her more than I wanted anything else in my life. Like a good boy, I made her and Chloe’s drinks, while I remained in the boring ass box of friendship, where she’d placed me a few days prior.
Carlee’s silly ass was a welcomed surprise; I needed to think about anything besides Bree and how I miss her and her body. But, that’s when it all went to shit.
As I waved goodbye to Carlee, Drake flowed from the speakers, spilling his fucking feels on everybody listening. I understand Hotline Bling far more than I should. My eyes seek her out only to find her lip locked with another guy. The pain that shot through my body was a foreign thing for me. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, yet my heart tried to beat out of my chest.
People disappeared, everything turned red, and my ability to hear or think vanished. I wanted to murder the guy. My fog dissipates when Lars moved forward, took one look at me, and plucked that asshole off Bree. I blinked back into focus, only to find Gloria studying me with concern. I stepped back, and by some unspoken understanding, she moved in to complete the drink I was making.
The fresh air didn’t help the reality that Bree was really moving on without me. Sulking, I’d gone home to try to figure it all out.
Now, I’m laying in bed, no more rested or clear about Bree as I was the night before. I pluck up my ringing phone and look at the display. I don’t want to answer it, but it could be about business.
“Hey, Lars. What’s up?”
“Nothing other than you pissing your sadness on everyone like the most pathetic golden shower ever.”
“I’m not in the mood for this shit, Lars.”
“Open the door, man.”
“Lars—”
“Now, Jason, or I’ll kick the damn thing in.”
“You know you work for me, right?”
“You know if I have to kick open your door, I’ll beat your ass before I get all bro-motional with you, right?”
I snort. “I’m not scared of you, Lars.”
“You’d be in the minority. Plus, I hear your punk ass moving toward the door”
“Only so I can glare at you properly,” I respond once the door is open.
Lars towers over me, his hair in a top knot and his colorful tats are on display in his tank as if it’s not January. He waves some bags and cups at me.
“I brought coffee and breakfast. You look like shit,” he says as he steps around me. “I warned you,” he says as he places the items on my table. “But, does anyone ever fucking listen to Mayhem? Nope.”
I join him at the tablelovinghow he somehow made this about him.
“What are you talking about?”
“I told you you were falling for her. I told you to be careful. You didn’t listen, and what did I have to do? Kick some random dude out because you looked like you wanted to cry. You stood there and watched some dude kiss a woman you failed to claim properly. I wanted to get you some tampons, but I didn’t know what size you prefer.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “If this is supposed to be pep talk or what you call ‘getting bro-motional,’ you suck at it.”
Lars tears into a breakfast burrito. “Nah, man. It’s like sports. I have to recap first.”
My stomach growls. I grab the burrito and tear open the foil. “Are you done with your recap?”
