In spite of it all, Sylas makes a pretty good boyfriend. I know he’s doing his best to sell this relationship, but I swear at times it feels…real.
19
SYLAS
Monday, December 16
I’m goingthrough gum faster than I’ve ever gone through anything in my life. Every time I think of reaching for a cigarette, I grab a stick or cube of gum.
I bought a variety because some aren’t as good as they’re advertised, and some, while good, don’t last in flavor. And sometimes, depending on the day or what my father says, I’ll need something strong. Unfortunately, gum isn’t known for beingstrongin nerve-shattering abilities.
I miss my cigarettes. The stupid withdrawal is giving me horrible headaches, and everything annoys the shit out of me.
Popping in a minty cube, I push the button on my lighter down and keep my eyes trained on the elevator.
I had practice with my father early this morning, followed by drills with the guys, and then met my father again to review film.
He was his usual asshole self, but something was different.
I waited for him to talk about Anna, expected it to happen—mentally prepared myself, even—but the questions never came. It’s strange, but it’s the least of my problems. My shoulderstarted acting up. I couldn’t think of anything but making sure I didn’t strain it and prayed it didn’t pop out of place again.
I chew fast, my jaw becoming sore, but I don’t let up nor do I stop playing with the lighter.
Knowing Anna is coming today is the only thing keeping me from going mental. She somehow helps slow my quick-paced thoughts. I don’t know what it is about being with her, but she makes me feel at ease.
So much so that when I hear the elevator door ping, I stop playing with the lighter, my jaw relaxes, and my chewing is steady.
She strolls out of the elevator with a cart full of cleaning supplies by herself.
Anna’s got her earbuds in so she doesn’t notice me at first, head bobbing to the Christmas song playing. It’s loud, and I make out Mariah Carey’s distinct voice.
I wave my hand, loudly calling her name, but she’s oblivious, head still bobbing, two buns on her head moving as she sings along.
When she finally turns around, she gasps and drops a bright yellow rag on the floor.
“What the hell, Sylas?” she squeaks, removing her earbuds.
I snicker, sauntering over to her, and pick up the rag. “I tried to get your attention.”
She peers up at me, a deep frown on her face. “By standing there like a creep? You could’ve come up to me.”
I shrug, shaking the rag for her to take, but she doesn’t. “Not a creep. It’s my home. I can stand wherever I want, and I didn’t want to get in your way.”
“So, what? You’re saying it’s my fault?”
“Yeah, you being easily spooked is your fault. But if I apologize, will you stop being mad at me?” I smile at her but then can’t help but laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Her hardened expression softens, and she chuckles a little.
“This feels like déjà vu…”
She has this faraway look on her face, but a second later, it dawns on her. “A creep then, a creep now. Some things don’t change.”
I’m taken aback and tighten my hold on the rag as she tries to yank it free. “It’s not my fault you didn’t notice me both times. It’s important to be aware of your surroundings.” I blatantly let my eyes drift down her body. She’s wearing her cleaning service outfit, a black collared shirt withElite Housekeepingsewn in gold thread on the top right of her breast, and black joggers. “And I’m not sorry for checking you out.” I wasn’t actually; I was too busy feeling relieved that she’s here. “I’ve seen you naked and you’re really pretty, so sue me.”
Her chest expands, a small divot nestles between her brows, and the apples of her cheeks flush. She glances at her cart, brushing her bangs away from her forehead, but they fall back to where they were originally.
I smirk then blow a bubble.
