“Cool,” I mimic to the empty apartment. It doesn’t feel as satisfying that way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“This is Bryce. Bryce, this is Chloe,” Warren introduces his friend to me, face as indifferent as ever.
I reach out for Bryce’s hand with a polite smile, and he extends his own. His eyes are fixed on my chest. In the time I take to look at our hands, to Warren, then back to Bryce, his eyes still haven’t left my cleavage. I rip my hand away with a startling force that makes him realise he has been caught. Warren smirks, and I glare at him too.
“I work with War at the shop,” Bryce sputters out.
I won’t be engaging with Bryce anymore.
“So where do you want to start?” I ask, turning my focus solely to Warren.
He furrows his brow. “Thanks, but I’m good. I’ve moved a lot. Don’t need more than a second set of hands.” His thanks is worded as confused annoyance without any sense of genuine appreciation.
“Oh, well, I get that. It might go faster if I grab a box or two.”
“No. Really… all good.” He glances up and down my body far too quickly for it to be anything inappropriate—just enough to make me feel utterly useless.
I dressed practically today so I could help—bell-bottom jeans with a striped mustard and red T-shirt tucked in, bandanna in my hair. Cute, obviously, but a working outfit nonetheless.
“All right… I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.” I have work to do anyway.
He doesn’t even acknowledge my response before he tilts his head up to Bryce, and they make their way back towards the front hall. For the next ninety minutes, I work at my desk that’s propped up against the railing of the loft, a few feet from the end of my bed. They don’t talk much at all except for directions when the object they’re carrying is blocking the other’s view.
Male friendships are strange. Though I suppose I’m no expert on friendships of any kind. Elementary school had been a write-off, being transferred between schools when I moved from my mom’s to a foster family, then back to Connie, then to my now parents’ place as a foster placement, then after my adoption, to our new home.
I was perpetually the new kid. High school was hard friendship-wise too. I had strict parents who insisted it was better for me to struggle through all the advanced level classes and have a tutor than to make time for socialising with my peers. Universityhadbeen better.
A renewed sense of freedom meant I went a little too hard on the socialising first-year, but none of those friendships stuck. The two friends I lived with, Lane and Emily, both came from the other side of the country and had returned home. The group chat has definitely slowed down with each passing day since graduation, but I do miss them. How would I even catch them up at this point? I never even told them I had been adopted.
I finish up my work andcan no longer ignore my nagging bladder since I’ve been trying to remainout of the way of the two men downstairs. I try to listen but hear nothing but silence below. It seems this is my chance to sneak in and out of the bathroom. If I’m lucky, I might have time to snag a bag of chips out of the pantry before retreating once again.
I run downstairs, but I’m not fast enough. Hearing the sound of the elevator announcing its arrival as I get into the hallway, I make a dash to the bathroom right as the front door swings—“Ow!”—into my face.
“What? Oh, shit.” Warren drops his side of the mattress and pushes past Bryce, who stands in the doorway—blankly staring at me and my bloody nose.
“Let me see.” Warren reaches up to my face and tries to move my hand away.
“No—that’s okay. I got it. I’m just going to—” I try to step around him to get into the bathroom, but he doesn’t budge. “I actually get nosebleeds a lot. It may be a coincidence!”
Warren looks back at me, confused. “The door slammed into your face. I don’t think it’s a coincidental nosebleed.” I try to squeeze around him again, but he steps into my path.
“Let me see.” He’s frustrated, and his voice has lowered. I find myself following his instructions, despite my desire to suffer in private.
“Yeah… ouch. Well, it doesn’t look broken.” He tilts my face with a grip on my jaw. His thumb is pressed into the front of my chin, and his fingers are curled underneath. It’s the most physical contact I’ve had in months, from a cute guy, that is. My stomach swirls. He lowers his hand and looks at Bryce. “Nice one, jackass.”
“How was I supposed to know she was standing there?” Bryce asks, voice dripping with derision.
“Could I?” I gesture to the bathroom door behind Warren, and he steps out of the way.
I rush in, shut the door, and look at myself in the mirror. Dried blood is already forming around my neck, and my top is definitely ruined. A shower will be the fastest way to get it all off, and an excuse to hide out a little longer.
When I’m finished, I have to pull my bloodied clothes back on for the sole purpose of getting me upstairs, lest I endure another embarrassing incident today. I change once back in my room and look towards the full-length mirror in the corner as I sit on my bed. Without blood obscuring my view, my nose is purple and rough looking.
“Chloe?” a deep voice calls from the dining room below. I walk to the railing and lean over to see Warren looking up.
“Uh, yep?” I retreat out of view slightly—he has a strong, focused stare, and I’m not used to being seen.
