“Yeah.” Kent grabbed the remote, not even looking at me. “You were taking forever with that call.”
“That call was my job, Kent. The job that pays for this apartment. The apartment you’re currently living in for free.”
He finally glanced over, eyebrows raised. “Jesus, what crawled up your ass? I just asked a question.”
“You didn’t ask anything. You burst in here, made a scene during the most important meeting I’ve had in weeks, and now you’re complaining that I was taking too long.” I stood up, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “Do you have any idea what you just cost me?”
“I walked into an apartment. My bad for existing.” He turned back to the TV, dismissing me entirely. “It’s not my fault your clients don’t like your bullshit.”
I wanted to scream, to tell him to get out, to fucking punch him in the face. But I didn’t. Of course I didn’t. I just stood there with my fists balled up so tight that my nails nearly puncturedmy skin. Kent always walked all over me and there I was, just putting up with it again like I always had.
Pathetic.
“I’m gonna go take a bath,” I said, turning on my heel. “Make sure you clean up your dishes from this morning.
“Sure thing,Mom.”
I slammed the bathroom door harder than I meant to, the sound echoing through the small apartment. My hands were shaking as I turned on the faucet, cranking the hot water as far as it would go. Steam began to rise almost immediately, fogging up the mirror until I couldn’t see my own reflection anymore. Good. I didn’t want to look at myself right now, at the same spineless fucking person I’d always been.
The tub filled slowly, and I sat on the closed toilet lid, listening to the rush of water and the muffled sounds of the television through the door. A sports announcer’s voice rose and fell in excitement. Kent laughed at something. He was already over it, already moved on, because why wouldn’t he be? Nothing ever stuck to him. He just bulldozed through life leaving destruction in his wake, and people like me were left to clean up the mess.
Fifteen hundred dollars. That’s what his little interruption had probably cost me. Maybe more if the brewery spread the word that I was unprofessional. The design community in Seattle was smaller than people thought, and reputation was everything.
I pulled off my shirt and caught sight of the hickey on my collarbone in the mirror’s remaining clear spot. The guy from last night, whatever his name was, had been rough, demanding. I needed that. Needed to feel something other than the constant low-grade anxiety that had become my baseline. But now, looking at the purple mark on my skin, I just felt empty.
The water was scalding when I finally stepped in, hot enough that it turned my skin pink immediately. I sank down anyway, welcoming the burn. It was something to focus on besides the disaster my life was becoming.
Kent had been here for not even two days, and he’d already managed to upend everything. The kitchen was a mess despite his promises to clean up. He left wet towels on the bathroom floor. He ate my food, drank my beer, and acted like I was the one being unreasonable when I asked him to show even the slightest consideration.
And the worst part? The absolute worst part was that some pathetic corner of my brain still wanted his approval. Still wanted him to look at me and see someone worth respecting instead of the punching bag he’d always seen.
I closed my eyes and slid down until the water covered my ears, muffling the world above. Under the water, everything was quiet. Peaceful. I could stay here forever, I thought. Just sink down and disappear and let someone else deal with the Kent problem and the money problem and the constant, crushing weight of never being quite good enough.
But I didn’t. I surfaced, gasping, water streaming down my face.
Because that’s what I did. I survived. I endured. I took whatever shit life threw at me and I kept going, because what other choice did I have?
I stayed in the bath until the water went lukewarm, until my fingers pruned and my skin felt raw from the heat. When I finally climbed out, I wrapped a towel around my waist and stood there for a moment, staring at the soggy cardboard box still decomposing in the corner of my bathroom. Kent still hadn’t dealt with it. Of course he hadn’t.
I picked up the disintegrating mess and carried it to the trash can in the kitchen. Kent didn’t even glance up from the TV as I passed, dropping the soaking box into the bin with a wet thud.
The dishes from this morning were still in the sink. Unwashed. Exactly where he’d left them.
I walked over to the couch and stood directly between Kent and the television, water still dripping down my skin.
“Move,” he said, waving a hand at me.
“No.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “We need to talk.”
“Jesus Christ, James. Can it wait until halftime?”
“No. It can’t.” I crossed my arms over my bare chest, very aware that I was standing here in nothing but a towel, but too angry to care. “You haven’t even been here for two days, and you’ve already broken every promise you made. The dishes. The mess. The noise. And now you cost me a fifteen-hundred-dollar job because you couldn’t be bothered to knock quietly or wait five minutes.”
Kent finally looked at me, and I saw the flash of annoyance cross his face. But then his eyes widened and he swallowed hard, his gaze raking across my body. “Why are you naked?”
“I’m not naked and don’t change the subject,” I barked. “What the hell is wrong with you, Kent? You’re usually not this dense.”
He tried to turn his gaze away, but he couldn’t seem to stop staring at me for some reason.
