Elijah
Well, you sure don’t look fresh as a daisy this morning,” John comments, and I drop my work bag onto my desk with a thud.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you only hired me for such shallow reasons as my appearance.”
The words leave my mouth before I can think better of them, and I take a deep breath to ward off the rest of my desire to snap and tear him to pieces verbally.
Wrong target, Eli.
“I certainly didn’t hire you for your sunny disposition, either,” he grumbles back, turning to make himself a cup of coffee at the bar across the room.
I sigh.“Sorry, sir. I’ve had a long night.”
As I begin to unpack my things, I can feel my boss turn to look at me while he sips from his mug.
“I take it going to Rowan’s house didn’t go so well?”
“No, it didn’t. Some girl was there,” I say.
John audibly chokes on his coffee, and I eye him for a moment before I plop down into my office chair in defeat.
“Agirl? At Rowan’s?” When I nod, John gives me a quizzical look. “Are you sure? He’s never so much as looked at a woman from town.”
“She wasn’t from town. I’ve never seen her before. He told me that they’re friends.”
“Oh, then what’s the problem?” John asks the question as if he thinks I’m crazy for being in a mood over this.
“The problem is that she was half naked. And on top of that, Rowan has banned me from coming into his house because ofprivacy reasons, but this woman can stay the night.”
“Oh.” John frowns deeply, leaning back against the counter as he thinks for a moment. “Yes, that is very weird. You’ve been inside before, ya?”
“Yep. Doesn’t make any sense, right?”
“No, it doesn’t,” he agrees.
Great, so I’m not crazy after all.
I was up all night wondering if I was being dramatic or sensitive about the whole situation. Replaying the day’s events over and over while I try to make sense of them.
But nothing began to pan out differently, and no matter how I spun it, it’s fucking weird.
Rowan came all the way to my apartment, most likely afterMarissatold him I had come by. He looked as if he threw on the closest articles of clothing to him, and his face told me he was in a straight panic.
Pleading and desperate, he stood on my doorstep. But what was I supposed to do? When I asked him why she was allowed in his space, yet I am not, and Rowan said nothing—only looking at me as if I’d pulled a rug out from under him—was I supposed to just accept this outcome? Was I intended to see the panic in those vivid green eyes and comfort him?
I know nothing of the way the emotions of this world work, and I find it incredibly unfair to be put in this position.
Am I meant to hurt myself for his comfort? Or am I right to run?
And fuck… I miss him. I miss his voice and his warmth and the future his comfort promised me.
Without realizing it, I had begun to picture a world in which the two of us were together. Maybe that is my one issue.
It is quite embarrassing to be twenty-six and to be falling so quickly. Wanting a future with someone after two and a half weeks? I may not know much, but evenIfeel that is pathetic.
“Whatever,” I say to John, setting my laptop down rather hard after I pull it from my bag. “I don’t need a boyfriend, anyway. I’ve spent my entire life being happier alone; I don’t need to become suddenly reliant. Hook-up culture has never failed me.”
John’s worried gaze continues to cut into me as I pull up our website and open a few documents I’ve been working on. He says nothing further, which I am eternally grateful for. I fear that if he pushes any more, I might break down and cry.
