“Nope,” I answer with a ring of finality, and I’m not just talking about the bar.
“Do you have other plans? I’m open to other possibilities.” She doesn’t give up easily or take the hint.
“Just me and my bed…alone,” I reply, adding the last part quickly so she doesn’t think it’s a proposition for her.
“You’re staying here tonight?” KJ’s brows are furrowed with confusion.
“Yeah.” I don’t feel the need to elaborate.
KJ lets out a heavy breath, making his nostrils flare. I’m not happy about it either, dickhead. “I thought you were staying with your brother,” KJ says like he’s reminding me and I might change my mind about being here.
“We could swap roomies for the night. Nina can stay here, and Oz can stay in our room,” the girl offers, picking up on the notion that KJ wants to be alone with the chick he was cuddled up with.
“I’ve been staying with my girl, not at my brother’s.” I give them the truth, hoping it will deter any more offers.
“Uh-oh, looks like somebody got in trouble,” the girl singsongs. “A lot of girls can’t handle their man getting attention.”
“That has nothing to do with it,” I retort defensively.
“But you admit you did get in trouble. What happened?” She comes a little closer to my bed, pretending to be a soft ear, someone I can tell my problems to.
“No, I didn’t admit shit, you assumed.” I feel strangely protective about Waylynn being upset. I know she had a reason to be mad, but I’m not explaining that to this girl or anyone else here.
She places her drink on the table next to my bed and lifts her hands apologetically. “I’m just talking to you. You seem upset.”
“Yeah, whatever. Are you guys going out or what?” I drop down on my bed, but I’m rethinking staying here after all. Maybe I should suck it up and go stay with Memphis. His brooding ass will be easier to deal with than this. I look down to check the time on my phone, and the next thing I know, I feel something land on my lap.
The moment I register what’s happening, I put my hands on her hips to push her off while she tries to apologize and pretend it was an accident that she fell on top of me. “Yeah fucking right.” I roll my eyes. Talk about stupid. Does she think because her ass touched my dick, I’m going to get all bricked up and want her now?
“I tripped on the rug,” she continues.
“And fell on my lap? Doubtful. I don’t have the patience for this shit.” I leave my bag on my bed and walk to the door.
“I told you he was a dick,” KJ says before I’m even out of the room.
“Fuck off,” I tell him without even bothering to look back over my shoulder.
Memphis
The angerI felt the moment I saw the pill bottle with no label has continued to fade since walking away from Waylynn’s house, leaving me feeling mostly embarrassed, with breakthrough moments of anger at her for not just telling me what they were and explaining herself when I asked. I know it’s completely misplaced, but it’s easier than thinking about how badly I fucked up.
When I reach my apartment, I don’t even remember how I got there, my feet carrying me from habit more than anything else. Without even turning on a light, I head to the fridge because I don’t know what else to do with myself. I end up closing it after staring at the contents for several long seconds, realizing I’m not hungry anymore, not that there’s much in there anyway.
I look around, feeling a bunch of crap I’m not used to dealing with, like loneliness, but the worst is the helplessness, because there’s a part of me that’s convinced I was right about the pills and maybe Waylynn does have a problem, and I don’t know if there’s anything I can do about it.
The temptation to call her is so overwhelming, I leave my phone on the counter in an attempt to distance myself from the opportunity and walk over to sit on the couch.
I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting in the dark when there’s a knock on my door. My heart starts beating fast, thinking it could be her, but the thought dies just as quickly as it was formed. She doesn’t even know where I live.
I debate if I should just ignore the knock, but realistically, there’s only one person it could be and he has a key, so I don’t know why he’s knocking at all.
“It’s open,” I croak out. I haven’t spoken in a while, and it’s evident in my voice.
The knob turns, and Oswald slowly pops his head in the door, like he doesn’t know what he’s going to find. Our eyes meet, and there’s an exchange between us. He’s still pissed, but not mad enough that he’s willing to be in the dorms. I guess I’ll take what I can get.
He shuts the door behind him and drops onto the other end of our shitty futon. The lights are still off, so I can’t see his face without the glow from the hall, not that I really want to. The silence stretches between us, uncomfortable and awkward, until Oz eventually breaks and admits, “They were partying in the dorms. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
That feels like an intentional dig at me, but I’m probably just feeling guilty we’re not at Waylynn’s house, because his tone isn’t confrontational.
