He shrugs. “I don’t know. Abuela told him he shouldn’t let you see him like that.”
I couldn’t help the disappointment that tugs at my heart; it’s not like I should expect anything different. It’s been years, but loving someone with an addiction is a hard thing. Nothing like expecting them to change, only for them to spit in your face and make you feel like you’re not good enough. It’s a contradictory cocktail of emotions. Part of me longs for the man he used to be, while the other grieves for him. And no matter how much I try to escape it, in the game and in real life, the storm closes in.
“Ahh, you died. You suck!” Erikson chants, using his fingers to do an L. “Loser!”
I huff out a breath. “Maybe this game sucks.”
With that, I hand him the remote, and thankfully, Nico’s done on the phone. Unfortunately, he’s brooding and resting his forehead on the cool surface of the counter.
“You seriously look pathetic, and I mean that in the most loving way.”
He doesn’t bother to look up. I can tell he’s focusing on his breathing, trying not to lose his shit. It’s just too much for him to bear. My hand moves to console him, but he recoils away before I have a chance to. As if sensing the need, he snaps, “Don’t.”
He brushes past me and locks himself in the bathroom. I walk back to the room where I slept and notice my phone isn’t in my pocket. Opening the door to the room, I locate it sitting on top of the bed. I saunter over, pick it up, and look down at the screen. Finally, reading all four unopened messages from Thiago.
Safra:
How’s Nico?
Safra:
Stop ignoring me.
Safra:
Should I go there myself? C’mon, just text back.
Safra:
Ur needed tonight.
The last message is the only one I reply to, only because of obligation—nothing else.
Me:
Time.
Bubbles appear immediately and then disappear and reappear until finally a message comes through.
Safra:
9 pm, warehouse lot 8. I’ll pick you up at 8.
My stomach knots, my thumb lingers on the screen, unsure of how to answer. I rode my bike here, and honestly, I didn’t want him anywhere near Nico’s home. Or mine. That’s too close to my world, past the walls I keep him out of. One thing is Nico, and another is my life. Finally, I respond.
Me:
I’ll head back to the dorm. Link up there.
I keep it short, and I know that pisses him off more than anything. I find myself smiling at the screen, watching as the bubbles continue their dance. I’ll ignore him again, but it would be a lie to say that some part of me didn't enjoy getting under his skin just as much as I enjoyed… I shake the thought out of my head. I can’t let myself go there. Not with him.
I’m just horny and need to blow off some steam. Ever since that fucking kiss, my mind has been in shambles, and Nico’s relationship problems are only highlighting my own. Just as I goto place my phone in my pocket, an unknown message comes in, causing my heart to fall into my ass.
Unknown:
Lose tonight. And meet me out by the shipment containers.
My stomach knots, my hands shake, and disbelief causes me to plop down on the corner of the bed. I don’t write back, because there’s no need to. I don’t have a choice; this isn’t a request.
