Page 18 of Before We Were Us

I barely remained on my stool and him, hell he practically danced his way out of the pub.

To be honest I don’t remember getting into the cab or telling them where my place was. Yet, here I am, locking the door behind me and seeing double as I look around my place.

When I originally moved into this cracker jack box it was in a hurry. Shit fell apart and I needed a place fast. Tied into a six month lease I expected after that to find something better but when the time rolled around I was too wrapped up with work to look for something different. I decided it was best to renew for another six months.

I regret that now.

It has no character, or windows. Just a long skinny layout, with one window in the bedroom allowing in a small fraction of natural light. Everything is white, even the tiled floors. It seems sterile, and boring.

I’ve never taken the time to decorate or hang even one picture on the wall. Honestly it’s never felt like a home, it’s merely a place to lay my head at night.

Tossing my keys on the counter, I pull my phone and wallet out of my pocket and notice the flashing green light indicating a notification I’ve missed.

Trying to focus on the screen I drop my wallet and it makes a thud against the floor.

An unread text message stares back at me when I wake my phone and her name practically jumps off the screen. Even in my drunken stupor excitement soars through me.

Brynn: Having a drink at Chaos if you want to join me.

“Fuck,” I mumble. I’d been waiting for one message, a two-second call, anything and she chooses to send one the minute I lose hope and drink until I can’t think straight.

I tap out a message in a hurry, and hit send. Grabbing my wallet I tuck it back in my pocket and wait for her to respond.

twelve

. . .

Brynnlee

Rolling over in bed I reach for my phone on my bedside table and squint at the awaiting message.

Steele: Wh er yop bei now?

I read it a few times, wondering what on earth he was trying to say. Sitting up in bed I pull the covers around me and read it one more time.

Finally giving up, I tap the green button and bring the phone to my ear. It rings twice before someone answers and then there is a thumping noise followed by a rough sliding, as if the phone is skidding across a floor or table.

Someone says hello, then hello again but it sounds far away.

I hold the phone tighter, then without warning his voice shouts hello again and I quickly move the phone away from my ear.

“Brynn?”

“Yes.” I laugh, imagining all the different scenarios that led to such a rough entry to this call.

“Shit,” he sighs, “sorry. I dropped my phone.”

“Sounded more like you tossed it into oncoming traffic.”

“Where are you?” he asks and I swear I hear a door slam.

“Home,” I say, hearing him mumble something. “Why?”

There is a thud and he groans. I feel like this is the weirdest interaction I have ever had with another human being in my life. There is entirely too much unexplainable noise taking place on the opposite end of this call and I’m afraid to ask what is really going on. But without me asking he falls into a long-winded explanation that leaves me speechless.

“I missed your text. I was with Connor and had finally accepted the idea that you’d ghosted me. So I let him get me drunk and I’m not even sure how I actually got home but here I am. I’m sitting outside my apartment, on the floor. I seem to have locked my keys inside and here you are calling me. This night couldn’t be more of a mess.”

I bite my lip, unsure of what to say.

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