Page 3 of On the Line

Zachary, on the other hand, has not stopped pestering me with questions since he first showed up to help me move. He nearly had a fit in the parking lot when he learned that my new roommate was a guy. I placated him as best I could, unwilling to have another one of our classic public fights whenthiswas much more important.

This, as in: Uprooting my entire life in the span of an early winter morning.

Whatever I told Zachary earlier to stop his interrogation has seemed to work … for now. It hasn’t stopped him from bad-mouthing everything about this place in the meantime. Luckily, Steve isn’t here. He came during his lunch break to let me in, handed me a set of keys, and left shortly thereafter.

It was quite unceremonious for something that feels so monumental.

Pushing the front door open, I walk into my new apartment. Zachary follows right behind me, dropping my suitcase on the floor while he lets out a curse.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jamie. You can’t be serious.” Pushing his hair back from his face, his eyes dart around the room with what looks like disgust, lips pressed into a thin line.

To my left is a small half-open kitchen, the brown vinyl cupboards looking like they’ve never been renovated since the inception of this apartment complex.

“It’s … quaint,” I mutter with an assured shrug as I try to ignore how cramped the living room looks, a threadbare couch facing a decade-old TV, surrounded by yellowing white walls with an old poster of Arnold Schwarzenegger as decoration.

I keep a resolute expression on my face but inside my stomach sinks.

Never have I lived in a place so bleak.

But I would ratherdiethan admit those thoughts to Zachary. I huff an errant strand of light pink hair away from my clammy cheek before looking over at him. His nose is still turned up, a sour expression marring his round face while he takes it all in.

“Can you just … not, for once?” I ask gruffly.

His eyes slowly slide to mine. “Jamie.” He says my name with such a condescending lilt that it practically makes my skin crawl. “No one we know would be caughtdeadliving in a place like this. You can’t be serious.” He sweeps a hand toward the living room as if to further prove his point. Then lowers his voice before saying, “This is embarrassing.”

Ire slices through my chest, a thousand insults on the tip of my tongue but I swallow all of them back down. I know better by now than to believe I could ever speak that way to him without any dire repercussions. I shoot him a murderous look instead and head for the hallway next to the living room.

I find my bedroom empty. A few dust balls trailing lazily across the crooked floor welcome me to my new life. Scanning the room, I notice a dirty window on the opposite wall. It faces the parking lot, letting in a trickle of light, the rays illuminating the dust hanging in the air.

I spot Zachary’s incredulous expression from the corner of my eye. “This place doesn’t come furnished?”

I stifle an eye roll. “I’ll get an air mattress,” I say, crossing my arms. “Anyway, don’t you have lacrosse practice to get to?”

The small empty room falls silent. “Yeah, I guess I should leave,” he grumbles from behind me. Turning around, I kiss him on the cheek out of habit. I regret my decision immediately when the smell of his cologne hits my nostrils, immediately making me nauseous.

I take a step back, cloudy memories choking me even more than the scent itself.

“Did you change your cologne?”

Zachary’s eyebrows dip. “Ran out. Borrowed Spencer’s, why?”

Just the name of his best friend makes my stomach churn but I casually play it off in front of my boyfriend. “No reason.” I turn away, reaching for one of my suitcases. “Thanks for the help.”

I don’t mean it. But there’s a lot I tell Zachary that I don’t truly mean just to pacify him. This time it’s just to get him out of here.

“I’ll call you later,” he says with a quick tap of his fingers on the doorframe and finallyleaves—taking his rank attitude with him.

I listen to his steps through the apartment, then the sound of the front door closing before I let out a relieved sigh. I don’t even know why I asked for his help in the first place.

Walking back into the kitchen, I drag the rest of my belongings into the bedroom. I stand in the middle of the space and take a deep breath, letting the silence settle all around me.

Then I burst out into sobs.

I’m not even sure what I’m crying about, it could be a multitude of things at this point. All I know is that it feels necessary to cry and the resulting catharsis allows me to think straight.

Slumping my body onto the floor, I sit and stare off into space.

I stay motionless for what feels like forever.

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