Page 26 of Fated Shot

I shake off the thought. It’s for the best. I’m going to forget about my momentary lapse of judgment and flawed spontaneity. Hooking up with a guy who has a revolving door of girls available isn't going to help me work through my baggage. So, I’m going back to my weird limbo, and I’m freeing Jack Brody to go about his life. No harm, no foul.

Deciding to not reply to his text is my way of willing that whole night out of existence. The most mature way to handle the situation? Absolutely not, but self-preservation comes in many forms.

I get out of bed, get dressed, and start loading up my car. It takes me almost forty-five minutes and five trips to get all the boxes packed in. I really need to get a rolling cart or wagon if I’m going to keep this up for the rest of the year. At least this arm workout is a decent distraction.

And distraction is good. I feel a bit relieved when I check Waze and see that the trip to the nearest Canada Post drop-off will take longer due to heavy traffic. It’s something to look forward to, at least.

***

Jack

You fucking blew it.

It’s all I kept repeating to myself last night. The second I stepped out of her apartment and into the hallway, as I was struggling to adjust myself in the elevator, even as I wandered around the city aimlessly trying to clear my head. It was nearly midnight when I worked up the courage to send just one text,‘I’m sorry.’

Sorry for letting this get so out of hand, sorry for kissing her, sorry for not being able to keep it in my fucking pants and scaring her off. After barely two hours of sleep, I’m jolted awake by a pounding on the door, followed by the click of the lock. Checking my phone, a flood of notifications pop up, but none from Mia. Settling into the disappointment, I read the notifs.

6:52 am Penn:U awake?

7:02 am Penn:Coffee & run?

7:11 am Penn:Hello

7:18 am Missed Call from Penn

7:19 am Missed Call from Penn

“BRODY?” I hear the concerned voice call out, followed by frantic footsteps.

“Shoes off, Penn,” I shout down.

I hear a shuffle, followed by more quick steps, and suddenly, his face emerges up the stairs to the loft.

“Bro, I thought you died,” he says with a sigh of relief as he climbs into my bed to hug me.

“Penn, that key is for emergencies only. You can’t just barge in here anytime you feel like it,” I warn, moving out of his reach. I stand up, walk over to my dresser and throw a pair of sweatpants over my boxers.

“You weren’t answering! I thought itwasan emergency!” He adds, “Sound always on, remember?”

Oh, I remember. A rule that’s proven itself necessary on a multitude of occasions.

“I came in late, couldn’t sleep. I must have crashed around four and just slept through the alerts.”

“Why were you out so late?”

“Oh, uh, I wasn’t.”

He looks over at me with a puzzled expression. “You just said you were?”

Fuck, I’m too tired for this right now. “I was on a date, alright?”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he walks over, throwing one arm over my shoulder. “With your mystery girl?”

“What, no. Just—just some girl I met.”

“Atta boy!” he exclaims way too loudly. “Tell me everything.”

“Penn, I’m not discussing this with you right now. I need caffeine, let’s go,” I say as we stroll out of my apartment.

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