Page 23 of Encounter

Am I sad he’s leaving? Who would’ve thought I would welcome such a chaotic presence?

Of course, I was relieved to be able to play uninterrupted again, and since it didn’t look like there was any more danger looming outside, I didn’t exactly need a bodyguard anymore.

Nodding to myself even long after Chast was downstairs, I dropped the book next to me and decided to follow him to say goodbye. No matter what happened the night before—and as pathetic as I felt realizing the fact—Chast was the best company I had in a while.

He was nearly done by the time I stumbled into the main hall. His gun sat on the table close to the door. Next to it was a plastic bag with his bloody clothes from the night before. When Chast walked out of the kitchen after disposing of the empty takeout boxes, with a travel bag over his shoulder, he looked surprised to see me waiting there.

Before he got a chance to say anything, I took the opportunity and blurted out what was on my mind before chickening out again.

“Thanks for... saving my life,” I said, swallowing the uncomfortable lump in my throat, earning a charismatic smile from him. “I know you got paid for it but... still. And thanks for... attempting to make my life a little more interesting, yesterday.” I didn’t know why I even mentioned it. I never wanted to remember that moment again—me sitting there with the pretty redhead, feeling insufficient and broken—but somehow, I felt like I owed a thanks to him, no matter how catastrophically it all ended.

Like he said—he just felt sorry for me, and I can’t blame him.

Instead of a response, Chast silently watched me. A spark danced in his brown eyes, until he made a few long steps toward me. With my heart rate dangerously out of control and cheeks ablaze, I stared somewhere next to his head, trying to keep calm and avoid his gaze, which was pretty awkward, considering we were the same height.

Is he too close, or is it all in my head? What is he doing?

“You’ll be fine,” Chast said in a low voice—sounding almost mellow, soft. “My advice? Don’t let life walk over you. The fact you’re gay don’t mean you can’t be a man—or stand up for yourself.” As he leaned close and his hot breath hit my cheek, I was sure he was going to touch me.

He didn’t. Instead, he reached for his gun next to me and stepped away with a brief smirk flashing over his face. “You’re alive—so make somethin’ out of it. Good luck,” he said in the middle of the open front door and walked out.

For a good moment, I couldn’t do or say anything. Even though I heard the door shut, I had to blink and shake my head to realize it all really happened. I dashed to the window to check if the car really was gone from the driveway.

It was. I was all alone again.The adventure is over.

I stared at the window, deep breaths escaping through my parted lips. The house was undisturbed and quiet once again, but the mark Chast left was still there. His smell lingered—a strange mixture of metal, salt, and cigarette smoke.

And I couldn’t quite put my finger on what that was...

As soon as I unlockedthe door to my apartment, I released a loud, satisfied sigh. Throwing the bag in the corner next to the shoe rack, I slammed the door behind me and looked around my home, expecting the welcoming committee.

“Where’s my girl?!” I called out melodically, opening my arms in a squat and waited for the signature plod accompanied by excited chirping. Gracefully rushing toward me was the lady of the house, with her tail held high in excitement to finally see me again. “There she is!” I grinned, letting the cat pounce on me with the skill of a trained circus monkey before hugging her snugly. “Missed me, Kitty?” I cooed at her as we walked toward the couch.

Judging by the mess she made in the apartment, she certainly was. As I sank into the stretched out, worn fabric and rested back, it hit differently than the hard, snobbish crap I slept on in the De Clareresidence. Here, I could finally wind down. Presented with all the familiar smells, homey clutter, and outright mess, I was at peace.

Not so much when I looked around, assessing the damage—empty cat food pouches pulled out of the trashcan spread out on the kitchen floor, books fallen off the shelf next to my office area, dry food scattered around the food bowl...

---