Page 8 of Refusing Kendall

I’ve got roughly about an hour before the lab, so I lay claim to one of the concrete picnic tables spread around campus. Opening up my laptop, I get started on a paper that I’m supposed to be writing for my comp class. This one is so easy I could do it with my eyes closed.

I’m about halfway finished with the paper when I get the strangest feeling of being watched. It’s just one of those chills down your spine, instincts kind of things. Trying not to be too obvious, I pick up my drink and pretend to take a look around as I take a sip.

There’s a couple off to my left in the grass. The chick has her head in the guy’s lap and both of their noses are stuck in books. Doubt it was either one of them. I’m not sitting too far from the coffee place, so I suppose it could have just been someone coming out of there. Either way, there’s no one here now. Just to be on the safe side, I pack up my stuff and head towards the lab earlier than I had originally planned.

The rest of the day drags by slower than Christmas. After the lab, I head home. Campus is literally across the street from the house, so I don’t bother with taking a car most days. I walk like I typically do. Although today I wish I would have considered driving. Dark clouds sit low in the sky, and it looks as though the bottom could drop out at any second. Thankfully, it holds off until I’ve made it in the house, since I didn’t think to bring my umbrella today.

My relief is short lived as I walk into a quiet house. Knowing that I won’t get to see the guys tonight is disheartening. However, I’m not one to sulk, so I decide to keep myself busy with some mindless tasks.

Turning some classic rock on my music app, I stuff my phone in my back pocket. I gather all of the laundry from everyone’s rooms to take downstairs. It doesn’t take me long, because though my guys may be spoiled rich boys, they clean up after themselves. So, it’s as easy as dumping what little they have in my overflowing basket.

I haul it downstairs and make another trip up to grab towels from the bathrooms.

The guys’ is closer so I drop them at the stairs in the kitchen. When I turn the corner going into my hallway, I freeze. One of the guys must have turned the light off in my bathroom, because the hall is pitch black, and my door is shut.

It’s completely irrational to be this scared of the dark, and I know this. That knowledge doesn’t stop the sweat from breaking out across my forehead or the racing of my heart.

I feel like one of those stupid chicks in a horror movies when I call out, “Hello” into the darkness.

“Goddamn it, Kendall. Get your shit together,” I chide myself out loud.

Stomping down the hall, I flip the switch inside the bathroom door illuminating the room and proving just how ridiculous I am.

I shake my head at my anxiety as I gather all of the towels up and walk back to the other pile in the kitchen. Carrying them all downstairs, I toss them in the wash first. As I shut the lid and start it up, I prop my hip against it. “Christ. When did I become such a puss?” I question out loud again.

There may be a solution to my problem, but I’ll have to talk to the guys about it first. For now, I’m just going to finish cleaning what I started.

I vacuum all three levels of the house, then clean the bathrooms and kitchen. Hell, I even dust the main pieces of furniture. And that’s saying something, because I truly hate dusting. Somewhere in between, I switch the towels out for a load of black clothes. By the time I’m done with everything, the towels are dry.

Setting them on the couch beside me, I fire up Netflix to turn on a movie from my must watch list that Goose gave me. Halfway through the movie, the other clothes get done. As I go to fold them, I’m super glad that none of the guys have the same taste in clothes. All of the shirts I can tell apart, and they are wear different styles or brands of underwear, making it super easy. Their jeans are a completely different story. I had to resort to putting the guys’ initials on the backside of the tag in their jeans after my first laundry fiasco when I mixed everything up. They don’t know that they are there, of course. I laugh at the image I see of their faces in my head were I to tell them how I’m avoiding another disaster.

After I’ve got all the clothes folded and put away, I scarf down some of the leftover lasagna we had for dinner last night. It’s not as good, but I think that has more to do with the company than anything. It gets really fucking lonely around here when I’m by myself. I know that they can’t help it and would be here if they could. That doesn’t make it any easier, though.

Since everything is caught up, and I’ve got a jumpstart on all of my homework, I opt for a long bath instead of a shower tonight. I let the water run longer than I should and as hot as I can stand it. Propping my phone on the side of the tub, I turn the movie back on from downstairs. Kill two birds with one stone since I can’t stand the silence, and Goose has been pestering me for weeks to watch this movie.

I’ve only made it about fifteen more minutes into the movie when Lucas’ face pops up on my screen. I won’t lie and say that my heart doesn’t skip a beat when I see it. Drying my hand off quickly, I hit the answer button, realizing about a second too late that it’s a FaceTime call.

“Well hello, gorgeous,” his voice says before I see his face.

“Hey,baby,” I reply just as the screen clears, and I get a flash of an eye crinkling smile.

“Looks like I picked the perfect time to call,” he says with a wink.

I check myself in the little box in the corner and even though I’m covered, you can definitely see that I’m in the tub.

“I guess so,” I smile back. “I missed you today.”

“Yeah?” He asks, “How much?”

I know he’s trying to be cute, but after just having my pathetic little pity party at dinner and being scared out of my wits by the dark, I answer honestly, “A lot more than I probably should.”

Of course, he picks up on it instantly, “What is it? What’s wrong, baby?”

The last thing I want him to do is worry when he’s already got so much going on, so I tell him enough of the truth, though not all of it, “It just gets kind of lonely here by myself sometimes.”

His face shows how bad he feels, but he still says it anyways, “I’m sorry. I know this shit sucks. I wish I could be there every night with you. Just remember, it won’t be like this next year, and after the season is over we can sleep wherever we damn well please. So just a little longer.”

I nod, “I know. I’m not trying to complain or make life harder on anyone. I actually wanted to...”

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