Page 25 of Hide From Me

I throw the door open so fast it bangs the wall. “I’m fine.”

Both of them flinch.

“Woah,” Laura says, hands up. “Just worried.”

“Can you blame us?” Jack mutters.

“No,” I admit, voice thin. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Laura presses gently, eyes shifting past me like she can’t meet mine.

I stare at Jack wanting—no, needing—him to say anything that might ease this sudden pressure settling on my chest but he simply gives a weak smile.

“It’s been a year. That’s all. Just a number.”

The words fall out too fast, and their silence says more than anything they could say aloud.

“Stop acting like it’s some sort of omen,” I snap. “He’s probably in jail somewhere. Or dead. Either way, I’m here. I survived.”

“With this house, anything is an omen,” Jack teases, pulling me into his side, and for once, I don’t fight it.

“We need drinks,” Laura blurts. “Now.”

“Drinks. Yay,” I grumble, pulling away from Jack's hold. It's pathetic how much I wish I were with Moe instead. He doesn’t try to force me to smile or silence my worries by brushing them off. Instead, he allows me to have my depressing and gloomy moments to wallow in my misery. He accepts the dark cloud that follows me and understands that sometimes I just want it to rain.

I genuinely appreciate Jack and Laura's attempts to lift my spirits. I know it's not healthy to bottle everything up, but they don't understand, and they never will. I won't let them. I slip into the kitchen, out of their sight, to grab the vodka. However, as I approach the freezer, I pull out my phone. With a few curses under my breath, I send the text that I know I shouldn't.

Hurry back, monster.

It's still casual, and I want it to stay that way. I can think of it as making a best friend like Jack or Laura. The only difference is that Iwillfuck this one. I want that power back over my body, and I need to feel the control of choosing who can and can’t touch it.

“I’ve got vodka!” I call out.

“Since when did you start smoking?” Jack calls out, and I freeze in the worn-down archway between my kitchen and living area, barely balancing the drinks and mugs in my hands.

Laura pulls a cigarette from the red and white pack and instantly starts puffing on it like it’s clean air rather than a cancerous stick. I don’t smoke–I saw a man smoking the other day, and the strong tobacco scent immediately brought Moe to mind, minus the subtle cologne that clings to his hoodies. So, I bought a pack, but after doing so, I felt like an idiot. I thought the pack in my bookshelf would make me feel less foolish, but now it’s firmly grasped in Jack's hand, taunting me.

“I never started,” I grumble as I lay out the glasses to pour us each a generous shot. I hesitate for a moment as Laura lets out a long exhale, and the scent surrounds me like a warm blanket.

“Then why do you have them?” she prods.

Finding my sense of self, I glare in her direction. Why are they asking so many questions anyway? I never pry into their business, so what gives them the right to do it to mine? Drawing in a breath, I set down the large-necked bottle and pick up my deck.

“A friend left them here,” I lie, and Jack laughs.

“Thefriend? Damn, you two worked quickly.”

I knock back my shot, not correcting Jack. I’ve already started my lie, so there’s no sense in backing down now.

“A mystery boy? Count me intrigued,” Laura says, her interest piqued. Mysterious, yes, but "boy"? He’s far from it.

I correct her, “It’s ‘mystery man,’” grimacing as the alcohol burns its way down my throat.

“And he’ll stay that way,” I growl, hoping he will keep his mouth shut. I don’t want to explain my way of healing to someone who won’t understand. Laura is a really good friend, but she doesn’t strike me as the type who would grasp that some people mend their broken parts by allowing someone else to be the glue for a short time.

“That he is,” Jack says with a smirk. My jaw drops, and my eyes narrow. Coming from a man who had complained for days about how “scary” Moe was, he certainly seems interested now. I scan the room for something to throw at him that won’t damage my property or his face, but all I can settle on is a skip card. I’ve been so focused on the irritation he caused that I almost forgot I had previously reversed the deck, which means the card now skips Laura instead. Jack instantly slaps down a draw four.

“Are you hiding cards up your sleeve?” I yell, and he laughs.

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