I’m a basturt. I know it.
“You could be a little fucking nicer. As if living with you wasn’t bad enough.”
“When you actually get sober, maybe we can talk about how mean I am.”
I grab my keys off of the coffee table, comparing my key to the one from Tristian’s wallet.
This is definitely a copy of the key to our apartment. I set my keys down, go out the front door, and shut it behind me. If I’m wrong, then I just locked myself out of the apartment, but I’m that confident.
“Whatever, Peter.”
“I don’t want Danny around him. I don’t want him in my apartment. I’ve made myself clear multiple times. I don’t care if you love him and hate me, you still have to listen to me while you live under my roof.”
“You keep saying it’s your apartment like you’re the only one that lives there.”
“I’m the only one who pays the bills around here, so yes, it’s my apartment. How many times should I explain that to you?”
I insert the key into the knob and twist. It turns. I’m not locked out. I walk back inside and lock the door behind me. No one’s getting in here without my say-so.
“We have to talk when you get home.”
“Why?
“We just have to talk.”
“Are you gonna fucking lose it and yell at me again? I’ll be home in like an hour.”
“Don’t bring him here. He is not allowed inside of this apartment. Do you hear me?”
“What am I, your child?”
“Stop acting like it, and I won’t have to talk to you this way.”
“I know, I heard you. I’ll tell him,” she says...but not to me. She’s not alone.
“Who are you talking to right now?”
“Tristian. He needs his wallet back.”
“Oh, perfect. You’re with him now? Great. Don’t worry, he’ll get it back.”
I hear a click. She hung up on me. Fuck her, I don’t care. I tuck the key into my pocket and walk back up the stairs. Now I have two.
Hayley
TRISTIAN AND I AREwalking back from McDonald’s. We’re almost at the apartment. He seems frustrated. I’m actually very scared for Peter. I can’t forget what Tristian said, even if it was “just an idea.”
“That motherfucker better not have taken any money out of my wallet,” he grumbles and kicks a pebble on the sidewalk.
How can I calm him down? How do I convince him that Peter won’t act like an asshole? Hell, how do I convince myself that Peter won’t act like an asshole? He’s definitely going to act like an asshole.
“You didn’t have any money in your wallet.”
“I had a few bucks. He better not have taken my condom. That’s the last one!”
“He didn’t take your condom. Trust me.”
Really, Tristian? We can get free condoms at the clinic. Plus, Peter’s allergic to latex, but I’m definitely not going to tell Tristian that.