Page 19 of Run Away Home: Tempered

Chapter Four

Peter

IT’S HARD TO BELIEVEwe’ve been in the apartment for two weeks. The days are melting into one. Didn’t I just do this? Oh yeah, yesterday.

Every day is the same. The monotony, it’s killing me already. Waiting tables, serving drinks, waiting tables, serving drinks... Bussing tables, cleaning the bar... Cooking dinner, cleaning the apartment. I’m a professional servant. Don’t think about it! Thinking about it is what caused—

NO! Don’t think about it.

Maybe monotony is better than excitement.

I get out of the car and walk to the apartment. The front door is unlocked, so I go right inside. The TV is very loud, typical. I walk up the stairs, hang my keys on the hook, and...

There he is again, the clatty basturt.Tristian.

He’s sitting on the couch with the remote in his greasy fingers. This time, he has his feet on my coffee table, wearing muddy sneakers, and... Cheetos. They’re spilt all over, in between his ankles, and the bag is on the floor! I still haven’t paid off that coffee table!

This guy is fucking with me. I can’t let him.

My chest puffs out. “Turn the TV down!”

“What?” he asks, still staring at the TV.

“TURN THE TV DOWN!”

“I really can’t hear you, Paul.”

I stomp toward him, enraged, and rip the remote out of his hand. As I bend to face him, he looks confused, like I’m the rocket. I glance at the table, then pick up a handful of Cheetos with one hand. With my other hand, I knock his feet off my table—hard. I’m not playing.

“My name is Peter, not Paul.” I hold the Cheetos up to his face. “And in Peter’s fucking apartment, we don’t put our feet on the table. We don’t spill crap all over the place.” I throw the Cheetos onto his lap. “That’s where you like them, right?”

“Yo, calm down.”

“I will not calm down until you show me some respect in my house!”

“Apartment.”

“Where the fuck is Hayley?”

“She’s smoking.”

I stand upright, forcing myself to calm down. I brush the Cheetos dust off of my clothes.

“Outside?”

“Yeah...” He stares at me.

She’s smoking outside? She actually listened to me.

“Oh. Okay.”

“What’s your fucking problem? Haven’t gotten any in a while?”

“What did you just say to me?”

“Sex? Seems like you’re not too good with ladies. I mean, she tells me you pay for everything. You clean and cook, but she still doesn’t want you.”

“Get out of my apartment.” I plant one hand on my hip, and the other signals to the door.

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