Page 7 of Wasted On You

Tonight didn’t leave me the opportunity, at least not without it being really weird. Not only was he never alone, they both left an hour before I did. Bouncers don’t have to hang around for the clean-up, missing out on an hour of burning ice and mopping floors, finding sticky half-full glasses left in the bathrooms, and even stranger things under the booths.

“Oh, lord. I’m so tired I might just curl up right here,” Allie whines with a yawn so big I can see her tonsils, tucking her blond head into her elbow against the window. I wave our server over for the tab, already knowing what each of us owes before I even look. The other girls and I have been coming to this twenty-four-hour diner for a post-shift breakfast at least twice a week for what feels like forever, stumbling out of the diner and into our cars in the wee hours, full of orange juice and butter and carbs. We tip well and in cash, before crossing the gravel parking lot and into our respective vehicles.

After starting the car, I momentarily forget that I’m not driving back to my parents’ house on their quiet, tree-lined street like I did right after Jesse slept with my best friend. The thought cuts me deeper than I expected, not having considered the reality of the situation yet. I won’t be pouring myself into bed as my mom begins her morning routine, starting the coffee pot for her as I pass through the kitchen to my room. Instead, I’ll be coming home to an empty gray box. Even though it’s been six months since the break-up, everyone thinks I need to move on.

I should get a cat. Or a fish. Or a cactus.

Maybe even a Bob Ross Chia Pet would help ease the loneliness I already feel.

Somewhere between the aimless melancholy and the lack of sleep, I must not be paying attention. I don’t see the black Dodge follow me out of the diner parking lot. I’m unaware that it tails me all the way back to the apartment, even after the wrong turn I take when I leave the restaurant as I’m ruminating about my mom and how much I miss her.

After locking up my car, my shoes hit the pavement. I clutch my purse tightly to my stomach as I walk. The courtyard of my new apartment complex feels safe, especially on nights like these. The tall, majestic trees sway gently in the evening breeze, casting playful, yet somehow eerie shadows on the ground. A cobblestone path, worn smooth by countless feet, cuts a clear path to the entrance, lit by soft, warm lights that always make the night seem a little less daunting. But tonight, under the dark, star-studded sky, it feels different, ominous even.

Normally, I’d admire the ivy-clad brick walls and how the soft yellow glow from the apartment windows peeks through the lush green. I’d chuckle at how the ornate fountain, the centerpiece of the courtyard, gurgles like an old man snoring. But as I walk toward my apartment, the usual comfort of home feels distant. The lights seem to flicker uncertainly, the shadows look deeper, and even the fountain’s gurgle takes on a harsh, almost warning tone. And the rustle of the wind through the trees? It’s like a whispered caution. A twig snaps in the distance and I jump. But I shake off the feeling, telling myself I’m just being paranoid. After all, it’s just another night, isn’t it?

I don’t realize that someone has slipped in behind me when I open the outside gate with my key. I don’t notice him at all until he says my name, a clipped syllable that he hurls at me with a sick sweetness.

“El,” Jesse hums from a step behind me. My stomach turns cold as I recognize the voice, and a thousand unwelcome memories slam into me. “Why didn’t you tell me you moved somewhere new? That you’re this close to the job now? Don’t you think that’s something I deserve to know?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me,” I lie through my teeth, wishing I’d picked an apartment building with interior hallways and a secured front entrance instead of this one with exterior stairways leading to a smaller series of units. All I have to do is unlock the door and go inside, but my hands won’t stop trembling as I imagine what he could do to hurt me out here before I could even inhale enough air to scream. I try to breathe slowly, to get my heart rate to settle. It doesn’t work. “I thought it would be too painful to hear from me. And I was sure you’d moved on already. It’s not like you to sit around single for more than a few days.”

I fumble the keys, dropping them, and quickly bend over to pick them up. He doesn’t move. Instead, he looms over me, leaning against the wall next to the door. Everything about his body language feels like a threat. A sliver of fear skates its way up my spine. I want to move away. I want to turn tail and run. I want to cry most of all.

I don’t do any of those things.

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Do you want me to put the key in the door for you, baby girl? You always liked it when I took control.”

I shake my head, pawing at the cold metal and working at the lock again. I know there’s supposed to be a trick with it. The super warned me it tends to stick if I don’t do it right. I try to remember what the man showed me the first time, but fear blocks my brain from firing, and I come up empty.

“You must be so tired after working all night. I remember how much that job drained you.” He seems to inch closer to me every time I look away. I hate how hard I panic when I’m around him. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me, or because I’m afraid he’ll wear me down until I say yes, ripping down every boundary I have with his multitude of red flags. He nods his chin toward my apartment. “Come on. Let me help you with the door. And then we can talk in private. So you’re not airing all your dirty laundry out in the hallway. It’s early. People are probably trying to sleep.”

“No,” I snap, louder than I mean to. He raises an eyebrow at the intensity of my tone. I swallow and attempt to recover with a tight grin. Telling Jesse no always seems to get him even more worked up. “Outside is fine! My stuff isn’t unpacked yet, and it’s an absolute mess, and there’s nowhere to sit, and I don’t even have any coffee, and like you just said, I’m probably pretty tired, and you’re so right, I definitely am—”

Oh. Oh no, oh no.

While my mouth runs away from the rest of me, I’m not paying attention to my hands. I try to force the door, but something goes wrong. There’s a soft snap, and now I’m staring at only the top half of my key as it rests in my palm. The other part is still lodged in the lock. I can’t let him see, or he’ll use the knowledge to take advantage of me. Panicking, I dig in my purse for my phone.

I tug my lower lip between my teeth until it stings. “You know, just now I’m remembering that the property guy texted me some directions for how to get this open. I should still have them on my phone. I feel so stupid for not checking sooner. Let me just look for those real quick.”

“We had fun, you know.” Jesse isn’t listening to me at this point. I’m not sure he ever did. I think he just inserted whatever he wanted to hear over my own dialogue, dubbed in like a foreign movie. I take the time he isn’t paying attention to scroll through my contacts, trying to figure out who I should even call or text. What on earth am I going to say? I can’t call the super this early, and if I call 9-1-1, he’s going to get angry. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I hope you have, too. Those were some of the best times of my life. I know you don’t want to live here all alone. Just come back and stay with me.”

There are only so many lies I can take, and my sleep-deprived brain can’t stop my mouth before it blurts out, “I thought you would’ve shacked up with Sarah by now.”

It is the perfectly wrong thing for me to say. He lunges forward, gripping my wrist so abruptly that my phone clatters to the hallway floor.

“When I fucked your friend Sarah, it was just a little one-time mistake. You want to throw everything away because of one little screwup?” Anger briefly ripples over his features, contorting his smile into a snarl. For a second, he becomes the Jesse only I got to see, before he stuffs it back down behind that slick fake grin he plasters on for everyone else. “We’re so good together, baby girl. The best. It’s not like you’re going to find anybody else, at least anybody worth a damn. Just let me unlock this door and we can talk. I’ve got a six pack in the car I can bring in. God, you’re so damn uptight.”

He loosens his grip on my wrist, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles. But it’s too late. That brief loss of control, letting his mask slip like that, reminds me of all of the times I tried so hard to forget. Slamming doors and breaking dishes. Crying in the shower so he couldn’t hear me and accuse me of ‘overreacting.’ Applying my makeup with a heavy hand so I could hide the bruises from Allie. Sitting in a parked car, being told I needed to suck it up and act normal before we went in somewhere so people didn’t get a glimpse of the man behind the mask. I try to hold in the rush of emotion threatening to bust loose because my weakness only makes him angrier. No matter how fast I blink them away, a small stream of tears still bubbles over my lower lashes and trickles down my face. I reach to wipe them away, but it’s no use.

I suck in a breath and tighten every muscle as I struggle for control while my heart trampolines behind my ribcage.

Fear seeps into every pore, and I wonder how the hell I’m going to get out of this unscathed. I understand pain—and how much Jesse gets off on dishing it out.

With a shiver, I wonder if this will be the last time he hurts me like this.

“Oh, my god,” he growls. Rolling his eyes, he tightens his jaw and lowers his voice. He leans in close enough that I can smell his aftershave and that overpriced beard wax he buys. “Are you fucking crying? Seriously? You act like I’m some kind of monster. You’re such a child. Adults don’t live in fantasyland. Couples fight all the time. Grow the fuck up, El.”

“I’m not—I’m just tired, okay?” I can’t believe I’m arguing the point with him. As if it even matters. As if anything he was saying was ever logical enough to argue.

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