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“Are you fucking kidding me?! How can anyone be so fucking stupid? Some people have their heads so far up their asses that they can’t even obey simple instructions, so they make the people who do use their ears look like fucking Einstein!"
I look to my left, focusing on the way the amateur next to me is tilting back in his chair while he plays on his phone. This can’t be happening. I’m livid and tapping my foot furiously on the worn wooden floor. The flooring is made of old oak, too old for tongue and groove planks, but younger than the wide planks seen in the 1800’s.
"Mhmm," the other guy hums.
Throwing my hands up in exasperation, I grunt before interlacing my fingers and hugging them to the hairline at the back of my head.
"You're not even listening to me. You just proved my entire fucking point! You two should’ve worked together! You and Ødger would’ve been two rotten peas in a fucking pod! You’re both fucking idiots!" Slamming my hands down on the desk, I stand up aggressively. The backs of my knees knock the chair out from under me, making it clatter to the ground. "Fuck it! I'm going out for a smoke!"
Aggressively opening the metal door, I travel down the two flights of creaky wooden stairs that lead to the deserted parking lot. The structure I just left is a dusty brick building from the 1930s, maybe earlier. It’s a faded maroon color, and I swear it crumbles every time I focus on it long enough.
I kick at nothing before pulling out the pack of cigarettes from my breast pocket. Sighing and lighting up the end of a smoke, I inhale a long, deep drag. I can already feel myself relaxing.
Instead of giving me a little time to cool down, my bubble of peace and quiet bursts.
"I'm sorry, bro. I wasn't trying to ignore your rant. I was just playing this stupid game and like…yeah." My apprentice's voice trails off.
"No shit, dumbass. If you weren't trapped in that little screen with your little brain, then you would have heard me. I swear, the more you open your mouth, the more brain cells I lose. Do you even know what brain cells are?" I look at him pointedly while ashing my cigarette onto his toes, which are exposed due to his flip-flops. "You know what, don't answer that. That was a rhetorical question. If you even know what rhetorical means."
Before I can continue to chew his ass out, my phone starts vibrating in my jeans. Reaching into my pocket, I grab it and firmly tap the green button, walking away from the dumbass and his lack of common sense.
"You know I don't like being ignored, Loki," the voice on the other end of my phone snaps. “She just arrived.”
"Yeah, I got your message."
"Good. You have work to do. Meet me at the diner in two hours." Without waiting for a reply, the phone call disconnects.
I’m starving, but diner food won’t do much to fix my hunger.
"Marcus!" I raise my voice just enough to make him jump, pleasuring me. "Go back upstairs. Put your fucking phone down and focus on what you're supposed to be doing. I'm leaving. Oh, and don't be a pyromaniac while I’m gone."
Taking one more drag, I toss the cigarette down towards his feet. He stomps it out, assuring me that he’s actually listened to me about burning shit. I put the phone back into my pocket and grab my belongings.
Fucking people! I don’t have time for their shit.
Cold Mornings
Early February in Florida is tempermental; one day could be 75 degrees, and the next, we could have falling iguana warnings. A cold front has recently moved down from Canada, so Aimee and I are curled up on her couch in her tiny, fixed-lease apartment. We have wrapped ourselves in giant quilt comforters and are watching rom-coms.
After everything I’ve been through, she’s stuck by my side. Just about every moment, day in and day out. It’s almost as if I never left. It’s slightly irritating, especially when she asks me if I’m alright every five minutes. No, I’m not, but I will figure it out eventually. Hopefully.
I stayed in the hospital for a while, but now I’m just trying to figure out how to get accustomed to my 'normal' life again. Whatever normal is. I’m also trying to figure out how to actually talk to the man I’ve fallen head over heels for.
Tyr.
He rescued me. Not just physically but also mentally. Tyr is everything I could have asked for in a place like that. He kept me safe to the best of his abilities and was more than kind to me.
Aimee and I have just finished our third movie of the night on her large-screen TV when she opens her mouth to ask the dreaded question that I assumed was coming.
"Alright, Nova. Spill. You and Tyr were inseparable at the hospital, and now you’re here, lying around like a bum. Shouldn't you be with him, smackin’ lips or getting railed on the counter or some shit?" Aimee turns her entire body towards me, tossing pieces of buttered popcorn into her mouth from the bowl between us. Her shorts twist uncomfortably on her legs, and she stares at me with curious hazel eyes as she fixes them.
"I don't even know, Aims. I think we were still in shock with what we’d just escaped, and then he just asked me to move in with him. But things don't just fall into place that easily. That creep did some fucked up things to us, and it's not like we can just move on with our lives that fast." I don’t look at her. I can tell she’s aware that it’s a piss-poor excuse.
"Really, bitch? The man is head over heels for you. You say he’s always asking for you, all day and all night. He took care of you while you were there, he took your damn virginity, and he even bought a home for the two of you. What more do you want from the poor guy? A fucking ring?"
"Hell no," I reply, shaking my head back and forth. That's the last thing that I want to think about. "I'm going to his place tomorrow. And we've gone out since then, by the way. I just haven't said anything yet ‘cause I know everyone is rooting for us. I just…I guess I'm nervous?"
"Back up. You two went on a date, like a real date, and you didn't tell me about it?! What the fuck, Nova! Spill! Give me all the tea…and don’t leave anything out!" It happened one night after she left my parents' house to do some shopping.
