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Valco’s shower head has shit pressure, and the water is lukewarm at best, but it’s enough to get the sweat and other bodily fluids off of me.
I don’t see a clean towel on the shelf, so I take a few moments to stand and drip dry. Before the exhaustion can take over and I fall asleep standing up, I jog out and peek my head into the kitchen.
“One more favor?”
“Red and black drawstring bag under the window in the bedroom. Should be some clean boxers. If your stuff is in the bathroom, I’ll have Vulture throw it in with ours later.”
My phone is dead as shit, so I slip it out of my bag and carry it to the single bedroom in the apartment. There’s a charger sitting in the wall just beside the mattress on the floor, so I sprawl across the covers to plug it in and hop back up to find Valco’s bag.
Considering the places I’ve been the last two days, I have no qualms with second hand underwear.
There’s no heat running, so being practically naked gets to me after a minute, realizing I’ve been staring out the window while my thoughts race around in my head.
If there’s one thing the twins didn’t skimp on, it’s the comforter, because within seconds of wrapping myself in the thick warmth, I’m out.
It’s the annoying, generic Samsung ringtone blaring through my dreamless state that smacks me back to reality. The side of my face is sticky from drool, and the phone almost stops ringing by the time I manage to feel around the unfamiliar space and drag it back under the covers with me.
“Hello?” I croak, then cough to clear my throat.
“You sound like shit.”
The voice cuts through the tired fog in my brain and evaporates it.
“Atty?”
“Loh.” He sounds tired. Like he’s already resigned this conversation to a failure. Like he’s already accepted I’m going to be a failure.
I swallow the hurt and let a deep breath out through my nose.
“What’s going on?”
He’s quiet, but I can hear the thoughtful click of his tongue as he pulls his words together.
“Blair and I finished moving your stuff over to the dorms. You know, because we were the ones who emptied the other one in the first place.”
Accusatory isn’t a word I’d often use to describe Atlas. He’s like a puppy, all soft and gentle. This feels like his gentleness is on edge. Ready to plunge into uncertain territory.
“Thanks.” I’m not sure what else to say. I know I have to be ready to face the music tomorrow. To see Corvin every goddamn morning. To see the looks on my teacher’s faces as I’m sure there’s been gossip going around.
You don’t get to drink yourself into a literal ditch, nearly crack your head open, and overdose all in the same night, resulting in being put on academic probation without word getting out amongst the faculty.
“Corvin says you were supposed to meet up with him the other day. Get all the details of the probation?”
Bile rises in my throat, and I bite my tongue as a distraction. “What’s to know? Keep my grades up, don’t do drugs, let Corvin be my babysitter for the semester. I’ve got it.”
“That’s not…” He sighs. “We’re worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m good. I fucked up, but I won’t anymore. I’ll follow the rules.”
“Where are you?”
I shake my head and belatedly realize he can’t see me. “Crashed with some friends. Needed a break from everyone looking at me like I’m a screw up.”
“We don’t think you’re a screw up, Loh. We love you. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I say, not knowing how much of a weight was sitting on my chest until it falls away. I take in a gasping breath and push out a laugh. “Fuck, I love you, Atty.”
And isn’t that the ultimate problem? I love Atlas Huxley. Heartbreakingly in love with my best friend. The man who maybe could have loved me too, if I’d gotten my head out of my own ass and been willing to see it.
