There’s always a lesson she wants me to learn without getting straight to the point. She’s too calculated and way too much in control. It fucking pisses me off.
The wordmanipulativefloats through my head.
She’s good at what she does, but being good doesn’t mean being right. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean I trust her.
I stub out the cigarette against the wall and look out at the waves.
Dark water. Waves rolling in and pulling away. Over and over.
It hits me. I don’t like Erin.
And the more I listen to her, the more sure I am.
“I don’t know what game you’re all playing, but I’m done.”
A new cigarette finds its way to her lips.
“Maybe you should figure out what you actually want.”
She sounds like a detached robot, but still with a blade knifing you on repeat.
“Do you even know what that is, Tom?”
This starts to get under my skin. She doesn’t know me, and she sure as hell doesn’t get to talk like that. Calling my name after almost every fucking stupid sentence. The audacity. She thinks she’s fucking Jay, or what?
“I’ll figure it out for myself,” I say, turning away from her.
Yeah, I’ve got my issues, I’m a walking mess. Fine. But it’s mine to fix.
And that starts with going back to the one person here who actually deserves an apology.
The pebble path crunches beneath my checkered Vans as I approach the door of his studio for the second time tonight.
I hesitate for a second, my fist hovering above the door handle.
A gentle knock will do the trick. The last thing I want is to wake him up.
There's a soft glow coming from his practice, so maybe he's up reading crystal stuff to distract himself.
“Yosh? You still awake?”
As I take in my surroundings, I catch the night guard and the girl from the pool bar staring.
He leans in, hand cupped near her ear. She nods without looking away, all while watching me knock on Yosh’s door half an hour before midnight.
Maybe it’s because of the scene I caused with Terrence at dinner, or the way I slammed this same door 30 minutes ago. Or maybe it's simply because I’m Tom McKenna, knocking at the door of West Cove’s hottest guy at a questionable hour.
Fuck me, it’s probably all of that considering they're still gossiping.
The door stays closed.
Politeness can go to hell. If Yosh is mad, fine. I’ll take it. I deserve it. But I need to look him in the eye and tell him how sorry I am.
I knock harder this time, my hand resting on the handle. That’s when I notice the door isn’t locked.
Strange. Yosh always locks the door, day or night.
I step inside, expecting to find him at his desk or maybe curled up in bed with a book. But the room feels empty in a way that makes my skin crawl.
