My smile widened. The idea of a simple, carefree bike ride felt like a perfect break from reality. "I'd like that," I replied, the words feeling lighter than air.
We finished up our meal and stood up. Alex, being the gentleman that he was, offered to pay.
“So, I have to ask, was this a date?” My voice held a playful rhythm as I asked the question.
He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Was it? I'm leaving that up to your interpretation."
A playful chase ensued as we exited the café, the afternoon sun warming our faces.
The drive back home was peaceful, a gentle breeze caressing my face as I drove with the window down, embracing the brief moments of tranquility.
As the day wore on, a sense of calm settled in, and I found myself slowly re-acclimating to the familiar normalcy of my life. Doing chores around the house, writing, more chores, pathetic attempts at self-care.
Instead of reading the journal of death and darkness, I chose to escape into a romance book.
Daylight faded into dusk, and a hush fell over the landscape as the hours passed. I contemplated going to bed early, despite it only being eight o’clock.
The silence was shattered by a sudden, violent pounding on the front door, nearly making me leap out of my skin.
I checked my phone. Nobody had alerted me of coming over, so paranoia swept through my thoughts as I crept towards the door.
Peeking through the hole, I was startled to see Caiden on the doorstep.
Fuck.
I opened the door and stood in front of him, crossing my arms. “What in the hell are you doing?”
I opened the door, and the heavy scent of alcohol, a heady blend of bourbon and something sickly sweet, immediately filled my nostrils. He stood there, a subtle sway to his posture, his dark eyes boring into me, and a radiating tension filled the air.
“I wanted to see you,” he grumbled.
I raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t call or text first?”
“No. I couldn’t sit in that basement any longer. But, I didn’t want to sit with Sabrina and Shane being drunk and miserable, so I made the decision to drive here.”
Caiden swayed as he spoke, desperation laced his words.
"You drove here drunk?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
"Look, I know I shouldn't have, but I needed to talk to you.”
Caiden stumbled slightly, catching himself on the door frame. The sickly-sweet smell intensified.
My apprehension morphed into something else, a prickle of worry mixed with the familiar pull of concern I always seemed to feel around him. "Come in," I sighed, already regretting the words.
He grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dim light, and stepped inside, nearly knocking over a small table in his unsteady progress.
He shrugged off his jacket, a rumpled leather thing, and tossed it onto the sofa. "Thanks," he mumbled, his voice was thick with the alcohol.
I watched him, a knot tightening in my stomach.
He collapsed onto the couch with a groan, his head lolling against the cushions. I fetched a glass of water, the ice clinking against the cup.
Hesitantly, I sat beside him, the leather of the couch cool against my skin. His hair was disheveled, stray strands falling across his forehead. He looked vulnerable, almost childlike in his drunken state, and the anger I’d felt earlier began to dissipate.
He really was a mess.
A part of me, though, felt scared. Whenever I would be around him in the past during his drunk episodes, he would act like a vicious beast.
