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Now I get a long weekend’s reprieve from my internship. Yet even that gift, I can’t bring myself to unwrap. I’m just standing at the foot of five flights of stairs, emotionally exhausted, numb, and devoid of my usual cheer.
I never thought I’d let someone like him break me so easily. I tell myself so often that there is good in everyone, and if I’m ever proven wrong, I’ll just keep looking for the good no matter what. I can’t seem to accept that someone can be so cruel.
Even still, I’m searching for a reason Jay is the way he is. I’m searching for his redeeming quality. I’m desperate to know it.
And I can’t even feel noble about that.
I just feel pathetic.
I dodged a text from Alan earlier asking if I’m alright. He only knows I’ve been stressed, but not the specific Jay-shaped reason. I kinda just want to leave him in the dark awhile longer; I don’t want any bit of my frustration with my work to soil the beautiful thing happening between us.
Alan has quickly become the only thing that makes me truly forget all the bad.
Someone shoves into the building behind me. His drunk eyes find mine. “Uh … 501 …?”
I blink. “Up the stairs, fifth floor. That’s—”
He heads on without hearing the rest of my sentence, hurrying up the stairs. I stare after him, frowning. “Hey!” I call at him, unheard. “That’s—”
That’s where I live, I’ve tried to say twice now.
It’s then that I hear the thumping noise of club music coming from upstairs.
What the hell is going on?
When I make it to the fifth floor landing, I find the door to our apartment ajar, and inside, there is an explosion of dance music, flashing lights, chatter and beer-bottle-clinking, and laughter.
I stand there on the landing, staring into my apartment, horrified.
Another presence passes behind me, moving to the door across the hall.
It’s then that I turn and find a guy in a simple grayish hoodie and jeans letting himself into 502. It’s the first time I’ve seen him.
Outside Aubergines, that is. “Zak?”
He gets his door open, then peers over at me.
In a flash, I suddenly realize the last (and quite mortifying) interaction I had with him was spilling alcohol all over his military gear in the middle of his routine. “I’m sorry,” I blurt out.
Zak shrugs, blank-faced. “I’m used to it. Brett’s not himself unless he throws a house party on the weekends. Surprised he hasn’t thrown one sooner. Maybe didn’t want to scare you off so quickly.” He turns to go into his apartment.
I step forward. “I meant about your outfit.”
He stops again, gazing at me. “Outfit?”
“Your military garb. I … I spilled all of those sticky shots all over it. And interrupted your, uh, striptease routine.”
“Oh.” He shrugs again. “It’s not a big deal.”
“I can pay for it to get laundered,” I insist. “I’ll just take a bit out of my paycheck and … and get it dry-cleaned for you. The whole thing, on me.”
Zak stares at me like I just grew a third arm out of my face.
Up-close, he’s strangely approachable. His eyes are soft, crystalline, yet his face has the hardened edge of someone whose shell doesn’t crack easily. I know the impressive physique he has, but the fact that he so casually covers it all up with a plain gray hoodie and jeans gives me the impression he isn’t as showy and cocky as his stage presence suggests. There’s something very private and personal about him, like a mystery hiding in plain sight.
What is that mystery behind Zak’s eyes?
“You’re a sweet kid,” says Zak suddenly.
I smile. “Thanks. I just want to do what’s right and make sure I—”
“What’re you doing here?”
My mouth hangs open from my next unspoken words, cut off. “What?” I ask instead.
“What’s a sweet kid like you doing in a place like Aubergines?” He squints at me. “Why would you willingly subject yourself to that?”
With the noise of Brett’s impromptu house party blasting behind me, I stammer, “I need … I need to pay the rent, obviously.”
Zak takes a step away from his door, putting himself in front of me. He looks me over for five long, thoughtful seconds. Then: “Go back home to Kansas, kid. And I say that with the utmost respect and concern for your wellbeing. You don’t belong in a place like this.”
I stare at him, taken aback by his words.
Also: he said the right state.
With that, Zak turns away and, after thrusting his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, slips into his apartment and gently kicks shut the door.
I frown at that closed door. “I belong here,” I mutter to myself, knowing damned well no one can hear me. “I’ve got what it takes.”
Also, I’m kind of sick of being told that.
Even if a tiny part of me knows Zak’s intention is to protect me. As was Lex’s when he spent my whole first night here schooling me about everyone and everything, including this Zak guy, whom he called an asshole I should avoid. Since that isn’t quite the vibe I got, I will just continue to presume there’s bad blood between them.
