Page 4 of Until Him

Asshole’s always doing that.

“I just saw him last month.”

Finn nudges me, and I huff. My brother, Landon, and I used to be close. We talked almost every day before the accident, but the immense guilt has kept me from reaching out. Seeing him reminds me ofthat dayand it’s suffocating.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call him. I will. I promise.”

“He doesn’t blame you.”

I rub my chest again and then nod.

“Yeah, alright,” I say, shutting the conversation down. I can’t think about it too hard, or I get really sad.

“Okay, I’ll let it go, but you have to keep me in the loop with this tutoring thing. Let me know how it goes,” Finn says, slapping me roughly on the back of the head.

Shit, that hurts. Why does he have to be so rough with me? He isn’t like this with my brother. I know that for a fact. We’ve all been best friends for ages and he’s always been super gentle and thoughtful when it comes to Landon. He even brings Landon donuts, for fuck’s sake. But do I get food? No, I get noogies and “playful” punches to the gut.

“Yeah, asshole, keep dreaming,” I mutter.

No way I’m telling him shit.

I’ll take what happens between me and Theo to the grave.

* * *

I show up at Theo’s apartment five minutes early and debate waiting outside until the clock strikes six, but decide against it.

I just want to get this over with. I’m nervous as fuck, and in the past few hours, I’ve managed to really work myself up over this. My heart is pounding and my hands are clammy.

My knuckles rap on the door, and I experience a sense of déjà vu when it opens and I see Theo standing before me.

“You’re early. When I said six, I meantsix,” he grumbles, the pencil hanging between his pink lips. He’s wearing a pair of ragged grey jogger sweats, and once again, he’s not wearing a shirt. What is his deal? Where are this guy’s clothes? Maybe he’s perpetually doing laundry.

His tattoo is on display, but the writing is small and in fancy cursive, so no matter how long I stare at it, I can’t quite read what it says.

“Yeah, well, here I am. I didn’t want to be late,” I mutter.

He stares at me for a moment, and I half-expect him to make me wait in the hallway for another four minutes, but then he swings the door open further.

“Fine. Come in. We can get started.”

I step inside his small studio apartment and take a look around. It’s sparsely decorated with a murphy bed pulled out from the wall, a wooden desk and chair set shoved in the far corner, and a TV perched on a dresser. Directly to my right is a small kitchen with a microwave on the counter, and to my left is a closed door that I can only assume is a bathroom.

From the corner of my eye, I see a fluffy grey and white cat make its way out from underneath the bed.

“You have a cat,” I say, smiling. For some reason, it makes him seem a little more relatable and less callous. I mean, you have to have some compassion to own a pet, right?

Theo eyes me like I’m an idiot for mentioning it. Whatever, I’m just trying to make small talk. I’ve got a serious case of nerves.

“What’s its name?” I ask, holding my hand out and making little kissing noises toward it. The cat just stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.

Yeah, I kind of have, but what am I supposed to do, huh?

Don’t judge me, cat.

“Why the fuck do you care?” Theo asks sharply.

“Just want to know, is all.”

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