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Again, I ignore it.
The person on the other side of the door breaks out into a drum solo.
Sighing, I rub my temples. Whoever it is, they’re not going to go away until they get what they want.
“Who is it?”
“Housekeeping,” a male says in a pitchy tone. It’s a poor interpretation of a woman’s voice.
Chase may be a prankster, but his deep timbre never could reach that octave. I get up from the couch, skulking to the door, annoyed with whoever it is on the other side. I’m not in the mood for socializing, haven’t been since Chase inadvertently spilled the beans to everyone in headquarters about our hook-up.
Jo is still honeymooning in Spain with Atlas, but I could use some sisterly advice. There’s no way I’ll put a damper on her happy time by describing my pathetic love life. But if she were to call, I’d definitely spill my guts.
I peek through the peephole, seeing only blackness. A hand is over the lens. Whoever it is, they’re immature as hell. Which means it can only be one person.
Grinding my teeth, I open my door. “What do you want, Moron?”
“Oh, look! She lives.” Punk pushes his way into my suite, acting like he has all the right to do so.
“Get out!” I try to stop him from making himself at home, but Punk does what Punk wants. He plants his ass on my couch right where I’d been working.
He scans the room, shaking his head. “Jesus, Priss. Could this room be any more depressing?”
Aggravated, I fold my arms over my chest. “What are you rambling about?”
He waves his hands at the entire space. “This. You’d think a squatter was living here.”
Punk gets up, crossing into the bedroom. He throws open the curtains. Sunlight pours into the room. My hand flies up to cover my face as I hiss in the bright afternoon light.
Punk’s hand flies to his chest dramatically. “Christ, woman! How long have you been hibernating?”
My eyes swivel around the room, assessing the mess I’ve accumulated in the past few days. Records, receipts, and finance reports litter the sitting area, along with old dishes, tossed aside clothes, and empty candy wrappers.
Admittedly, it looks bad. “I’ve been busy.”
Punk gives me a pointed look. “You’ve been hiding.”
Chafes my ass he’s calling me out on my bullshit. It’s not like me to lose sleep and give up on personal hygiene over a guy. I wasn’t even this bad when I caught Trent cheating. But Chase…avoiding him has made me spiral into a deeper depression.
“I’m not talking about this with you.” Embarrassed he’s witnessing my life crumbling around me, I bend to pick up my trash, like I’m trying to hide the evidence.
“Fine by me. I prefer when you don’t talk. Makes it easier to get a word in.”
I roll my eyes. “You never shut up, do you?”
“Hey, I’m only up in your business because I’m doing a favor for my boy, as well as our sis, too. Jo would be upset if she saw you like this.”
Alarmed, I spin around with my arms full of garbage, wrappers spilling from my grasp from the sudden movement. “Not a word of this to Jo. She doesn’t need to worry while she’s away.” I would tell him not to mention this to Chase either. However, I’m sure Chase has a pretty good idea of my depressive state, no doubt watching me through the monitors in his tech room when I leave the safety of my room.
Jo and I have only recently gotten on good terms again. We went a solid year with no contact because of my closed-minded comments about her being irresponsible for leaving her last job without notice, unable to understand how she could be so reckless. But I know now, since I went through the same shit with Trent she did with her ex, Jacob. Live and learn. I refuse to rock the boat while she’s on her honeymoon.
Punk raises his hands. “I won’t say shit to Jo, but only if you pull yourself together. I get you wanting to avoid Chase—you’re not ready for commitment, yadda-yadda. I understand better than most. Believe it or not, I’ve been cheated on. I know how much that shit hurts. You’re in mourning.”
Baffled he’d reveal something so personal, I do a double-take.
“Look, it’s not my place to say how you should live your life, but grieving that fucker,” Punk shakes his Bic’d head, “is not worth it. I’m not telling you to jump into a relationship with my best friend. Honestly, it would be easier for me if you didn’t, since you and I get along oh, so well. But if you have a shot at loving someone else, then go for it. Doesn’t need to be right now. Maybe in another month or six. You owe it to yourself to find happiness. And Chase is a great guy—the best guy.”
My chin wobbles, and I clench my jaw to stop it. I swear to God, if I break down in front of Punk, I’ll kick my own ass for not holding my shit together.
