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“I thought we’d go back to your place? My roommate is home.”
“I’m dropping you off, Alexis,” I say, a tad harsher than I intended.
She looks at me, shocked, and then the shock quickly turns to anger.
“You’re a real fucking dick, Knox,” she says before slamming the car door and storming up to her door.
I want nothing more than to go home and pour myself a glass of scotch and forget that this night ever happened.
Thankfully, when I pull up at home the driveway is empty. It’s been a lot of hit or miss with me and my siblings lately. They all have lives and things happening. In a way, I’m thankful, because it’s less time I have to spend listening to them lecture me about shit they know nothing about.
My phone dings with an incoming text, and I smirk when I see that it’s Sophia.
Sophia: I really fucking hate you.
Knox: You wish you did.
After a few minutes with no response, I toss my phone on the kitchen counter and head over to grab a glass and a bottle of liquor. The asshole in me enjoys that she’s still thinking about me hours later.
My mind wanders back to our last couple of encounters. All have consisted of me teasing the fuck out of her until I have her teetering on the edge, just enough to have her come free falling down. This is when I start to wonder if maybe I am fucked-up like my father?
I slam the glass into the sink, harder than I intended, causing it to shatter everywhere.
“Fuck!” I yell, thankful again that I’m alone.
I’m so sick of feeling this way. I’m sick of trying to please everyone and not giving a fuck about myself. When will this shit end?
I’ve just got the glass cleaned up and in the garbage, when I hear the front door open. The way the door slams, I’m sure it’s Kane.
“Everything okay?” I ask him as he stalks past the entryway to the kitchen.
“I’ve just got a lot of shit on my mind,” he says, sighing. “Why does it reek of alcohol in here?” he asks, looking around.
“I broke a glass in the sink.” I shrug.
He stares at me a moment, probably trying to figure out if he should ask me anything else, but ultimately decides against it.
“Rough night?” he asks.
“You could say that.” I walk over to the table, grabbing a seat and sitting down.
I watch him walk over, joining me.
“Same here.”
“Something you need to talk about?” I ask.
“Yes, but not yet,” he admits.
I nod in understanding. “I’m here when you’re ready.”
“I know. Thanks, Knox.”
We sit in silence for a while before he glances down at his phone and then tells me he’s going to bed.
Something is going on with him. I hope he decides he needs to talk sooner rather than later. The last thing I want is for him to hold things in like I do. I don’t want anyone to get to the point that I’m at right now. I feel like I'm going crazy.
I’ve just changed out of my clothes when my phone rings. That’s odd. My dad would never call this late.
