009. Rewind... Fast Forward Back To The Present
Rewind.
Four days ago life was a little lame, but it made sense. I was a barista at Double Shot. (Been working there for almost three years... not because I love my job, simply because I know coffee and though I hate my manager, Allen, he's the only one I knnow that would tolerate my terrible customer service) I lived in a two bedroom house with my best friend Ember. (We're only able to afford it because Emb's family is filthy rich)
On Sundays I'd have movie night with Ember and her boyfriend Fed. (Don't ask me what his government name is because not even Emb knows) And I was a little lovesick having been single for a year, but I looked forward to movie night because it was the one night I was able to live vicariously through Emb. Sitting on the floor while they took the couch, every now and then I could sneak a glance just long enough to see him kiss her neck, or feed her popcorn, or caress her bulging belly.
In my spare time I tried to teach myself how to play guitar. I danced around the house in my underwear to oldies when Emb was at work and I was positive that I was alone. I baked cookies (white chocolate macadamia nut so that Emb can dip them in diet soda as it's milk-one of those weird pregnant cravings). I worshiped Andy Warhol and his genius creativity and tried to make uber cool, super edgy pop art using quotes I found and magazine clippings.
I dreamt in black and white, but that was about it in the "bizarre factor" of my life.
I had plans to visit my parents for their 25th Anniversary (but that's not for another month thank God). Already beginning to prep myself for the lies I'm going to tell: "The nursing program at school is great." "Oh yeah, my boyfriend..." "Let's wait until Thanksgiving, see if we're still together by then before you guys meet him." Knowing damn well that I'm too indecisive to know what I really want to do with my life (even though I'm sure nursing is not it) and that I am emotionally incapable of having a long term relationship.
Okay, bizarre factor number two... but that's if you believe that only guys are commitment phobes. (It's just that I'm scared of "the one." I'm scared of finding "the one," I'm scared of not finding "the one," I'm scared of being "the one" to someone who's not "the one" for me, and breaking his little heart)
But fast forward back to the present and life is a big WHAT THE FUCK with a huge question mark attached it.
010. Insert Smug Smiley Face
"I owe a shitload of money. If I don't have it by Friday they'll kill me. I freaked. I thought if I could rob you I could roby anyone, I could rob whoever it takes to at least get enough cash to hold them off for another week. But I'm not a criminal."
You're not?
"I don't lie, I don't cheat, I don't steal, I definitely don't kill."
You don't?
"I don't gamble either, but... Trace... he said I'd be okay."
He did?
"He's my best friend."
He is?
"Was my best friend."
Oh.
He sighs, walks past me and takes a seat on the porch. "Story of my fucking life."
I take this as my cue to say something. "Can I have my I.D. back?"
"What?"
Okay... this is my cue to say something else. "If you're here to kill me can we just get it over with already?"
He frowns, takes a look to his left, a look to his right, looks straight at me. "What?"
[Insert major crippling confusion]
Am I missing the point? Why the fuck did he just spill his guts to me? Why can't I have my I.D. back? It's not like I asked for the wallet or my money. Why does he think it's so bizarre that I'm willing and ready to die? If anyone should be astonished by that fact it should be me and at the moment I'm kind of not.
Do I dare say something else? "..." No, too speechless for that.
He scoffs. "I'm sorry, I'm just... shocked."
You're shocked?
"I mean, I never really had any intention of hurting you... I just panicked, I'm just panicked." He smiles. "I wish I could be like you, though, just fucking ready to die and shit. That's badass."
Really?
Thanks.
[Insert smug smiley face]
011. WWJD?
I have my I.D. back, my wallet, and even the forty dollars that was inside my wallet. I have a complete stranger sleeping on my couch. I have serious mental issues. When Emb wakes up, I have a lot of explaining to do.
But what was I supposed to do? What would Jesus do?
He can't go back home because they've begun to stake out in front of his apartment, and without home he has nowhere else to go. They'll never find him here. So why not?
Oh, I don't know, maybe because he robbed you at gunpoint?!
Well, not technically, he gave me my stuff back.
And what about the gun...?
He could've shot me. But he didn't.
And suddenly that makes this whole situation okay?
No, of course not.
Of course not!
But...
There's a ‘but'...?
He looks so tormented, even in his sleep, when he sat looking up at me from his seat on the porch he looked so lost, so utterly lost, a hopeless wreck. I had to save him. I have to save him.
012. "Hi. Justin."
Scream. "Moi!" Bare feet running across the wooden floor closer and closer to my door, the knob slamming into the knob stopper. Disheveled hair, bewildered eyes, loud pants, her hands on her belly.
I sit up slowly.
"Please tell me you know who that is on our couch."
And so the explaining begins. But surely I can't tell her the truth. She'd die. She'd stress herself out so bad she'd miscarry. She'd kill me. She'd kill him. The whole point of everything was to keep Justin from dying.
"Relax," I groan, sleepy and too overwhelmed to properly figure out how to handle this.
"But," she lowers her voice to a whisper, her fear turns to curiosity, "he looks like that guy from the coffee shop," she looks over her shoulder, "the really hot one. Did you two..."
Fuck? Sure, if that's what you'll believe.
I lay back down and pull the covers over my head. "I'm going back to sleep now."
"But then why aren't you two sleeping together?"
"It's this quirk I have, I prefer to sleep alone." I'm back up with the quickness. Justin is standing behind Emb scratching the back of his head and yawning.
"..." I'm speechless again.
Because I've never seen someone wake up looking that good? Because I can't believe I'm even checking him out right now? Because it's totally insane that he's in my house? Because four days ago he was just a criminal and now today-yesterday-he is a victim? But Emb thinks he's my one night stand? Because "complicated" is an understatement? I can't even begin to find the words to clarify or justify this mess.
"Hi. Justin." They shake hands.
And the only thing that makes this easier is that when I told her about the guy who held me at gunpoint I was too shaken up to mention that he was the same guy, the "hottie" who gave me a cigarette.
013. ...?
How are you desperately attracted to someone, then so unbelievably afraid of someone? So irate with someone because of how easy it is to surrender your control to that someone? So haunted by someone; so compelled to help someone?
Author's Chapter Notes:
thanks again so much for all the reviews! thanks for reading =)
Story Tags: Be the first to add a tag to this story
