“Shit, what time is it?” I glance up at the sky, which is neon pink from the sunset.
“Five-thirty,” Quinton says as he looks at the clock on his phone, scratching at a long, rough scar on his chest.
“Shit.” I unbuckle the tool belt and toss it on the ground. “I’m supposed to be to work in half an hour.”
“Where do you work?” Tristan asks. “At that Vibe place still?”
I nod distractedly as I text Jax. “Yeah… that’d be the place.”
Me: Running late. Will drop off the car ASAP. Things going to be okay?
I feel bad that I have to ask Jax and again, I wish I didn’t rely on him so much. But I don’t know what else to do.
Jax: Yeah, everything’s good here. I’ll hold down the fort.
When I look up from my phone, Tristan keeps nodding as they make plans to go out for the night, but his attention is fastened on me. I’d wonder why, but I don’t have time to get caught up in the wonders of the opposite sex and the inner workings of their minds.
“See you tomorrow.” I wave then dash off, part of me wishing I could stay behind with them, making plans, going out, having fun. But at the same time, I’m glad I have to go, glad I can run away, glad I have a life to run away to.
And that’s what I hold onto thirty minutes later when I start my night by showing up to work late. Thankfully my boss, Benny, likes me and doesn’t get too upset.
“You doing okay, Avery?” He motions for me to come into his office.
I don’t really want to talk to him, but at the same time I did show up late so I step inside. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
“You just seem distracted lately.” He sets a stack of papers aside on his cluttered desk and leans back in the swiveling chair, putting his hands behind his head. “Is it about the dancing thing? Because you don’t have to do that. You just won’t get a raise if you don’t.”
I like Benny and everything, but lately he’s been irking me with this dancing thing. “No, it’s not that. I just... Well, I’ve had a lot of things going on.”
His hands lower to his lap. “It’s not Conner, is it?”
I shake my head. “No… I haven’t heard from him in three months.”
“Good.” He nods then rises from the chair. “If you need anything, you can always come to me.”
“I know.” But I never will. Not with the way he’s looking at me right now—like he wants to rip my clothes off. It’s not that he’s bad on the eyes or anything and in another life, I probably would consider dating him. But I have the no guys rule and unlike Tristan, Benny isn’t tempting enough for me to even consider breaking that rule.
He rounds the desk toward me with a smile. “Are you going to stay late to do the books?”
“Maybe,” I say and when he frowns, I add, “I was actually thinking about doing it tomorrow. Today has been an off day and I really need to catch up on some sleep.”
He grazes his finger down the side of my arm, causing goosebumps to sprout on my skin and not in a good way. “Well, let me know what day and I’ll make sure to stay late with you.”
This isn’t the first time he’s touched me like that and I’m sure it won’t be the last, but I can handle it because I don’t want to have to find another job that fits with my very inflexible schedule.
“All right, I will.” I leave the office then duck into the bathroom to take a quick paper towel bath to try and clean myself up so that my stench doesn’t scare away customers.
As I’m heading out of the bathroom, I look at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is pulled back into a tangled bun, my makeup nonexistent, and my shirt has a stain on it. My messy appearance makes it easier to remind myself that this is my life.
This is your reality.
Nothing else.
Nothing more.
What happened today with Tristan can’t happen again.
And I’m reminded just how much truth my thoughts carry when I go out to the counter and Charissa pulls me aside.
“I’m not sure if I should tell you or not, but I’m going to anyway,” she says with a heavy sigh. “Conner was here… and he was looking for you.”
Chapter 10
This is Reality. This is my Addiction.
Tristan
It had been such a good day, hanging out with Avery, joking, flirting. It’d been a long time since I had a day that uncomplicated. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced something that simple. But then I return to the motel that evening and just like that, the shittiness of the night starts as my phone rings.
Always does.
“Tristan, I need you to come home,” my mother says when I answer my phone. I’m sitting at the table in the motel room with the blinds shut, the entire room dark, dusky, and silent except for the shower running. “Right now. It’s super urgent.”
“I can’t.” It’s my typical response when she says this to me, always the same, stuck on auto repeat. “And besides I was just out there less than a month ago.”
“So? You need to come home again,” she replies anxiously. “Ryder needs you here when we put flowers on her grave and then I wanted to do something else for it... I’m not sure what but I figure that you might have an idea. Like maybe you could make one of those vases you used to do in art class.”
Those vases she’s referring to were actually pipes but I’m not going to tell her that and push her closer to the edge. “I don’t know how to make those anymore.”
“Well, what about a card?” she asks. “I know you love to write.”
“Actually, that was Ryder.” I sigh exhaustedly. “Look, Mom, I have to go.” This is how things have gotten. A vicious cycle. One I’ve been stuck in for years with her. And she seems to be getting worse with each passing day. But instead of getting caught up in the endless circular pattern, I end it. “I have to go. I’m working,” I lie, getting up from the chair and crossing the room toward my bed.
“Tristan, wait,” she hurriedly spits out before I can end the call. “Please don’t do this to your sister.”
“I’m not doing anything to Ryder.” I sink down on my bed, the mattress concaving beneath my weight. “Because she’s gone.”
“Don’t say that,” she whispers in horror. “I can’t believe you would say that.”