“Ashley,” Mac informs me. I look around the apartment frantically. I didn’t clean a thing. And now that I’m not drunk off my ass, I realize it really is a pigsty.
“Sorry. Shit.” I get up and start picking up the empty beer bottles as he opens the door. It’s a painful reminder of where I came from and makes me mad. Like, almost violent. I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself. There’s still an eruption of emotion overflowing inside me. I’m depressed and hurting, anxious and bitter, but I think my little outburst alleviated some of the pressure. Maybe a hot shower and a good night’s sleep will do me some good. Right after I get this place in order.
Sheesh.
I spy Ashley and Mac interacting as I clean. They’re cozy with each other. He puts his arm around her and whispers something into her ear. She giggles. She fits perfectly against him. I’ve never seen him be so affectionate toward a woman before. Not like the way he is with her. It’s warm, caring, and sensitive. And I know he has it bad. He’s fucked.Have fun going down that road, my friend. Hope she doesn’t break your heart. I’ll be here to pick up the pieces if she does.
I take out the trash — stuffed mostly with empty beer bottles — fold the blankets on the couch, scrub the counter, and wash the floor. By the time I’m done, it’s nearly two a.m. Mac and Ashley have gone to bed, and I’m alone with my thoughts.
I take a shower as quietly as I can, but I know any sound I make won’t interrupt what’s going on behind Mac’s door. I feel a little pang of jealousy. Not because he’s having sex, but because he’s found the one thing I lost. The one thing I’m too afraid to get back. To reclaim.
I collapse on the couch and pick up the little shiny blue shorts off the floor. I inspect them. They’re stretchy and sort of soft.
What the fuck am I getting myself into?