“Lo hice, todo listo,” I reply. “It’s taken care of.”
“Mi niña hermosa,” she repeats, but it doesn’t hold the same touch of sincerity that it did before. It’s almost like she’s saying I played right into her hand… I always do.
She knows I’ll be there to put all the pieces back together. That I’ll be there when she makes a mistake. That I’ll clean up her mess.
And I hate it because I’m allowing her lifestyle to continue. I’m letting the money go to drugs and alcohol because she knows I’ll make sure we’re able to stay in this apartment.
I hate it… I do.
But with so much loss—
I can’t lose her too.
five
Zeke
All I’m saying, man, is that I feel like I haven’t seen you all year,” I begin.
“I saw you at a party last weekend.” Marcus laughs. “You literally crashed at my place that night.”
Aside from the guys I live with and the girls I sleep with, Marcus is one of the only people I hang out with outside of parties. I met him during one of those stupid freshman orientations we had to do to help us meet people in our major.
As I tried to sneak out, which I wouldn’t have had to do if it wasn’t mandatory, I ran into Marcus. He was also trying to sneak out.
That day, we went to a bar, got some drinks with our fakes, and have been friends ever since. I’m not as close to him as with the guys, but it’s nice when we get together. Which isn’t often. Especially once hockey season starts, but when we are together, it’s great.
“What I mean is, I haven’t seen you outside of parties since classes started. It’s nice just drinking at your place, you know? It’s relaxing.”
“Is this where you tell me you have feelings for me?” Marcus pops a single eyebrow. “Because we’ve been over this, you’re not my type.”
“I’m everyone’s type.”
“You’re a little too… rugged for my liking. And you’re a hockey player; I always told you I’d never date a hockey player. Except Jeremy. If Jeremy ever decides to change lanes, please let me know.”
“You’ll be the first person I tell.” I shake my head, chugging the rest of my beer. “You want another one?”
“Sure, man, thanks.”
I head to the fridge, grab two more beers, and then plop back onto the couch.
“How are things going with that Bradley or Bronson or whatever his name was?”
“Braxton,” he replies.
“Oh, right! Because I kept calling him—”
“Braxton hicks… and you were right, he became a real pain. I ended things a couple weeks ago.”
“You guys were making out at that party last weekend.”
“And he wasn’t there when you woke up, right? Progress. We just make out from time to time.”
“That doesn’t sound healthy.”
“And sleeping with any girl who has a pulse, but only once to assure they don’t catch feelings, is healthy?”
“Touche.”