62
I pull my hair up into a knot on the top of my head with my favourite green scrunchie and begin the tedious task of cleaning my face.
Sam busies himself in the living room, setting up a bed on the couch.
He’s been staying here since Brooks showed up almost a week ago.
I’m not sure if he’s sticking around for me or if he’s hiding from Brooks and the rest of their little gang.
I don’t mind. I like the company. I’m splashing warm water on my face just as there’s a pounding at the door.
I peek out of the bathroom and look over towards Sam.
“Expecting anyone?”
“Let me,” he says protectively, standing up from the couch.
He’s so tall that it only takes him a few strides to make it to the door.
I pull the scrunchie from my head, letting my hair fall back down around my shoulders, then hover behind him, waiting to see who it is.
Although I think I already have a pretty good idea.
“You’re here again. Are you two finally shacking up together?” Brooks’ angry voice booms through the apartment.
“She’s not here,” Sam says bluntly, arms crossed against his broad chest, his muscles flexing underneath his tight t-shirt.
“She wasn’t at work. She always works on Thursday nights.
Where is she?” Brooks demands impatiently.
What did he expect would happen, showing up after all this time?
That she would be waiting, begging to climb back into his bed?
His eyes are heavy and glazed over, his skin a little flushed. He’s been drinking.
“You went to her work?” I ask, peeking out from behind Sam. “A little stalker-ish, don’t you think?”
“She’s not returning my calls.” He rolls his eyes, fisting his hands at his sides.
“Now you know how it feels, asshole,” I snap back.
Brooks steps into the light, revealing dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in months. Sam adjusts his stance, making himself look a lot bigger than Brooks, not that he has to try hard.
“And what? She’s punishing me?”
“Abi will talk to you when she’s ready,” Sam says plainly.
“Don’t you fucking say her name to me.” Brooks moves to take a step forward, but Sam beats him to it, completely blocking his access to the apartment.
“Leave now, or I’ll call the police. Go cool down. Sober up. You don’t want to see her when you’re like this anyway.” Sam takes a step back inside the apartment and puts his hand on the door.
“I just want to talk to her,” Brooks says weakly, the malice in his tone replaced by desperation.
“Brooks,” Sam says, sympathy oozing from his tone. “She’ll talk to you when she’s ready.”
“Luna, can you just tell me, is she ok?” Brooks asks, looking past Sam.
“I promise, she’s fine.” I’d feel bad for him if he hadn’t been such a wanker. Brooks nods sadly, turns around and walks slowly to his apartment.
“How many times has he tried to call her this week?” Sam asks, closing the door and locking it.
“Last count was fifty missed calls in the last four days. The dude’s getting desperate.
I even saw him skulking around campus the other day.
Luckily for Abi, he never bothered visiting her at school when they were together, so he had no clue where she was.
” I head back towards the bathroom to finish my night time routine.
“Four days is nothing. He was gone for almost two months without a word,” Sam mutters to himself as he turns the TV off and continues making his bed up on the couch. I hate seeing him trying to get comfortable every night. At least one limb is always overhanging the edge.
“You can sleep in Abi’s room if you want.”
“That wouldn’t be creepy?”
“Only if you go through her underwear drawer,” I say with a laugh, stepping into the bathroom. “But seriously–don’t go through her shit, and I think you can safely avoid being a creep.”
My phone buzzes on the edge of the sink, startling me.
Panic courses through my body, and sweat begins to pool on my lower back.
I haven’t heard from him since moving here, and now, out of nowhere, he wants lunch?
Has he found out about me starting to draw again?
But, how? I’ve been so careful. I wouldn’t even let Jim tag me in an Instagram post of my designs.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asks, entering the bathroom with his toothbrush in hand. His face softens with concern as he looks down at my hands. Droplets of blood have begun to form where I have been picking at the skin around my nails. I hadn’t even realised I’d been doing it.