Chapter Three #2
My breath caught. “I-I can’t accept that. You’ve already done so much. I’ll just ask Liam for a ride home. We get off at the same time.”
Scrutiny filled her gaze, and a part of me hoped she’d argue, hoped she’d take me into her arms and whisk me away….
“I can accept that,” Alex said. “And, again, if Cliff contacts you, let me know right away.”
I managed a shaky, “Okay.” But when she walked away, I found some of my bearings, enough to say, “Thank you.”
She turned around. For a moment, I wasn’t a latte-covered barista, instead transformed by the intensity of her gaze, worshipped by those beautiful siren eyes. “Always, Princess.”
That made her my knight in shining armor, didn’t it? I watched her go, imprisoned by my own sudden yearning. She grabbed her coffee—so mundane an act—swapped words with Barbs—what I would’ve given to hear them—and left, the chime of the bell breaking the spell.
I was a sad barista once more, trapped in a tower of my own trauma.
I was self-aware enough for that.
“Dude, what did I tell you about Cliff?”
In his car, Liam, rightfully, berated me all the way home.
“It’s unfathomable. I can’t conceive of that level of brazen assholery. I can’t even call him an incel. That’s some ASPD shit, I’m telling you.”
I pretended not to notice how poorly he was watching the road. “Your inner psych major is showing.”
“There is nothing ‘inner’ about my psych major, Terra. Whereas he’s one sprained ankle away from no future, he’s got no prospects after college, no personality except ‘psychopath’—”
“No inheritance and no land, either,” I muttered.
“Make fun of my ranting all you want. You’re the one who fucked a man who thinks it’s gay to wash his ass.
” He shook his head, the struggle between paying attention to the road and staring me down clearly a battle for him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t jump in. I didn’t even realize anything was happening until Barbs vaulted over the counter. ”
I smiled at the visual. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Thank God for her. And thank God for Alex, sounds like. I saw her drag you away.” His impish smile caused me to blush. “Not so bad for a fuckboy.”
My sigh left me slumped against the window. Resignation filled my voice. “She was pretty damn heroic.”
Better than admitting I’d thought about her touch on my chin the entire rest of my shift.
“I’m just saying, she’s a lot better than Cliff.”
I scoffed, lest I admit too much.
Liam scowled as he braked at a stop sign. “You do like girls, right? I swear you mentioned a past girlfriend once or twice, but if I’m just making shit up, I’ll stop.”
“I like girls.”
“I wish you’d be more of a basic bi, then. Don’t bi girls love golden retriever boys? Not fuckboys? Us bi boys certainly do—my husband is adorable.”
My throat suddenly tightened. A debilitating truth rose despite it. I whispered, lest the universe hear it. “I don’t think I like boys at all, Liam.”
He frowned. I shied beneath his judgement. “Then what the fuck are you doing, Terra?”
Thankfully, he pulled into my apartment complex, saving me from dissecting that god-awful question. What the fuck was I doing, indeed.
“It’s complicated,” I said instead. “I don’t know. Thanks for the ride, Liam.”
He helped get my bike out of the bed of his truck. “As your friend and dating adviser, I recommend giving Alex a call. Bet she’d like that.”
“Bye, Liam.” I left him as I rolled my bike to the rack.
I came home to an empty apartment. Mom would be working a double, which meant I was home alone until midnight.
Alone. A vicious word. Alone was when the nightmares hit. Without Liam’s teasing, I felt today’s grime on my skin like a film, compressing me, suffocating me.
In theory, Cliff didn’t know where I lived, but if he knew where I worked, surely he could find my apartment.
I checked my phone. Three unread messages from Cliff.
Bitch. You humiliated me.
Don’t reply. Don’t panic. Tell Alex.
Of course, that’s when I realized Alex had neglected to actually give me her number.
This you?
That one came with a picture of me, but not the selfie I’d sent. This was…something else.
My eyes were shut; I most certainly hadn’t known he’d taken a photo; I didn’t even remember this; hell, was I asleep? The act was unmentionable. Degrading. I hated him, I hated him, I fucking hated him—
I’m sending it to everyone in my contacts unless you reply.
That was the third message.
I dropped the phone like the cursed object it was.
The aura of filth coating me itched. I couldn’t wear this damn uniform. I had to shower.
In the bathroom, I ripped it all off, my skin itching more and more with each passing second.
Naked, I felt no better—worse, even—and the mirror revealed a truly pitiful sight.
I’d cleaned myself up in the work bathroom as well as I could, but make-up had caked underneath my eyes, and the smell of stale coffee coated me like a film, even sticky here and there in my blonde hair.
Beneath that, I was simply me. A parking garage for creeps like Cliff.
I hated it. I hated him. I hated…me.
In the shower, I scrubbed away the smell, the ruined makeup, but still I felt the grime, inside and out.
Behind my eyelids, I saw Cliff touching me last night, felt it even as my skin stung from scrubbing.
My body ached, but that was nothing new.
Everything hurt, and more hands touched me in the dark, brutal hands that pressed me against wet concrete, telling me to be quiet so they could hurry, promising I could call the cops once they were done, passing me around like a doll as warm blood streamed toward me, staining my hair, my dress, the echo of gunfire louder than the screaming.
Her screaming? No. Just mine.
I blinked, realizing I was curled up at the bottom of the tub, the molten spray of water painful enough to ward off the memory. My own cry faded from the walls. My elbow throbbed. I must’ve bruised it when I’d fallen. When had I fallen?
I shut off the water, too empty to cry anymore.
Distraction. I needed a distraction.
I changed into my most modest pajamas and went to the couch, but before the Netflix logo even chimed, I…
Blinked. And all was dark.
I groaned as I flailed around for my phone, realizing there was a blanket draped over me. When I rose, the oven clock in the kitchen said 3:34.
Apparently, I’d slept for thirteen hours. There were worse crimes.
As I stumbled around in the dark, searching for my phone, the TV’s light illuminated a note on the table next to a cold cup of tea: Don’t work too hard. Love you, Terra.
Who gave a shit that it was cold? I took a sip of the tea and felt a bit of Momma’s love.
Mom did her best, but she’d pulled more double shifts than not since Dad had left.
Finally, I found my phone on the bathroom counter. Three unread messages.
One from Mom. Looks like there’ll be a storm tomorrow. Be sure to pack a jacket ??
And two from Cliff.
Hey, maybe I went too far…. You kinda drive me crazy. But maybe I need some crazy in my life.
And a second, twenty minutes later: Call me.
All that filth I’d scrubbed away crawled back up like ants on my skin.
I wasn’t going to be sleeping, but I was suddenly hot—much too hot—and so I staggered toward the sliding door leading to the porch.
The cool night air was a rare mercy in the desert. Despite the city lights, I spotted a few stars in the sky.
What the hell was I doing with my life?
Depressed, college dropout, somehow managing to hold down a job at a high-end coffee shop…. But I didn’t want to be a barista. Not forever.
I searched for constellations despite the light pollution, and for a brief moment, I felt hands on me, but they were kind. They held me tight. I heard her voice—
“You really know your constellations.”
“Dad taught me a few before he left. He always called me his pupil.”
“Like from that poem you love?”
“That one, yeah. Look, see there’s Ursa Major….”
El hadn’t cared for the stars like I did. Instead, the stars had reflected in her eyes whenever we kissed, whenever I caught her watching me from afar, when she’d told me she loved me for the very first time….
“There’s not much use in an astronomy degree. No money in it.”
“You don’t need money. I’ll get that engineering degree and take care of you. I just want you to be happy.”
We’d never talked about marriage in explicit terms. But I’d sworn I’d spotted a ring in her dresser before we…she….
She was gone. It didn’t matter. Her family had cleared out her dorm before I’d even left the hospital, buried her, and erased me from their memories.
I looked up, managing to spot a tail among the clouds. “There’s Ursa Major, El.”
Perhaps somewhere, somehow, she heard.