Amelia: Hey, I’ve been thinking. We need to break up. I’m no good for you and vice versa. It’s been fun, but it’s time to move on. Have a good life.
My heart was beating like I’d gone for a run. I snorted in the silent room. I was surprised I even remembered what going for a run felt like. I think my last run could have been the last day of physical education my senior year of high school. I took another swig of my drink and gave myself a mental pep talk. The pep talk looked a lot like the Shia LaBeouf Just Do It video I’d watched about a hundred times.
“I’m making my dreams come true, Shia!” I shouted and hit send in a mad rush of angry motivational energy.
I dropped the phone like it was a snake and jumped to my feet, staring at it. I did it. I finally fucking did it. The elation of breaking free made me feel like I stuck my hand in an electric socket. I shook my booty, imaginary celebratory song in my head, spilling my drink on the beige carpet. I’d clean that up later. Now? It was party time.
There was a knock on the door.
My head swung up and the sudden movement made me dizzy. There wasn’t any more light coming in through the window, so it must be nighttime. Odd time for housekeeping to be coming by. Maybe my music was too loud and the front desk had gotten a complaint?
“Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered, turning the little speaker off and swiping my hair away from my sticky face.
Some people meditated or got some exercise or talked with trusted friends when they were emotionally overwhelmed. I danced and drank. Alone. In my room. By myself. Shut the fuck up. Totally normal and healthy, so take your sniffy advice elsewhere, Judgy Judy.
I wobbled over to the door, needing a hand on the wall to stay upright. How many of those cans had I drunk today? Not so many I didn’t remember safety. I looked through the peephole first, jumping back with a startled gasp when I saw a man at the door.
Titus.
I swung the door open and nearly went down with the violent movement. As it was, I had to push off the wall to get back to upright. Titus frowned. I frowned back.
“What?” I barked by way of greeting.
He looked up and down the hall before zeroing in on my face. “Can I come in?”
I backed up and he came in, his cologne following him like a cloud. I followed my nose and nearly hit the backside of him. He’d stopped, his hands going to his hips as he surveyed my room.
“What?” I asked again, telling myself to quit sniffing him.
“Is all the alcohol because the breakup went bad or good?” He spun around and I had to back up a step to look at him. Dude was tall. And surprisingly good-looking for a guy who sported a mullet. Whoa. Where did that thought come from?
“What?”
A thick blond eyebrow lifted, and if I wasn’t imagining it, one side of his lips tilted into a smile. “How many times can you ask the same question, Amelia?”
I frowned, not following. “What?”
Titus cracked up at that, reaching out to pull me into a hug. “How drunk are you, sweetheart?”
“Mmm,” I muttered, my face plastered against a solid, granite chest. Drunk enough to moan over my best friend’s pecs, I guess. “Very.”
Titus rubbed my back and I curled into him, willing to purr if he’d keep going. Instead, he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back. “What did Daire say when you broke up with him?”
I slumped, not really wanting to talk about it. “Wait. How do you know I broke up with him?”
Titus shrugged and had a seat on my recliner, making himself at home. “Lucy told Bain, who told Rip, who told me. You, Amelia, could have just told me yourself, you know.”
I sagged onto my bed, that guilt from last night barreling back in. “I know. I guess I felt bad about how we’ve been since Daire came along and…” I trailed off, not able to put into words what I was feeling.
Titus leaned forward, putting me out of my misery like the nice guy he’d always been. “I know. So how did he react?”
I tilted my head to the side and figured it was a good sign when the whole room didn’t tilt and lurch. “I don’t know. I haven’t looked at my phone all day.”
Titus sighed, standing up to grab my phone off the floor, almost under my bed, where I’d kicked it during one particularly fun dance move. You never know what you’re capable of on the dance floor until your favorite jam comes on.
He put in my code, which I hadn’t changed in years, and scrolled to my message string from Daire. I looked away and tried to suck in some oxygen. I’d been putting this off all day in favor of White Claw and Drake. Avoidance for the win, baby!
Titus made a choking noise.
“What?” I stood up to look at my phone screen, but he moved out of the way and held the phone above my head.
His face was turning a weird shade of red. Almost had a pretty purple hue to it.
“You okay?” I’d had many years to categorize the many expressions of Titus Jackson and this one wasn’t one I’d ever seen before. “Your nostrils are flaring. Like actually spreading, dude.”
“I’m gonna kill him,” he growled.
I gave him my best mom look, the one I’d seen Lucy give Roxy. “That’s a bit extreme, hon. I’m sure he’s just angry and shocked and lashing out.”
Titus
