"So what happened last night?" Jase asks when I walk into the kitchen.
Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I walk into the living room, which is adjacent to the open kitchen, and curl up in a blanket as I sit on the couch. Jase walks in and sits next to me, propping his feet up on the coffee table.
"Kimber brought some guy home last night, and the pervert wouldn't stop shouting her name," I say.
Chuckling, Jase asks, "Who was it?"
"I have no clue. I was asleep until they came stumbling in and woke me up." I take a sip of my coffee before adding, "It was gross!"
Jase cocks his head to the side and says, "It's not gross, Candace."
"It's gross," I insist before taking another sip of my coffee.
Jase just laughs at me, but I can't help it. Hearing those two last night was disgusting.
"Anyway, new subject. How was last night?" I ask. Ever since Mark's band played at Blur, they have become somewhat of regulars and played another gig there last night.
"It was fun. You really should've come with us."
"I told you, I had to work," I say.
"Nooo, you volunteered to work," he responds and gives me a smirk.
I have been avoiding going out with Jase and Mark. The thought of going anywhere aside from my normal spots, where I feel a little safer about not running into him, scares me. So I stick to school, work, and home.
"You live in a bubble, Candace," he says and then grabs the corner of the blanket that I am under and pulls it over his lap as he scoots up next to me. "You need to get out."
"I am out."
"You're not. I always know where to find you because you have the same routine every week. It never changes." He drapes his arm around me and pulls me closer. "I'm worried about you."
Sighing, I respond, "You don't need to be. I'm fine."
"Don't pull that act with me. I know you're not fine. It's been two months, and you are no more fine than you were back in August." Kissing the top of my head, he continues, "I worry because I only know what you tell me. But I wonder how much this really consumes you that you hold in and don't tell me about. You won't do anything to help yourself."
Taking my coffee mug out of my hand, he reaches over and sets it on the end table. I hate that he's right. I hate that I am stuck. I hate that I am scared. I hate everything about my life. Every day is so goddamn hard, and all I can do is just focus on going through the motions just to get to the next day, which is the same thing all over again. But, it's all a façade. Truth is—I'm drowning.
"I'm constantly scared," I confess to Jase, and his arms tighten around me. "I'm scared I'm going to see him. And I know this sounds absolutely crazy, but...most days..." I stop in my thought, my almost confession, which might make Jase drag me straight to a therapist if I tell him. So I lay my head on his chest and take a deep breath when he says, "You can tell me."
"I feel like I'm going to die."
The place is packed when I walk into work Saturday morning. Brandon and I are busy trying to keep up with the drink orders while Roxy deals with the customers. Brandon and I hardly ever work together because our schedules at school are opposite of each other. He's on a soccer scholarship and is a year behind me. He's laughing about something when I accidently knock the iced mocha I just made all over me.
"Crap!" I grab a towel and start wiping the sticky drink off my arms and hands.
Brandon is laughing at me, and I shoot him a mock 'go to hell' look. "Go clean up, I'll take care of this," he tells me, and I holler to Roxy that I'll be right back.
Luckily, most of the drink spilled on my apron. I wash my arms in the sink and wipe down one of the chocolaty brown spots on my top. When I walk back out, the line is down to only two people. Roxy decides to move off the register and make drinks, so I take her place.
I look up to take the last customer in line, and there he is. The guy from the other night. Only this time, I'm the one staring and not speaking.
"You okay?" he asks, and I snap out of my daze.
"What can I get for you?" I ask. He looks at me intently, which makes me nervous and orders the same drink that he had a few days ago. I turn around and walk over to pour his cup of coffee when Roxy sides up next to me and whispers, "Who's that guy?"
"I don't know, why?"
"Well, he's hot, and he can't seem to take his eyes off of you."
I peek at him over my shoulder and catch him staring. Turning back to his coffee, I snap the lid on and whisper, "He's creepy."
Roxy laughs, and I walk back over to the register. "One ninety-three," I say as I hand him his drink. When I give him his change, in a moment of bravery, I ask, "Do I know you or something?"
"I don't think so. Why?"
I notice his striking eyes. They are almost clear with a slight hint of blue. I don't think I have ever seen eyes that color before. Shaking my head, I say, "You stare." What was that, Candace? You stare? "I'm sorry, that was rude of me," I quickly apologize.
Not acknowledging my apology, he asks, "You go to school here?"
"Yeah."
Taking a step back from the counter, he thanks me for the coffee and leaves. I don't know what to make of the exchange we just had, but decide not to give it anymore thought.
"What did he say?" Roxy asks.
"Nothing really. Just thanked me for the coffee," I say as I walk over to Brandon and help him finish wiping down the counters.
When I get home and pull into the driveway, I notice a red Jeep in front of the house. Walking in, I expect to see Kimber, but she must be in her room. I grab a bottle of water and an apple from the fridge, and when I start heading to my room, Kimber is walking out of hers and shutting the door behind her.
"Hey," she says when she turns around and sees me.
"Whose car is out front?" I ask.
"Oh, that's Seth's car." She says this as if I should know who Seth is. I give her a confused look when she clarifies, "The guy I've been seeing."
Nodding my head, I softly say, "Oh," when she walks off. I turn around and walk into my room, closing the door behind me. How could I not know she's dating someone? Sadness washes over me at the realization that Kimber and I are hardly friends anymore. She has a boyfriend, and I had no clue. I just figured that guy she brought home with her the other night was a one-night stand. I never thought I would drift so far from my best friend. How can we live in the same house and not know each other at all? What's worse—this is all my fault.
The night is cold and misty, and Mark and I are sitting by the fire pit in my backyard roasting marshmallows while we wait for Jase to come over. I am curled up in a blanket as we sit and eat our sugary treat and share a bottle of red wine.
"Where's Kimber?" Mark asks, as he stabs another marshmallow onto his skewer.
Looking over at him, the only light coming from the glow of the fire, I say, "At Seth's, probably. She spends most nights over at his place, so I've been here alone for the most part."