gigs, settled in the wrong places, fell in with shallow friends who wouldn't notice I'd gone, hooked up with a guy who was no prize, and kept on wrestling with which part of this misshapen construct of myself I should smooth down next.
Some would say it was easy. I was taking the easy way out. There was nothing easy about this. It wasn't easy to meander from place to place, the totality of myself contained within a hard pass of a résumé and a storybook of tattoos and a bit of blue hair because I'd tried everything else.
This wasn't easy and it wasn't going to be easy when my current disaster ended. I'd have a pocketful of moody glares and gooey moments and my complete inability to know better.
"Wait," Ash called from behind me as I climbed out of the cab and marched toward his high-rise building, walking as fast as I could without running. "Zelda, wait."
I stopped at the doors but didn't turn toward him. "What are you working on today? How can I help? Better yet, let me page through your email and your calendar. I'll figure it out from there."
His hand met the small of my back and I startled, skittering forward a step. "Sorry," he murmured, his hand still pressed to my sweat-dampened t-shirt. "I didn't mean to—"
"Let's just go upstairs and get things sorted out." The words tumbled out in a breathless heap, each one more panicked than the one before. Though it wasn't panic, not really. It was the moment when the rush of jumping without a fully sewn parachute transitioned from exhilaration to desperation and I started working double time to piece it all together before it was too late. "You'll feel better when you have everything sorted. I always do."
Or, I imagined I'd feel better if anything was sorted, ever.
Glancing to the side, I saw him nod. His hand stayed fixed on my lower back as we walked through the upscale, modern lobby with its wall of succulents and slate, waited for the elevator, rode to the ninth floor.
I couldn't decide who this touch served, me or Ash. Hunger came in many forms and yesterday Ash was starved for comfort. I'd known that as soon as he'd fallen asleep on my shoulder. Today was different. The excitement was wearing off and I wasn't immune to my own needs anymore.
When we stepped inside the apartment and surveyed the wreckage of luggage we'd left not long ago, Ash barked out a laugh. "It looks like there was a struggle."
"The only thing missing is a few bloody handprints," I said, collecting Ash's laptop bag and setting it on the countertop.
He hung his keys on the tidy set of hooks near the door. "Some broken glass."
I righted the suitcases abandoned near the entryway bench. "Or a ransom note."
"Or?" he repeated. "Come on. It's and. And a ransom note, Zelda."
"Okay, sure," I murmured, pulling the handle on my luggage. "And a ransom note." I swept a gaze over the apartment. "I should put this away. Somewhere that isn't the middle of your entryway. If you still want me to stay—"
"I need a shower," he announced, cutting me off before I could open the escape hatch all the way. He shifted toward me, running his good hand over the straps keeping his shoulder in place. "Will you help me?"
I swallowed. I bit my lip. I stared at his hand for a moment. Remembered his hand on my back, keeping me still and—and safe. This new disaster, the one I'd barreled into with both hands, had the power to crush me. This was the one I wouldn't be able to save before splatter.
"With…?"
I glanced up at him. This was my chance. My fingers were curled around the handle of my luggage and my purse was over my shoulder and I could walk away now. I could leave. I could go somewhere—anywhere—and not risk another moment with a man who didn't know how to fight fair or feel his feelings or live outside his self-imposed idiosyncrasies for one second. I could stop this and find a new disaster, a better, simpler disaster. A disaster where I didn't fit and I didn't want to stay. A disaster that didn't ground me with his touch because he knew—though he'd deny it—I needed it.
"With—what, exactly?"
10
Ash
I knew what I was doing. I couldn't pretend otherwise.
I knew exactly what I was doing and I did it anyway. I shot a helpless glance at my sling.