And I learned something valuable that day: always watch your six, don't trust words, and never take the first shot. I'd never lay victim to a man ever again.
Mondays were created by a traitorous cunt who thought a new start of the week was a good idea.
The clock reads two in the afternoon—my allotted break was over two hours ago. Toby would kill me if I didn’t take one. Stopping at my locker in the employee portion of the restaurant, I grab my spare joint tucked into my bag. It’s one I keep close by. Smoking isn’t something I partake in often, especially not after Wes and his dickish behavior. It tends to remind me of him, and that’s not something I like to relive.
Heading toward the back, I leave a rolling pin between the door to make sure I don’t get locked out. It’s not a risk I’ll ever make again.
It’s been days since we both got drunk. Dad hasn’t stopped calling, Gray hasn’t stopped texting, and I’m stuck in a play-by-play work life and sleep life. Toby is always home. He sleeps next to me every night, but it’s weird. We don’t talk. We don’t touch. We just don’t.
Come over, Joey. Or we’re breaking up. I laugh at her message.
Only if you have hot Cheetos and cheese.
I thought you stopped getting high. I chuckle, loving that she’s so attuned to me.
Never truly stopped. But seriously, I’d die for both. As I’m sending the text, I stop at my locker and get my little copper cigarette holder. It has a white front with a red rose stamped on. It was my grandmother’s. It’s also where I keep my blunts.
What’re you doing? Gray’s message pops up on my phone. Swiping up to see her others, I notice she messaged me five times, simply to say hi.
About to take a hit on the back-truck entrance.
You’re smoking right now? Is her automatic response. It’s insane—for how much we talk, we don’t really talk. We’ve grown closer over the years, but her staying in France ninety percent of the time takes our friendship to a text-and-call-only kind. She’s doing better now, Ace is far away, and she’s seeing this new royal dude. He treats her right, so that’s all that matters to me.
Started again, seems to be the only thing that helps my depression. Shivers overtake my frame. It doesn’t help that it’s a little overcast and moody, bringing a chill that only furthers the one already sweeping over me.
I didn’t know that. She messages back. Bring some over tonight. Need to let loose.
It just dawned on me that she’s in the States and not France.
You’re home? I check the calendar, noting it’s spring break. Wow, time has flown right on by.
How the hell else would we hang out, weirdo? Just flew in to see Dad for spring break. I smile at that. Francis loves his little girl. How they’ve bonded over the years is amazing. I’m proud of him for taking care of her. He never stops trying to make her life the best it can be.
I’ll be there at seven-ish. It’s not a late night for once. I’m actually going to be slowing down here. Last night only pushed me further. I’m going to find a new job away from Hollow Ridge, and I’m going to thrive there and eventually divorce Toby. Something makes me cling on. Maybe it’s the thought of giving up, or maybe it’s the inability to live without him. Either way, we only hurt each other, and it’s exhausting.
We deserve more.
I light up, and for the first time all day, I breathe. Fuck. It feels good to let loose. Even if my way to do so isn’t conventional.
Toby wanted me the other night, so after my shower, I went to our room. But he wasn’t there. Good thing, I was nearly combustible seeing the lust swirl in his eyes, wanting to give in. But he fucked some chick, and I have more self-respect than that. This time.
It’s not even the fact that he cheats that makes me hate him; it’s that he has this idea that I’m worse than he is. He’s the only man who has touched me since Wesley. The only one.
Yeah, Francis and I shared a single kiss, but we never got intimate. The fact that Toby can’t see that makes me mad. It pains me that he thinks I’m intentionally hurting him too. Who lives like that?