Raine (Gods of the Fifth Floor #2) - M.V. Ellis Page 0,74
would help clear my mind.
I wasn’t consciously aware of where I was driving until I got there. That had been happening a lot lately. I’d go on some kind of autopilot, but find myself in the same spot every time—the only place I could truly be myself, and say what was on my mind without fear of judgement, or concern about the consequences. The only place I didn’t have to worry about hurting other people. Ironically, the only place I felt alive.
“I’m struggling. Not that you should care, or understand. I mean, I totally wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. You’re the last person I should be complaining to after everything I put you through, yet you’re always the person I want to tell things to, and share things with. I want your advice, and your thoughts. I want you to tell me straight when I’m being an ass, which I know is most of the time. I want your advice on how to fix it when I fuck up, which obviously is pretty much all the time.”
I let the silence hang in the air, not feeling the need to fill it. “I met a girl. A woman. I mean it’s not a thing, because with me it never is, and it’s a fucked-up situation that was kind of doomed from the get-go, and made worse by me, and my... well, just me. She works with me. Actually, more accurately, she works for me, so that’s already a strike against us.
“I know I should know better—that whole shitting where you eat thing. Of course, the guys are losing their fucking minds thinking we’re going to get sued and shit. I mean, I get it—they literally made a rule specifically to stop me doing this, and here I am. On the other hand, I think they need to loosen up, because I feel like she’s not the litigious type.
“Anyway, all that’s immaterial, because it’s done now, thanks to me. I’m fairly certain she hates me. So yeah... nothing new there. I get something or someone good in my life, and we all know I’m going to fuck it up. The boys were right about one thing, though. Even without trying, this sitch had disaster written all over it from the jump.
“We’re so different, the two of us, and I think she just thinks I’m this drug-crazed fuckup. Not that she’s wrong, but I guess with other women that’s been part of the appeal, because they were the same. Noa’s nothing like that. Not that she’s some innocent virgin, but she doesn’t even smoke, let alone anything else.”
Suddenly, even the effort of remaining upright seemed too much to handle, so I sat down. Once I was down, I had the overwhelming desire to be horizontal. I was tired, but not in the true sense of the word—the coke took care of that—yet I still felt steeped in exhaustion, and drained to my very bones.
“It’s a shame because she’s the first person, like ever, that I’ve thought I could maybe see myself with, in any real kind of way. I mean, not that the feeling is mutual, but it’s new for me, and I don’t really know what to do with that. Or I didn’t know. It’s over now, and we’re back to strictly business between us, so it’s all good. Who am I fucking kidding? It’s a fuckup, just like the guys said it would be.”
The grass beneath my back was still cool and damp with morning dew that hadn’t yet dried off, even though the morning sun radiated on my face as I lay there with my eyes closed, soaking up the warming rays.
“The boundaries are totally blurred, you know. Like I spent all night screwing her one Friday, until she fell asleep, then like a freak I watched her while she slept, because I couldn’t look away. Then things went south, and it’s over, not that there was an ‘it’ to speak of in the first place, but then we’re in the office, and she’s one hundred percent professional one minute, and questioning me like she’s my girlfriend the next.”
I didn’t mind that my shirt was soaked through to my skin. The cool dampness was kind of calming, like when Mai used to hold a damp washcloth to my head when I had a high temperature as a kid. I plucked at the dewy grass as I spoke, dropping one handful before grabbing another, uprooting it, and releasing it.