3.0 The Chronicles of Us - Choas & Clarity

Chapter three

•★ Tex ★•

I look over my shoulder when the tires leave the grass and pull onto the asphalt again. The fuck? Did she really just leave me here? Okay, I probably shouldn't have left the car, but still.

Goddammit!

Why does she have to ruin everything with kids? I knew going over to Roy's was a bad idea. We should have waited until that little shit-factory was at least eighteen years old. I fucking knew when she saw that baby, she was thinking of having one of her own. Her voice was all high-pitched and sugary. I swear, when she held it, she looked like she was worshiping the damn kid. It made me freak the fuck out.

A smoke.

I need a smoke.

I pat my back pockets for my pack of cigarettes. Great, I left them in the car. I cross the street and walk through some dodgy neighborhood that I'm not familiar with. There must be a shop nearby that sells them.

Why the hell would she want children with someone like me, anyway? Did she ever actually look at me? I know my appearance makes her panties wet, but she can't possibly have thought that I would be the type of guy that goes to parent-teacher meetings or picks kids up from something dumb like twirling. I mean, maybe guitar lessons ...

No, I'm not that kinda guy. I'm not that nice. I will definitely screw that kid up and then Ellie will leave me anyway because I turn out to be a shitty dad. It's already a miracle I managed to be a decent husband.

I really thought she understood that I don't want children. I know for a fact that I've been vocal enough about it. Every time we crossed paths with one of those little life-ruiners, I made sure she knew exactly what I was thinking. Fuck, why can't she just be happy with what we have like I am? Why change a winning team? Aren't children the number one reason for divorce? Fuck if I'm gonna let that happen.

What's wrong with this neighborhood? Not a single fucking store in sight.

"Hey, man, you looking for somethin'? You seem lost."

I turn my head to the sound. A guy leans against the side of an apartment building that's clearly part of some affordable housing program. "Yeah, I need to buy some smokes."

"Here," he says, holding up his pack for me.

Since I'm in dire need of some shitty meditation, I accept one. "Thanks."

The burn in my throat feels good. I've been cutting back, but I really need it now. I close my eyes for a second while nicotine soothes my cells.

"Aren't you that singer guy?"

That fucking singer guy. "Depends on what singer guy you mean but yes, I'm in a band."

He chuckles. I suppose he's about my age. Maybe a year or two younger. There is something sinister about him. Must be those thick, dark eyebrows. They look like creepy caterpillars from hell. The low-hanging jeans and baggy shirt make him a bit scruffy-looking. Maybe that's just nowaday's style. The fuck do I know?

"We're having a party." He nods toward the door. "You wanna come up?"

I take a last drag from the cigarette and flick the filter in the trash-filled gutter. "No, I'm heading home."

"Come on," he pleads, suddenly sounding desperate. "There's this girl up there that I dig. She's your biggest fan. Help a fella out?"

I suppose I could do a quick meet-and-greet and then get the fuck out. Postponing the inevitable argument might not be the worst thing. "Yeah, fine, whatever."