Deuce-ace roommate

11: Coffee

KAISER

Today's class is as dull as ever. Instead, I sneak out and find a bar across the street where I down five or six bottles of beer.

I pay for my drinks and worry about the drive home. I should call Malik, but my ego isn't interested in his preaching right now.

It's raining as I grab my keys and wallet and head back to the organization parking lot, where I reach my brand-new metallic silver Porsche 918 Spyder that I bought last weekend.

Well, that's my parents' way of showing affection—money. So, you can't blame me for using it to buy redundant stuff whenever I please.

I can barely see the street, and I know if the cops stop me, I'm done for.

As I drag on a cigarette and expel the smoke into the small space, I drive four miles per hour slower than the surrounding traffic, knowing I could make it home safely if I maintain this pace and focus on the rain-drenched, virtually blurred road.

With the smoke and pouring rain, my windshield steams up. I have to wipe it frequently to help my impaired vision, a result of the alcohol in my system.

The instructor from the organization had said, "Remember to breathe, inhale, and exhale, knowing only you have the strength to pull yourself out of any depth. Let yourself know you're not giving up. Not today."

I take slow breaths. "Not today," I tell myself.

I can do it.

Fortunately, I make it back to Center Yorker safely. I park the car among the rest of the collection and scramble out.

By the time the elevator doors open, all I need is sleep.

But with the music playing in the background, the house feels like a party floor.

"You can't possibly compare the two," Riley says.

"Of course, now it looks so much better," Daisy agrees.

I stop in my tracks, trying to find a way to escape to my room without encountering the girls.

"We only have to finish the last side; the walls already look good," Riley comments excitedly.

That ignites me. I hastily push my stumbling feet forward until the living room comes into view.

No, she didn't.

I am taken aback by what they've turned my penthouse into and miss what Riley is saying. "Hey, baby, you're back."

She stands before me, wearing my shirt.

Wait, my shirt? Isn't that what Daisy is wearing?

So help me, Lord, if I did not...

"Babe?"

Riley's voice is like a defibrillator to my heart, jolting me back from a long stupor in an instant.

I avert my gaze from the bitch looking better in my shirt to the girl I should be focusing on.

"Are you okay?" she asks worriedly, running her fingers through my slightly damp hair.