Love and Ambition

4 - From Strangers To Friends

Sean had a run down, cheap studio. Small for the both of us, but big enough just for him. He paid for it with the small wage he earns as a taxi driver. 

"Best one in the company," he would boast. 

I watched him from the living room, making some easy to make food in his 3 by 3 kitchen. 

"So, what do you think?" He leaned by the counter, waiting for the water to boil.

"It's..." I drift off, looking around the studio. His clothes littered on the floor; plastic wrappers and cups surrounded his monitor on his desk; the smell of stale beer hung in the air. The opened window didn't help.

"Quaint?" I managed to curl my lips to a smile as I look at him, nodding his head to my answer. 

He turned around as the click of the kettle took his attention.

"So are you going to do anything after high school?" I asked. 

"Nope!" He walked from his small kitchen, carrying a bowl of noodles. A proud smile plastered on his face as he sat beside me on the love seat. 

"I've got a job, I've moved out," he spoke between his chews, "what else could I ask for?"

I rolled my eyes. 

"At least you have a diploma and didn't drop out," I mumbled under my breath. 

He turned on his phone and started scrolling through Instagram. In the corner of my eye, he stopped his scroll at a picture of some girl's butt. As I turned my head, he scrolled quickly past it.

"No, no, what was that?" I demanded, my face heating up.

"Tch, it was nothing," he continued to scroll, but I stared at him. He sighed and scrolled up, showing the same photo I saw. 

"Do you know her?" I was slightly curious now. My heart felt heavy between my chest, not knowing what I wanted to hear. If he did know her, fine—it was a slutty friend. If he didn't? Why would he want to look at that? Am I not good enough?

He scoffed. "No?"

My heart sank. "Then why are you following her?" I looked at him, searching his face for any kind of remorse.

"Ach," he sank lower in his seat, avoiding my gaze, "it's just some model."

I didn't know why, but tears welled in my eyes. My body felt heavy and my hands shook. I froze. "Can you unfollow her?"

He laughed. "C'mon, you're not getting upset from that, are you?"

"Could you—" I choked in my spit, "could you please unfollow her?"

Again, he laughed. "Why?" He turned off his phone. "Brooke, it's just some model."

"'Not to me,' I thought," I take another sip from the flask, the taste of whiskey burning my throat and stomach. "It wasn't a big deal, it was just a model," I continued, "but I cried so much that night and he didn't care."

My heart pounds like it's weighing down to my stomach—either from the alcohol or from the memory. "It wasn't that he followed her, but it was because he would rather look at another girl than at me."

I turn my look from Jason to the ground as I heard a soft 'yeah' from his lips.

"You felt like you weren't good enough," he takes the flask from me and takes a sip himself. "I get it."

As I heave a sigh, my hair falls, creating a warm curtain on my cheeks. More memories enter my mind as I continue to take shots. Memories that I can't reveal to a stranger because they've dug a deep pit of hurt; feeling like a sense of injustice. 

Why is it so hard to leave him?

A debate of love and plans circles in my mind like a game of ping-pong.

I laugh, more so at myself than anything. "Wow, you don't know how much you're in the dumps until you tell a story to a stranger in the middle of a forest while drinking whiskey."

"Well," he sips again. "Am I really still a stranger?" He looks at me with a smirk on his face. My head begins to spin and my body wobble, the alcohol making my body tingle. I giggle at the idea that maybe he's making me tingle. 

"What?" He laughs with me.

"Nothing..." I say, giggling again. I don't want to look at him. As my stare moves out to the landscape ahead of me, the snow on top of the roofs reflect the early morning light; tinting the town a deep blue as the sun rises. 

"I think it's about time we head back," I mention, the head rush sending me to fall backwards. Jason grips my arms so I don't fall headfirst on the ground. As we make eye-contact in the dark, my cheeks glow warm; the familiar thump in my heart that electrifies my limbs, gravitates myself towards him.

Breaking our gaze, I muster a laugh. "You just keep catching me."

"You gotta stop falling for me then." 

* * *

As I blink my eyes open, I am greeted with a throbbing headache. Memories from last night with Jason replayed in my head, glimpses passing by me. 

"Looks like you had fun last night," my roommate, Jane, comments. I turn to her side of the room, watching her file her nails on her bed. 

I laugh. "I did."

"You were giggling when you came back with Jason," she smiled, blowing at a nail.

"What?" I raise up, leaning closer. "You know Jason?"

She snickers, moving on to another nail. "Yeah, he studies psych," she stops filing and looks at me. "Why? You like him? Looked like you nearly kissed him last night."

I roll my eyes and ignore her as she laughs at the embarrassment evident on my face.

The nightstand vibrates as my phone buzzes. It's a call from Sean. I groan and drop my head in my pillow, hoping that if my head sinks far enough, it silences the noise. 

As I stare up at the ceiling, Jason's face enters my mind. Being with him last night felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Even though nothing in particular happened—as far as I can remember—his presence was just...

"Brooke, you gonna pick that up?" Jane walks across to her dresser, placing the nail file in her make-up bag. "It's been buzzing since I woke up."

Reluctantly, I pick up my phone, staring at the screen; at the heart after Sean's name; at the couple picture of both of us, our wide smiles ought to reflect the happiness in our relationship. My heart aches in disgust looking at it. At the whole thing.

The call ends. 

17 missed calls

I turn my phone to silent mode, knowing that he'll call again. He couldn't be bothered picking up my calls before, why should I be bothered now?