Purposefully Coincidental ✓

31. Privacy

Leo

I keep my eyes locked on Josephine as she tries to hold herself together while walking to the bathroom.

Her brother is one piece of shit.

What the fuck is his problem?

The moment he entered Josephine's place and saw us—our hands—he kept shooting glares at me.

I have done nothing to him to make him hate me.

You'd think he's mad at me for sleeping with his sister, but if he has a sister other than Josephine, then I haven't.

And I don't think I've fucked a girlfriend or an ex of his.

So what the fuck is his fucking problem?

He has the nerve to tell Josephine I'm 'bad news' when he brings strangers into his little sister's apartment.

What a fucking hypocrite.

If he cares about his sister's safety and well-being so much, then he shouldn't just bring his friends here without giving Josephine notice. Because, like she said, what if she was naked? I'm sure he wouldn't want his male friends to see that.

Roman and the rest yell and shout while playing some game on Xbox and pretend I'm not here.

I'm still sitting where I am as long as possible to give Josephine some alone time to do whatever she needs to do in the bathroom.

Is the concept of privacy so difficult to understand?

Every decent human being knows that you don't just enter someone's place like that. Brother or not. From what I've gathered, this is a recurring thing. Something Roman does the most.

I hate how Josephine's eyes almost glossed over with tears, but she held it in. And I hate that fake smile she gave me before walking away.

I can't take it anymore. I want to comfort Josephine somehow. Standing up, I make my way to the bathroom without glancing at any of the guys.

I can practically feel Roman's eyes burning holes in my back, but I'm focused on one thing now.

Softly knocking on the bathroom door, I say, "It's me."

Is it that difficult to just fucking raise your hand and knock? A two-year-old can do it. A fucking dog can do it.

The door opens a hair and I push it further open with a hand before entering.

I gently close it without turning the locks, even though I really want to. But I'm one hundred percent sure Roman will be on our asses in a couple of minutes.

Josephine is sitting on the toilet with the lid closed and she's hunched forward, her head in hands.

I lean against the sink and just stand there, giving her another moment to herself while still letting her know I'm here.

When I can't take the silence in the bathroom anymore, I say the first thing that comes to my mind. "Do you know how many folds a chef's toque has?"

Her head slowly lifts, and she furrows her brows.

"What?" Her face is flushed from anger, no doubt.

"The white hat of a chef." I repeat. "Do you know how many folds it has?"

It was something I watched on TV yesterday.

"Uhmm." Her teeth sink into her lower lip. "I don't know."

I give her a gentle smile. "A hundred. It's supposed to represent the number of ways an egg can be cooked."

"That's," she clears her throat. "Interesting."