ATONEMENT || 𝟏𝟖+ [hiatus]

𝑥. 𝑔𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑡

──・・𖦁・・──

Jesse and I went over to Ophelia and Levy's new place to help them move in. It seemed pretty straight forward, just help the girls set up their new apartment. Easy enough, right?

Yeah, until you realize that all those luxury items weigh more than they have any right to. My muscles are sore after lifting couches and dressers and beds and desks and bookshelves. It's alright, I don't mind helping my friends. Plus, I wasn't really doing anything today, so it meant I didn't have to sit around bored at home.

Although I've had plenty of work to do between helping them, and working with clients at the firm, thinking about Delilah still takes up an obscene amount of my time. She runs around my mind at all times, even when I do my best to divert my thoughts. I wonder if she ever grows tired, or if it's a great workout on her end.

In reality, it's an internal struggle, and most likely one-sided. She's got so much on her plate, I question if she even has time to think about herself, let alone think about me. I don't know why I'm like this. Isn't it a conflict of interest that one of her board members is thinking like this?

It feels like I'm in the shower for hours, and maybe I have been. It helped my aching muscles and cleared my head to a degree, but not by much. As I step out of the shower, my first instinct isn't to get dressed, but it's to get a fucking glass of whiskey. Any normal person would get dressed before going down to his kitchen for an alcoholic beverage, but I'm in my own house and my body has become uncomfortably hot. I don't even bother drying off my hair, I just pour myself a glass of glenmorangie signet.

Everything's going well, other than the way my mind travels back to Delilah's soft, tan skin...her smile...her dimples...how smart she is, and I even pour myself a second glass. Everything's perfectly fine, that is, until I hear my front door open and close, and the sound of footsteps near the kitchen. What the hell is going on?

"Tristan!" This isn't happening. There's no way.

As I scramble to cover myself with a nearby dishtowel, Jesse and Alexander stroll into my kitchen holding up a tray of brownies and two packs of beer. It's a feeble attempt. At best, I'm able to position myself behind my kitchen island, slightly bending my knees to obscure myself from the waist down.

Jesse slams the tray down so hard the brownies leap a few inches into the air. "What're you doing, man?"

"I'm not sure what you mean." I chuckle awkwardly."

"You..." Alexander starts, but he ends up motioning with his hand.

"I'm just enjoying some whisky, like any other man would on a Wednesday afternoon." I try to smile like nothing's wrong and hold up the glass. It's hard to stop my hand from trembling, though. The ice cubes clash against each other and the side of the glass, creating harsh, ugly tones.

"You got a girl over or something?" Jesse asks, half joking. "If so, say the word and we're out."

I can't stop the blush creeping over my neck. The only girl who's been on my mind recently is Delilah, and it's definitely not in the way he's suggesting. My thoughts toward her are complicated, to say the least. God, I feel like I've gone back in time three or four years. The same thoughts I had toward her then have made themselves comfortable in my brain once more. I'd appreciate it if they didn't stay there all the time.