Consequences

Chapter 2: Morning After

I dont think men as a whole were ever taught how to read body language. For women, it is a natural instinct ingrained into our psyche from the years and years of adaptation of women in society. Then, our mothers would help develop that instinct, whether by teaching us or by putting us in such situations that we had no choice but to learn. For me, it was the latter. Men, however, did not gain that instinct, and I am living proof.

I am sitting in my one night stand's car as he drives me home. I've pressed my body almost completely against the passenger car door. Staring out the window, I beg for some superior force to save me from this interaction. Some would say I should have been more firm and direct, but it's not my fault a guy can't listen to a no and read uncomfortable body language. It is my fault that I got in his car, though.

The guy drives mostly in silence, with exception of the light hum he makes as he keeps in tune with the radio station. He holds a tune well. My fingers tap on the arm rest.

How much longer do I have to be stuck in this car with him? This was supposed to end this morning. He wasn't supposed to wake up, and I was supposed to sneak out and never have to speak to him again. Clearly, no one else got the memo.

"You're going to turn on the next left," I say as he drives down the street close to my apartment.

The guy pulls into my apartment complex. The building split into two floors; my apartment is on the second. It's colored a light beige with pops of mustard yellow and black railing. It reminds me of a sad bee.

When the car is parked, I hop out as swiftly as possible. I give a small wave out of politeness. I start to walk towards the building, but the sound of his car door stops me. "Let me walk you to your door."

I'm getting de-ja vu. Why can't this guy leave?

This time I don't protest. It's a lost cause. The guy catches up to me as I get to the base of the stairs and walks in step with me. He is quiet the entire way.

We get to my door. I expect him to turn and leave. He doesn't. Instead, he stands with his head down, his eyes looking at my shoes. They are not interesting shoes. They are simple black wedges I bought from Walmart on clearance. I wait for him to look up, but he continues to look at my shoes and run a hand through his hair. What is so interesting about my shoes?

Finally, he meets my eyes. "I had an amazing time last night."

I look away and play with the strap on my purse. "Yeah, you mentioned that already."

"We should do this again sometime." He cheeks get flushed. "But, like a date. Actually go out, I mean," he rushes.

My eyes widen. Why did I hookup with a guy that has feelings? How do I turn him down gently?

"Listen, uh," I try to think of his name, but I never learned it. Forget being gentle; I'm going to be honest. "I don't even know your name. I'm not interesting in a date, or dating in general."

His face becomes very red. "I thought we had something special."

I'm going to be a bad person now. "No, sorry." I open my purse and fumble for my keys before quickly opening my door and shutting it behind me.

I lean against the door. I let out a breath of relief.

"Late night?"

My head snaps up to find the voice. My aunt sits in my recliner on the far side of the room. I place my hand across my chest, and let out an even bigger breath.

"I thought I was going to get murdered," I say tightly. My chest decompressed.

I lean against the door. My aunt shifts into the recliner, making herself at home as she always does. I take in her familiar appearance: dishwater blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, black jacket pulled over a band tee, and her signature purple glasses. She is always consistent, with the exception of sometimes her band tee and jacket combo get switched out for a flannel, and she switches between old jeans and sweatpants. The consistency is comforting, and I welcome it often.

"How did you get in?" I push off the door and situate myself on the couch.

"With the keys you gave me. Did you forget I pay your rent?" she says with a laugh. She said it like I'd forget.

I was kicked out of my house when I turned eighteen. My aunt has been paying my rent while I'm supposed to be getting my life together.

"How could I forget that you keep me off the streets?"

She raises her eyebrows. "I don't know. It doesn't seem like I'm doing a good job." Her eyes glance towards the door. "Who brought you home?"

Oh, no. Heat rushes to my face. "Just a friend."

"What friend?"

I side glance at her. "I didn't get his name." I stand up and walk into my kitchen. Opening a cabinet, I extend on my tiptoes and grab a mug and a packet of hot chocolate.

My aunt follows me into the kitchen and leans against the counter. "So, a friend that brings you home in the morning, but you don't know his name?"

"Yes. Is that so hard to believe?"

I don't look at her. The mocking in her voice grates at me. I open the refrigerator to grab the milk to make the hot chocolate. I make it up and stick the mug in the microwave to heat up.

"It's hard to believe that you think I believe the crap you spew." She gives me a pointed look.

"Vicky." I use her name. "I'm nineteen, a full grown adult." The microwave beeps. My shoulders clench at the noise. I let out a huff. "Does it really matter where I was?"

"It wouldn't matter, if you weren't living on my money. In the apartment, I'm paying for." She meets my eyes. My eyes harden at her. "Partying every night and tricking guys into paying for your meals doesn't count as getting your life together, Carson."

"But, if your 'friend' wants to pay for your housing and lifestyle, then live whatever life you want." She shrugs her shoulders. "Until then, you're living on my money and my terms."

My hands shake. I take my mug out of the microwave. My hands grab onto the edge of the counter. My entire body stills. I resist the urge to fight with her. It's bad enough I'm getting lectured. I don't need to also throw a fit about it.

My aunt realizes I'm not going to respond. She sighs. "I've given you a whole year to get yourself on your feet." She shuts her eyes and takes a few breaths.

"I'm giving you three days to pack your stuff and I'm moving you to live with me."

...

A/n: I don't have much to say about this one. We've met Aunt Vicky... yeah. Hope it was good. Leave me your thoughts, criticisms, or praises in the comments. (and leave me a vote if you liked it.) Have a good day!

-anniejo05