• Tomorrow Will Be Different • {J.C} (P.1)

• Chapter Nine •

        Erin gazed menacingly through the windshield of her car, watching as Julian stepped outside the apartment.

She forced her eyes away as he locked the door behind him—making his way down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

        She snarled, continuing with her crossword puzzle.

Erin wished that she hated Julian, but she didn't. In fact, she understood why he didn't like her.

        She could only imagine the conundrum of having her best friend move some stranger into their home—some person she didn't even know. However uncomfortable that person made her though, Erin still couldn't see herself being half the prick he was.

Perhaps that was the problem—Erin wasn't as assertive as she should be.

        Avoiding conflict was Erin's forte, at least up until almost a month ago—when she had trashed Michael's apartment in a fit of rage. She couldn't make sense of what he had done—how he had lied about it.

Michael had looked directly into her eyes, declaring that he was faithful. She questioned all the other times he had gazed into her eyes and proclaimed innocence.

In that moment, Michael confirmed he had the ability to tell baldfaced lies—bold dishonesty that Erin was dumb enough to believe.

        She had moved several states away from home, just to be with him—away from the only place she knew. Michael had brought her all the way to New York, just to sleep with other women.
It didn't make sense.

Perhaps Erin had overreacted—throwing a lamp at his head was probably uncalled for; but there was a part of her that felt her actions were justified.

How was she supposed to react?—Was she supposed to cry and beg him to call it off with the other girl?—Was she supposed to make him pay her way back to Carolina—a place she didn't even want to go back to?

Erin didn't know the answer to that; all she knew was how she felt, and Erin felt betrayed. She was sickened by his actions, and in the midst of having a lapse in judgement, she tried making him feel as badly as she did.

It wasn't only Michael's things that had been destroyed, some of Erin's things had been ruined during their confrontation as well.

        Michael had put most of her clothes in the tub, pouring an entire gallon of bleach over them. This had been after that nice little hole she kicked in the wall. Not to justify what she had done, but the damage Erin had made was nothing that a little plaster and some paint couldn't fix.

He had threatened to pour bleach down her throat if she didn't stop "acting so fucking stupid." Erin took it a step further—she showed him just how stupid she could be by knocking over his coffee table.

The rest of their fight was somewhat of a blur. It happened fast, yet, time seemed to stand still. She had thrown a lamp at him, but the tension of the cord connecting it to the wall had caused her to misjudge the amount of force to put behind it.

        Erin had only thrown it at him because he was charging at her—getting ready to take her down. She did not want to be slammed into the floor; it was covered in glass—tiny sharp fragments that would've been nearly impossible to pick out if it splintered into her skin.

The lamp had barely missed him, but he braced for impact, which had slowed him down. It gave Erin time to get away; she ran to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door just before Michael could grab hold of her.