this side of paradise, reneé rapp

heat waves: ii

Cason closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

She is back in LA.

She's where Reneé is.

She knows she should be a little more excited—she is—but she can't loosen the choking grip that annoyance has on her entire being. Annoyance sticks to her like sandbur sticks to one's clothes, spiky and extremely frustrating to remove. Cason tries to ignore the feeling, but the more she thinks about it, the more irritated she becomes.

Cason knows she's being a bad person. If she truly likes Reneé, why does she seem to hate her so much? If she likes Reneé, shouldn't she be fine with the cat-and-mouse game they're having? Reneé seems to be having fun, so why isn't she? Cason doesn't have an answer; neither does she ever want to figure it out intentionally.

The radio plays a pop song she has never heard before.

Cason hates it.

She prefers listening to Reneé's music.

Too bad, she's sitting in the back of a taxi she has hailed right after getting her one suitcase from the carousel.

Cason has never felt more restless. She can probably relax if she's listening to something her ears won't reject, but her headphones are inside her damn suitcase. This is the absolute worst. However, Cason knows this isn't as bad as the thoughts and feelings that clash inside her mind. Nothing can be worse than that. It's impossible.

God, Cason so desperately wants to jump out of the taxi.

She curses herself internally for even thinking about that. Is she actually going insane over a girl? There are so many things she can do instead of idealizing lying on the highway and waiting for an 18-wheeler truck to run over her stupid body, but she somehow prefers that over thinking about whatever she and Reneé had.

Do they even have anything going on?

Is this a one-sided feeling?

Squeezing her hands into tight fists, Cason looks out of the window. She drowns out the quiet radio as she watches the vehicles pass by, ignoring the twisting and churning her gut is doing. Cason tries desperately to convince herself she's only feeling that because she's incredibly carsick and she's so used to being driven around by her driver.

What a fucking lie.

It isn't much longer until Cason arrives at her apartment. She speedily mumbles thanks to the taxi driver and pays before getting out with her backpack, opening the trunk for her luggage. Cason groans as she pulls it out, shutting the trunk and wheeling her suitcase to the front. Her empty hand finds her keys and simply opens the door.

Everything is exactly as she has left it.

Cold, empty, and barren.

Cason doesn't want to be here anymore.

She drops her backpack on the couch and leaves her suitcase.

Her hands, shaking and damp, go in the pockets of her jeans as she walks outside her house and locks the door again. It will be nice if she actually has something to be excited for when walking into her apartment. Unfortunately for Cason, though, nothing—not even a single sentimental, meaningful item—is displayed on a shelf.

That's mostly her fault, though.

She literally has awards, trophies, and collections to display. Cason just chooses not to because to her, nothing is more important than Reneé. Absolutely nothing is more important than whatever so-called relationship they have, even if it's one-sided. Cason feels it. She feels something. It doesn't matter if it's going to ruin her in the end.