Gone for Good //HS

Chapter 4

Blake's POV 

I slam the front door to my apartment shut, toss my keys to the counter and ignore the fact they ended up on the ground instead. I storm to the bathroom, and stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes colder under the florescent light, and the constant contempt look adorning the features of my face seeming deeper. I sigh shaking my head at my reflection. 

I sit down on the cold linoleum floor and lean my head against the wall. I shut my eyes, counting the time between the inhale's and exhale's I allow. When I get to twenty-six seconds without breathing, my eyebrows knit together in the familiar pattern of annoyance as my phone rings in the kitchen.

I push myself onto my feet and walk to the sound of the noise. When I find it on the counter where I had left it this morning on accident, I tap the green button.

"What." I snap.

"Uh, it's Harry." The weight on my chest that I didn't realize was crushing me lifts, and I feel my muscles relax.

"Oh." I sit down on the old white, wire dining chair I got from Megan. I'm not exactly used to having a normal conversation, I don't talk on the phone much. I pick at my nails nervously waiting for a response. 

Nervous laughter escapes from the other line, and I smile.

"I was just wondering when you were free? For our date." His words rush out and pause at strange timings. 

"Yeah, I'm free anytime after eight tomorrow." I slowly breath out. I wasn't doing anything tomorrow, besides working at that horrendous coffeeshop, but I thought it would be better if it seemed like I was.

"Alright, is there anything you would like to do?" He seems unsure of himself. 

"Isn't that your problem?" I speak without thinking. I scrunch my face, and bite my lip in regretful anticipation.

He clears his throat before speaking again, "I suppose you're right." He laughs, thankfully disregarding the rude tone I took with him. 

"Where should I meet you tomorrow?" 

I could not be more thankful he hasn't suggested us going to dinner and a movie, those dates aren't really my style. 

"Come to my apartment, 227 East 7th Street, I'll come down and meet you." 

"I wasn't ready for the address quite yet, can you please repeat that? I need to write it down." I can't help myself from laughing at how awkward this phone conversation is becoming. 

I wait a few seconds for the okay to repeat my sentence. 

"Okay, what was it?" 

"227 East 7th Street." I slowly emphasize each number and word, making a point. 

"Mhm, how do you spell that?" He jokes on the other end, causing me to laugh again. I haven't shared a real laugh with someone in such a long time. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." I say, trying to end the conversation. 

"Yeah, I'll see you then." A long, and somewhat uncomfortable silence ensues on the line. I wait a few more seconds hoping he'll hang up. 

After those seconds pass I realize I'll have to do it. I tap the red telephone button, and toss my phone onto the small, circular, matching wire dining table. 

I walk into my bedroom, and without much else I could do, I think I should just go to bed. Although my shift gets done at five, I normally go out and try different restaurants around the city, then walk around for a little while. On average I get back to my apartment at nine or ten.