The Shop

Chapter 11

During my drive back to the apartment, I think of everything that has happened today. It moved pretty fast, the shit with Jasmine and Louis. Today I went to a deli, and bumped into a girl for the second time in two days, all by convenience too. We had an instant connection and decided in what seems like a matter of five seconds that we would be best friends. Then my new best friend, Jasmine, invited me over to her apartment to watch a movie like it was our regular routine, can't forget we are total strangers that know nothing about each other. Then I met her fake ass boyfriend and shit got awkward. All of the memories rush into my head, congesting it with this new information. I take a break from the show playing in my mind and stare at my phone. To my surprise Tara hasn't filled my inbox with calls and texts, which is relieving yet stressful at the same time. It's relieving because I don't have to deal with the clingy part, but the other have of me feels kind of upset that she doesn't care to know where I have been for the past few hours. The drive out of the area is hair pulling and I constantly debate back and fourth with myself not to just get out of the car and walk home through traffic. 

Finally arriving at the shabby building I just park my car two blocks down, not having enough patience to search for a damn parking spot. The lobby light is on, but Roberto is putting on a jacket. I have no clue what time it is, but my guess is it's past twelve because I was stuck in traffic for at least an hour. 

"Hey, um, Roberto." I awkwardly make my way over to his desk and he turns to me a little disappointed. 

"It's Ronal...never mind. What do you need, Mr. Styles?" Roberto gives me a quick smile and I try not to roll my eyes at his formal addressing of me, 'Mr. Styles"

"What time is it?" 

"Well, I usually leave here at about two, so I'd say around that." I didn't need his fucking work schedule. 

"Thanks." I say briefly and make my way to the elevator, pressing the button. It takes a while for the old box of rust to return to the first floor and as the seconds pass, my stomach churns a little more. Why am I anxious? Tara doesn't own me, I'm a big fucking boy. I can go out and stay out as long as I want without shit from anyone. But that still doesn't rid me of the anxiety.

After about five years the elevator doors open, and my feet force themselves inside. 

"Goodnight, Mr. Styles." Roberto waves his hand and thank God the doors close before I have to respond by flipping him off. Roberto hasn't done anything to me, he's actually not so bad but he catches me at bad times and his fucking peppiness irks the shit out of me. 

The neurotransmitters in my brain must be malfunctioning because my finger finds it particularly hard to press the 6 on the elevator. 

A long internal battle with myself later, the elevator is moving up towards my doom and I mentally curse myself out for not fighting myself harder. The doors open slowly, giving off a dramatic feel. This is the part in the movies where the viewers scream at the screen, "Don't go in there!" Thats me now, screaming at myself from the inside saying don't walk in there. 

As slow as I can, the keys come out of my pocket and wriggle their way into the door lock making a 'click'. Pushing into the darkness, my breathe falls when I see all the lights off and the place is dead silent. I didn't even know I was sucking in my breathe, but thats what an angry Tara makes you do. The absents of light does not help my search for Tara, and eventually just make my way to the bedroom, tired from a long, confusing day. 

Stepping into the darkness, I turn on the light and see Tara's body curled up on the bed, she is so peaceful when she sleeps. Worry is on her face but I can tell she is in deep slumber. The pink phone that causes my stress is sitting next to her on the bed and I rest it on the night stand. She is still dressed but I only pull a blanket over her, being careful not to disturb her. My boots slip off easily and my clothes pool in a pile on the floor. In nothing but boxers, I stride into the living room and kitchen. All is silent but my Harry senses begin tingling and a small sound of opening bags of chips come from the kitchen. It's probably a mouse but I'm on my toes now trying to be as quiet as possible, we can't scare the intruder away. I duck behind the counters and slowly round the corner to get a better angle. But I stand once I see Mary in shorts and a tank top stuffing her face with MY barbecue chips. 

"What do you think you're doing?" I don't even give a shit if I'm practically naked in my black boxers which happen to be a size too small. Mary jumps so high, her head nearly smacks into the ceiling and her chest movements accelerate. 

"You asshole I almost died!" I shush her with my finger, trying to inform her with my eyes that sweet little Tara is sleeping in the room down the hall. 

"You're such a prick." Mary growls but I don't take it offensively. I still need to apologize for my little outburst earlier, now that I look back on it, I can see I was a dick for no reason other then I fucking don't like her.

"Thought you were a mouse." I whisper to her in attempt to lighten the mood but she doesn't take the bait. 

"You can't just do that to people." Mary is now whispering too, she has spilled chips on the floor and is now bent over picking them up, I laugh at her OCD habit that she shares with Tara.

"Wait no. I didn't make this mess, you did. Clean it." 

"Hell no." I scoff and she glares right back at me. 

"I'm going to my room, have fun." I call to Mary as I exit the scene but my feet come to a halt. I back up slowly, making sure not to face her. 

"By the way, I'm sorry for flipping out earlier." Hurrying out of the room, I cringe because I swear if I turned around my eyes would see a smiling and giggling Mary.