Dancing With Keenan

Chapter Fifteen - Aftermath

My classes were the same as they always were. It was almost four o'clock when I got back to my apartment. Meghan was still there. When I stepped into the living room, she was playing on her phone, the TV quietly playing in the background.

"So, you're just gonna run away from an argument now?" She snarked, barely glancing up from her phone.

A sigh slipped from my lips. I didn't have the energy to deal with this tonight. "You took it too far, Meghan," I told her, dropping onto the couch.

"That doesn't give you an excuse to run away." She rolled her eyes and pocketed her phone. "Just like Keenan would do, right?"

Lovely, I thought. She was definitely geared up for another fight, and Meghan would use anything in her arsenal to win. I didn't need this tonight. I didn't need this ever, but tonight was absolutely not the night for one of Meghan's patented knock-down drag-outs.

I wasn't going to be part of it, I decided.

"Here's how this is going to go," I let out carefully, "I'm going to a friend's tonight. When I come back tomorrow, you're going to be on your way back to North Carolina. Got it?"

Meghan scoffed. "Wonder what Mom would say to that."

"She'd tell you to get your spoiled ass back home. If you have to call her every time something doesn't go your way, you're not mature enough to be on your own."

"Maybe you're the one who's 'not mature enough to be on your own!'" she shouted, "Since you obviously can't see what's right in front of your face.

I stepped into my bedroom and grabbed my backpack. "What can't I see, then?"

"He doesn't love you! Saving his precious little band isn't going to make him come back to you! He didn't give a damn about you or the baby. He only proposed because you got knocked up! You were just some fling that got too real. Why can't you see that?"

I whirled around to face her. She was standing right behind me, her chocolate eyes lit up with her fiery temper. Before I even realized what I was doing, I pulled my hand back and slapped her across the face. She stumbled back and raised a fist in response.

"Y'know what? I'm done."

I tossed a change of clothes in my backpack and stormed from my apartment, dialing Mariah's number as I mashed the button for the elevator.

"What's up?" She answered.

"I need a place to stay tonight. My sister and I got into it again."

"Sure, I'll text you the address."

"Are you sure?" I asked as the elevator doors slid open.

"Yeah. I could use a girls' night."

"Okay."

The call ended with a click, and moments later, a text message came through. My phone's GPS guided me to a tall brick building on the outskirts of the college district. It was both older and larger than my apartment complex, the sidewalks crumbling at the edges. There wasn't a buzzer at the main entrance. I made my way up to the third floor and knocked on the faded brown door.

"Come on in!" Mariah shouted.

She was sitting upside down on the sofa, her head on the foot of the recliner. A half-empty bottle of wine was on the floor beside her and she had a thick book in her hands.

"How bad was the fight?" She questioned, sitting up just enough to take a sip straight out of the bottle of wine.

"I slapped my baby sister."