“Coming!” Garrett shouted as he walked to the door of his apartment. Three abrupt knocks had startled him to the point of almost falling off the couch he’d been sitting on, his computer nearly burning his lap. He stopped in his tracks and slid to the bedroom nearby and grabbed a gray t-shirt, slipping it over his torso as he made his way to the door.
Upon opening it, he immediately wished otherwise. He only stared at the girl’s face, not even a sound escaping his lips. He took in the curves of her face, the darker, blonde color her hair had adopted in the rain, her dark eyes. They searched his, attempting to find what she was looking for, to communicate how she felt; all she saw were various capillaries.
She licked her lips. “Garrett, I know you’re pissed, but you have to let me ex-”
“Save it, Steph. I’m over it.” Just like that, he interrupted and started to close the door when the strawberry-blonde girl in his doorway held it open.
Stephanie’s voice began to rise slightly, hinting at the secure and independent woman she was when they first became friends in the small, packed coffee house ofTempe’s coziest plaza. “No, Garrett, I let you yell at me before and I feel it’s only fair if you allow me to-”
“Fine,” Garrett rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Get on with it, then. I have important things to tend to.” He looked to his sleeping computer and back at her flushed cheeks. The last time he’d seen her was when he saw her outside of the apartment next to his, receiving a goodnight kiss from his neighbor; he had forgotten what she looked like.
Her boots thumped loudly on the wood floor, an odd sound as Garrett had always been one of those people who didn’t wear shoes at home. Stephanie turned to face him as he closed the door behind him and rested his back on it. He quirked an eyebrow, motioning her to say what she ‘felt’ she needed to say.
“What does that mean, Garrett? What was that eyebrow thing?” Stephanie’s voice wavered, another odd occurrence.
Garrett glared at the girl in front of him, still angry and unforgiving. He shook his head and outstretched an arm. “Just, say what you need to say,” he had his eyes closed as his forearm reunited with his bicep, arms crossed under his chest.
“Garrett,” Stephanie cleared her throat. “What you saw was just- it was simply...” She sighed. “I don’t understand why I’m even explaining myself to you to begin with. I mean, you don’t dictate my life. No one does.”
“That’s how you feel?”
“No,” she defended. “Well, yes, but that’s not what I wanted to explain.” Stephanie tucked a strand of her damp hair behind her ear, he hand quickly retuning to her pocket after.
“So, what did you insist on explaining to me, that you couldn’t explain at a later time? Or, never, because I distinctly remember telling you that I never wanted to see you again.”
“That’s what I’m trying to say. That, no one dictates my life, and my friends tried to, by signing me up for that mindless dating website they saw a commercial for when we went to see some pointless movie.”
“Okay, whoop-dee-doo.” Garrett sarcastically wiggled his finger in the air and reached for the doorknob. “Thank you for revealing that nail-biter!”
“I’m not done,” Stephanie pleaded. Her tone of voice was unusual for the twenty-three year old chef. She was never one to explain herself or regret actions, Garrett learning so over the year that they had been friends.
“Why can’t you just tell me what the hell you want to tell me, and get out?” Garrett hadn’t expected company and had busied himself with a task he found somewhat entertaining. The lonely, rainy nights spent in his apartment were his least favorite, nights spent welcoming unexpected visitors slowly rising to the same spot.
