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a jackson hall doorway, 2:32 pm.
BRYCE FUSSED WITH THE SILVER DECORATIONS in his locs, rolling them in between his index finger and thumb like a blunt as he waited. After nearly a week of his constant badgering, Sage had let it slip that Chaka would most likely be back at the dorms around 2 PM, but Bryce had been leaning against the heavy wooden doorframe for so long, passing students were beginning to give him strange looks.
Not that that mattered. Bryce had waited for an opportunity to explain himself ever since the coke was flushed out his system, and he wasn't going to let a bunch of snot-nosed freshman deter him.
He rummaged around in the pockets of his flowy pants for a lighter and a loose cigarette to help steady his nerves. For all of his outward cool, Bryce had butterflies moshing in his stomach, and the thought of his old flame rejecting him did nothing to calm them down.
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jackson hall, 2:40 pm.
CHAKA DRAGGED HER FEET against the stone staircase that lead up to her housing, exhausted after yet another two-hour lecture, this time from her Biology 101 professor. The new leather platform boots that she had just bought from DollsKill were soaked, along with her maroon high waters and black crop top. To make matters worse, she had to turn in something for her Advanced Painting class if she wanted to keep her full-ride, and inspiration was failing to strike her.
The only three things that could possibly brighten her mood at this point would be a good, filling Southern meal, meeting up with her friends (which wasn't going to happen anytime soon; Lani was at class and Sage was grocery shopping), and seeing Travis again.
It was amazing how much of an impact that he had on her life from just the relatively short time that she had known him. The few times that they had managed to get together always left her feeling refreshed and craving more; talking to him was always so easy and although she could tell he was more of the fling type, he hadn't pressure her into anything she wasn't comfortable with.
Everything was going so well with them, it made her wonder when the other shoe was coming to crash their parade. It wouldn't be the first time she got too invested in a relationship only to be let down.
Anyways, Travis was busy with something today, and she had to try to start working on her painting anyway.
She shoved open the door to her hall, the creaky hinges groaning with the effort, while simultaneously digging in her backpack for her keys.
"Hey, Cha-Cha."
"Don't call me that." Chaka startled, nearly dropping her keys on the wooden floor. "And Sage isn't here," she said, pushing past him into the dorm room.
Bryce stayed in the doorway, his lit cigarette filling her apartment with the smell of smoke. "I know she isn't. I'm here to talk you."
Her soaked boots plopped onto a rug, and she rummaged around the pantry for something to eat. She would have been yelling by now, the events of her day had left Chaka so drained she didn't even have the strength to be angry. "No. Put that shit out."
Bryce stubbed out his cigarette, shoving his hands in the pocket of his pants like he didn't know what to do with them. "Hey, please. I need to say something to you."
"You stole my art from right under my nose and sold it off for some blow. Don't you think that said plenty enough?" She grabbed an apple granola bar, casually munching it as she tried to quell the rage inside of her.
He stepped forward, and Chaka backed away, warding him off. "Chaka, I-"
"You know I almost lost my scholarship because of that? Because of you? And you have the nerve to come to where I live and ask to talk to me? Fuck you."
"I fucked up, I know that, and you have the right to be angry. All I'm asking-"
Bits of granola drifted to the counter as Chaka clutched her bar tightly. "Don't fucking tell me what I have to the right to be and I what I don't! Get out!"
"All I'm asking," Bryce repeated, speaking over her, "Is that you understand that I'm a different person now. I've got my life straight now, and if you're willing to give me another chance, I'd accept it."
"Are you fucking serious? Get the fuck out of my sight!"
The door was still open, and people were beginning to poke their heads out of their rooms to see what all the commotion was about. So much for being too tired to yell.
"Chaka," he started, once again.
"You're lucky I didn't send you to jail, like I should've." She pivoted on her heel, leaving damp sock prints all over the floor.
"I'm going to take a nice, long shower and think of different ways to murder you. If you value your life, you'll be gone by the time I'm out."
Chaka trudged to the bathroom and slammed the door for extra dramatic effect. Of course he would come back into her life once she was happy with where she was. Of course he would, she thought. She stepped out of her gross, rain soaked clothes and turned on the shower, feeling that the temperature was fine before she stepped in. It was like the universe couldn't let her live her life drama-free for a period of over a couple weeks.
The cold water mixed with soap and ran down her skin, rushing the adrenaline and anger out of her system until she was breathing normally again. Bryce always knew just what to say to get into her head, even if she had barely let him say anything today.
Her room's door closed softly, and Chaka let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.
"Dickhead," she whispered.
Water stopped flowing with a flick of her hand and she stepped out, grabbing her soft red towel so that she could dry off. Now that her head was clear, Chaka felt a sense of pride fill her at the realization that she hadn't cried. She hadn't even had to struggle to hold back tears. That had to be some kind of accomplishment, right? Maybe Bryce didn't have as much of a hold on her as he used to.
Click, went the bathroom door behind her, as she walked out to an empty apartment. In place of the man that had been standing in the doorway when she left, there was a tiny piece of paper with some numbers written under 'just in case', in Bryce's loopy writing.
"Dickhead," Chaka said, this time a little louder.
The paper rumpled under the force of her clenched fist, but instead of throwing it away, she gingerly placed it in a bare, unused drawer. Just in case Chaka needed some real closure in the future, she would need some way to contact him.
Just in case, she thought, reading the writing once again.
