Neon light filters in through the window, casting the room in a purple glow. Snow gently falls, collecting on the window seal. Outside, the wind howls carrying the sounds of honking taxis and late night parties. Lying awake, I blink my eyes in time with the flashing neon sign across the street; purple...green...blue...purple. Beside me, Bryan continues to snore, seemingly over our fight from earlier. On the side table, my phone begins to buzz, the screen lighting up. Groaning, I roll over, checking the time. What the hell could he possibly need at three in the morning?
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" I yawn into the phone, getting up out of bed, shutting myself in the bathroom.
There is banging around on the other end, a muffled curse word reaching my ear, "Yes.
"What do you need at three in the morning?" I question, desperately hoping that whatever it is my boss needs can wait until a more reasonable time.
"You know that twenty-four-hour coffee place," my boss starts, his words slurring together. "I just want a coffee."
There is a knock, Bryan pushing the door open, squinting his eyes against the fluorescent lighting. He shrugs, eyes landing on the phone pressed to my ear. The man shakes his head, "Seriously, again?"
"I don't have time for this, Bryan," I hiss back, sliding the bathroom door shut before addressing my boss's request. "Are you drunk?"
There's laughter from the other end of the line, "Maybe. Fay please, I just need a coffee."
"Are you still going to be awake when I get there?" I question, knowing how these late-night runs usually go. By the time I arrive with whatever random demand the man can come up with, he's passed out on the couch.
"Yeah. Thirty minutes?"
I let out a sigh, forehead meeting my palm, "Yeah. Thirty minutes."
"Was that him again?" Bryan demands as I exit the bathroom, pulling my nightgown over my head as I search through the dresser for something halfway decent to wear.
Finding a pair of ripped up jeans, I tug them on, picking up one of the various sweatshirts scattered around the floor. "Yeah, that was him."
"And you're just going?" Bryan continues on, ready for a fight I'm in no mood to have. The sooner I leave and get coffee the sooner I can be back in bed.
Turning to my boyfriend I shrug, pulling my hair up into a loose ponytail, "It's my job, Bryan."
"He can't just call you whenever he wants."
I grab my motorcycle keys off the dresser, shoving my arm through my jacket sleeve, "Actually, he can. That's part of the job."
"Well I'm sick and tired of it," Bryan answers, following me up the hallway and into the living room. "Just tell him no. This is getting ridiculous, Fay. What is this? The fourth time he's done this in a week?"
Shoving my wallet into my jeans pocket, I curl my fingers around the door handle, "Get to the point, Bryan."
"My point is him or me," the man in front of me answers, sleep still clinging to his hazel eyes.
Really? Are we going to do this now? I glance over at the stove clock. If I'm going to be there in thirty minutes I need to leave now. "Well, it's not like you're really paying me to be around so I don't know what you want me to do."
"Don't come back," Bryan instructs. "If you leave now, don't come back."
I chew on my bottom lip. Is he really going to throw away a year-long relationship over something like this? I thought we were stronger than that, "Bryan..."
