'yeah, he does.'

day seven

i slipped my phone back in my pocket and turned back to the group. i thought back to andrew along with a shocking realization that andrew has yet to meet anyone i know, or have met recently. family, friends. i have to read back up on that. 

i had tried, our last school year together (when i was going to ask him out), to take him to my house, but my stupid brother drove him out, throwing candy at him. on second thought, taking him back there could be a bad idea. 

"are you okay? haven't heard you speak that fast ever, it think." andrew says, tilting his head to the side cutely. i sighed dramatically before throwing myself on the couch, andrew quietly sat down next to me. he laid his head on my shoulder gently. he knows how drama-queen i can get when i'm aggravated. 

"i'm sorry," i apologized. "my team just will not bugging me." 

i sighed as my phone rang in my pocket. it was my roommate, andy. he always ruined everything all the time. 

"what?" i answered coldly. i was really pissed; i scared myself. 

"there's a chick at the door asking for you. she's crying and i don't know what to and i maybe also promised you would get here quick on impulse. sound good? alright, see you soon." he said quickly before hanging up. 

i wonder what my brother would think of me leaving andrew with his friends so quickly. i walked out of the ship and into the lobby. i followed the signs to the exit into the street. once i was out i hailed a taxi. 

i gave him the address and we were soon there. on my way up the stairs and through the door, i threw andy a glare; kind of 'we'll talk later', kind, y'know? 

"three years ago, my father told me he wanted to kill someone. one word mr diaz, and it changed my world forever. just one word." i held the note she gave me with shaky hands; i was coming down from my high. 

"what word?" i asked passively. 

"a name."

"what name?" i said, picking up my phone. she walked over to the 'deduction chair' and andy called it. 

"i can't remember. i can't remember who my father wanted to kill. and i don't know if he ever did it." i sighed. 

"you've changed. you no longer top up your tan and your roots are showing. you're letting yourself go." i said, comparing her to the picture my brother sent me of her. 

"do you ever look in the mirror and want to see someone else?" she asked, like any other american female. 

"no," i answered with no hesitation. "do you own a british car?"

"i'm sorry?" she said before i corrected myself. 

"no not british, right hand drive. that's what i mean." she denied, asking why. 

"not sure actually. probably just noticed something." i noticed the car mark on the right leg, but my mouth didn't catch up. the chalk marks i drew in my mind were erased when i swiped my and through them. i kept my hand in the air; it was shaking. i swiftly clamped it shut and shoved it in my pocket. 

"are you okay?" she asked. no, why would i be okay?

"oh, of course you don't own a car. you don't need one, do you? living in isolation. no human contact no visitors." i noticed also that it was pouring outside. 

"okay, how do you know that?"

"it's all here isn't it? look. cost cutting is clearly a priority for you, look at the size of your kitchen, teeny-tiny." i walked over to the window. "must be a bit annoying when you're such a keen cook."