About Us (all of us #2)

T H R E E

J O S E L Y N

The present. Age 20

I walk barefoot through the cold, wet grass with a knot in my throat, my keys jingling in hand as I get ready to let myself inside the house.

Why is seeing him again so disturbing? I thought I'd forgotten about him—I mean, besides the fact that I have to see him in pictures with my brother from time to time. But I don't see him that often in real life. I only gawk at the photo and let a short what if drift through my thoughts before I move on.

But sitting with him, laughing with him, being reminded of what happened between me and Marina again—I hadn't forgotten about that. Or about her.

That's kind of hard to do these days.

My vision blurs every time I go to push the key into the lock of the front door. God, I'm pathetic.

But I keep doing this to myself. Telling myself that this is living. That this is what I'm supposed to be doing at my age. Partying and drinking and smoking and fucking whoever wants to.

"Where are you coming from now?"

I jump at the tired voice that spoke behind me.

My mother sighs, unlocking the door as easily as I could not.

I palm my forehead, wondering if the feeling that's just come on is just another brief nausea spell or if I'm actually going to puke this time. "Um, Sierra's."

Not a whole lie, but not a half truth.

I was with Sierra at the frat party. She sort of dates one of the guys that live there—she sleeps over enough to be considered a resident.

Mom scoffs, shoving through the door.

I collapse on the couch as she removes her jacket and pray that the living room stops spinning soon.

"I'll tell you the same thing I've told your brother." She speaks at the coat hanger. "If you keep going at this rate—"

"I'll end up just like Dad. I know."

But is it so bad to end up like him? Yeah he's in and out of rehab, but he smiles more than anyone I know. He laughs more than he talks. He's happy.

Mom's sober and she's miserable.

"Then why are you doing this? Why are you out wandering the streets at night, Joselyn? I don't have the luxury of being home all day to keep tabs on you. I'm at work, wondering if you're going to be wheeled into emergency as another partied-out Jane Doe."

I snort into a laugh, her face hardening while her hands firmly press into her hips.

"You three." She shakes her head. "You are all so alike. You think everything's a game. That life's a game. Well, it isn't. Live your life like nothing matters, and soon enough nothing will."

My smile thins to nothing as she marches to her bedroom, shutting the door loudly.

I'm alone again.

I hate being alone.

I thought I wanted Trenton to move out, but when he finally did it just amplified the loneliness. Not like he was ever home much, anyway. But when he was, at least I had someone to talk to.

I pull out my phone, realizing then that the nausea had finally passed. If I drink some water, I'll probably feel better. If I find someone to hang out with right now, I know I will.

It's late, but I'm not tired. I love being up at night, the world is less chaotic in the dark. Time slows down. Words are felt deeper. Moments mean more.

At at a certain time of night, comes time to play another round of drunk dialing with Joselyn.

Most times I just giggle as I slam a finger on any random name, the surprise element lies in whatever voice greets me on the other line.

But tonight there's no need to be my own random generator. I know exactly who I want to talk to.

After I got off the phone, I brushed my teeth, hair and changed into leggings and a clean tee-shirt. I washed off my makeup and just finished moisturizing my lips right when I got the I'm here text.

I could hear Mom's snores as I pursued the hall.

The great thing about being an adult? Not having to tip-toe around the house when I want to leave at odd hours of the night. Sure, I didn't want to wake up Mom, but even if I did, she couldn't do much more than nag about me being rude while she got ready for work the next morning.

She can't ground me or take away my phone or forbid me from leaving the house. She can't even hound me about who I was going out to see, because she knows I don't have to tell her. I won't tell her.

She doesn't have to know a thing, and good thing because she'd never allow it if she did. She'd wreck it. She wouldn't be able to accept it.

My heart does this little skip thing when I see his Range Rover in the driveway, even though I can't make out his face within his dark silhouette.

I'm in love with him. He's in love with me.

And no one knows that about either of us. Except for Sierra—but she never remembers. She's completely plastered whenever I talk about him. I make sure of that.

"That's really fucked up. On both of you," she'd slur her response, with a laugh. "You're both assholes."

Maybe I am, but I don't see him that way. He's sweet and funny and he makes time for me.

That says a lot about him. It says a lot about anyone, in my book.

We make time for those we want to make time for. For those important enough to spare the time for. He makes time in his busy life for me, and I have all the time in the world for him.

As soon as I'm in the car, I crawl straight onto his lap and he welcomes me there with a tight grasp on my ass as I situate over his thighs.

Our lips connect and I tangle my hands in his thick, gorgeous, dusty hair, losing myself in that kiss the same way I always have.

What we have isn't right...but it feels right in every other way. And the way we happened felt like destiny. Who am I to fight what's destined for me, even when it does come in an unconventionally wrapped package?

I mean, Trenton didn't fight his fate. He made it happen. He put the steps in motion and reached out and grabbed the love he knew was his.

Shouldn't I?

Mom always did say he was supposed to be my example—well, most times she yelled it after he'd done something wrong—either way, I'm following his lead.

"I missed you." His voice is hoarse and I haven't yet broken the kiss, still brushing my lips against his for more.

"I missed you more."

He holds me by my jaw, looking into my eyes much like Gio did earlier. I'm sure I still look a mess and even though I brushed my teeth ten times before he came, I probably still reek of a good time that I have hardly any recollection of.

"Soon you won't have to, baby," he tells me. "Soon...the only time you'll miss me is in your sleep, but even that won't be for long. I'll be the first thing you see every morning. The last thing you see before you shut your eyes at night. I'll be there next to you. Always."

I smile through the tears threatening to leave me.

No matter what anyone says or thinks about me and him, I know what we have is love—even if it is some fucked over version of it.

"You promise?"

"I promise, Joselyn."