1.1 The Chronicles of Us - Vice & Virtue

Chapter forty-five

Sunlight.

I thought I'd never see it again. Life behind bars is no joke. Okay, it was just one night, but it was awful. I spent hours in a holding cell with all kinds of ... unique women. And with unique, I mean prostitutes. They were surprisingly nice and they complemented my boobs, but their casual talk about pimps and pussy freaked me out. Clam chowder will never mean the same thing after last night.

I dawdle in front of the door. I should've called Tex, but it's still early. I'm hoping he's still asleep. Perhaps I can crawl next to him and then tell him the story when he comes back from the meeting. It would at least give me some time turn my misstep into something remotely funny.

I'm in no luck. When I step inside the apartment, Tex stands in the hallway with his arms crossed high up his chest and the worst frown I've ever seen. The shadows under his eyes tell me he hasn't slept at all.

Oh, shoot.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

His disappointed-dad stance irks me a little. "Calm down, okay. I'm home now."

"I won't calm the fuck the down. I've been calling you all night and you didn't answer. No one did." His eyes narrow as they observe my disheveled clothes. "Where did you sleep last night? Did you fuck someone else?"

Seriously?

I gasp with offense. "No, of course not. How can you think that?"

He nods at my figure, arms still folded and frown ever present. "How about the fact that you're wearing last night's clothes or that little walk of shame you did."

I'm doing my best to keep a lid on my own annoyance. "You're being ridiculous. The reason I'm late is because the police broke up the rave."

"What rave? You were supposed to be at Charlotte's!"

Chips. Probably should've informed him on that. Still, I'm home. We need to put this argument to bed so I can go to bed as well. I'm exhausted. "Plans changed. She wanted to celebrate her birthday at some illegal party at an abandoned cookie factory."

Okay, that didn't exactly calm him down. In fact, his voice rises. "Jesus! Did you get caught with drugs?"

Didn't I make a promise last night? It seems he doesn't trust me. "No, I didn't take any and I didn't have any on me, so I got off with a warning."

My squeaky clean record and sad-girl weeping may have contributed to that as well.

"So where the fuck are you coming from?" He follows me into kitchen and watches me while I fill a glass with water.

"Jail," I confess, taking a sip to muffle the word. "I had to stay in a drunk tank for a couple hours."

"Jail?" His hands run down his face in a dumbfounded manner. "Are you fucking kidding me? Are you ruining your life on purpose?"

I know it looks bad, but he's blowing this out of proportion. I didn't do anything wrong. Not really. "Why is it such a big deal if I make a mistake? It was just a party gone wrong. Like you've never been to one of those."

His stern features harden ever more. "You're not like me."

This again?

"Why do you always say that." I angle my chin sideways. "It's not true."

For some reason, my words trigger him to snap. "You know nothing of this world! You think everything is fucking sunshine and rainbows. Jesus, you're so naive. You jumped on a bus with strangers for fuck's sake! Do you have any idea how bad that could've turned out? What if I was some psycho serial killer or something? Did you ever think about that? You have zero regard for your own safety."

I'm speechless. Why would he turn the best decision of my life into something ugly? It's not even the point of discussion. Last night is. "It was just a party!"

He huffs. "You shouldn't have gone. You should've stayed here with me."

Is this about control? Is he angry because I didn't do exactly what he wanted? The feeling of Déjà vu is very unwelcome. "So, that's it? You want me to stay at your side 24/7 so you can make sure I don't accidentally break like a piece of fragile china? Or should I just stay between these four walls with my legs spread for your amusement?"

Crab legs.

That was mean.

He slams is hand on the counter. "How about getting a job like a fucking adult."

What?

I put my glass down with a loud thud. "You told me not to find a job."

His angry eyes narrow. "I said you didn't have to. You wanted freedom and I fucking gave it to you. And what did you do with it? You got wasted and high."

We both did. We had fun. Didn't we?

I throw my hands up. "What are you even talking about? I left my whole life behind for you. Everything I do is for you."

He lets out a frustrated breath. "You seriously think I believe that? You were more than happy to leave your uptight parents and boring fiancé. It was never about me, it's all about you! I'm just a vessel for your need to party."

"How dare you say that! I've been all in from the start. Do you even love me? How much experimenting will it take before you finally figure it out?"

His shoulder stiffen and a guarded look appears. "Don't throw that shit in my face right now."

"Say it, then!" Tears are brimming my pleading eyes. "Say that you love me."

He looks at me with a face full of doubt. I can't bear this. I can't hear his rejection. He sees no future with me. I swallow my pride and quietly ask, "Do I even make you happy?"

More silence.

He sighs miserably, sorrow in his eyes. "Don't make me answer that question."

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. Whoever came up with that nonsense has never experienced a vocal punch in the chest. I step backwards to the door. "I can't do this."

His feet stay rooted and his hand, that's clutching the kitchen counter, trembles. "Where are you going?"

Another step. "Away from here."

His somewhat composed attitude cracks violently. "Fucking go, then!" he yells, smashing last morning's plate against the wall.

Loaded silence follows the sound of breaking ceramics. He didn't throw it in my direction but some shards landed close to my feet. All I can do is stare at the broken pieces and wonder if it's a metaphor. Pick them up or leave them be?

When I look at him, shock and regret strike across his features. He shoves his fingers in his hair. His entire demeanor seems unhinged.

In this moment, I can't help him. I need to seriously calm down because I'm angry too. Without a word, I leave the apartment and close the door behind me.

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A/N

Yikes, this is not going well ...

X Dionne