How far can sadness and sexual frustration drive people?
David always had to deal with the trouble of having sleepless nights and restless days. Fueled by caffeine and the utmost dedication to make ends meet, all he knew was bore himself with overt...
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I felt different. A good kind of different—sort of like I'd changed. Was this how people felt like when they'd undergone a successful therapy session or got their bones cracked by a chiropractor? What I wanted the most—the focal point of my attention for the past week—was well within my grasp.
I felt like a champ, as if I climbed a mountain or something. It was great—made me feel special in a way.
The humid blast of wind moistened my face and ashed my cigarette. I barely even dragged on the lit stick within the short-lived moment of my twenty-minute break.
I stared blankly at Darryl as he regarded me.
"You look pensive and lost tonight. You've been silent since last week." Darryl wrinkled his brows. "You okay?"
I nodded. "Just figuring out life." I covered my giddiness with a deadpan tone. "How was the presentation? Did the clients approve for a collaboration?"
"They said they'd call. They were interested, but had to cascade the data to their creative team and see if details have to be revised." He took a drag on his stick. The usual grit that he regularly had was swapped with worry.
"Man, your group did well. Just wait for their email," I reassured, coating my dismay as we both knew the presentation failed.
He knew those comments from the time the presentation had concluded meant the clients weren't impressed. Second chances have never existed in this business. A single mishap could fuck things up, and the presentation that their group had done fucked up big time.
"You think so?" Darryl angled his head to the side and raked his hair. "You thought it was good?" It was like my yes could grant him a miracle with how hopeful he sounded.
"Of course, you worked hard for it." I'm a good friend. We've all lied to uplift people at some point. "You done?" I asked, diverting the topic off work.
I felt bad for him. He drowned himself in caffeine and worked overtime shifts for it, yet here we were, both troubled by the disappointing event.
"Yeah, just one more." He took another long drag from the stress-relieving smoke. "Wanna hang with us tomorrow?" He puffed the fume out.
I sighed the smoke and frowned questioningly at him. "Where?"
"Crocodile's." He flippantly dropped the butt down to the ground, ignoring the big metal ashtray right ahead of us. "Boys night out. Aris and Kent said yes."
I flung the butt onto the tray. "Not sure-I'll meet someone tomorrow."
"Woah?" He smiled and I nodded. "Good for you, man."
The glee I should've given Darryl was translated into a small flutter in my gut. I had to endure a couple of days just to meet Stan, and the prospect made it all worth the wait.
