Till We're Legends

3.

CHAPTER THREE

I poured the dirty mop water down the toilet and tried to wash off whatever dirt was left in the bucket. It was almost five in the afternoon and I had finally finished cleaning the entire apartment.

I went to the small closet across from the bathroom and put all the cleaning supplies back in the right places. I went to the living room and admired my work. Everything was spotless. All the DVDs, video games, and books were in their right places. The coffee table glass was clean and shiny. The couch no longer smelled and the new pillowcases no longer had weird stains on them. The kitchen area was also very clean and organized.

I inhaled deeply and only smelled the new pine air freshener I had plugged in.

I went to my room and also felt proud at how clean it was. Upon entering, my bed was on the left corner with a small nightstand with a lamp, a book, and my alarm clock. Next to that was my closet all neatly sorted with my clothes and shoes and some junk I shoved in there. Out of sight, out of mind, no? On the right side of my wall was my desk where my computer sat with a desk lamp and a few books. I didn't use it much except for gaming with Noe during our nights off. My dresser was on the opposite of the bed where a small TV stood.

I crashed on my bed with a content sigh and stared at the ceiling. Even if I was thirty years old, my ceiling was still covered with glow-in-the-dark stars. It was a childish thing, I knew, but since moving here, I missed the night starry sky we had in Alaska. It just wasn't the same here in California. My mom saw these in a dollar store and couldn't resist putting them up all over my ceiling to surprise me. I remembered on some nights, my parents would stay in bed with me and we would just stare at the ceiling until I fell asleep. I could tell they missed it too but somehow refused to put any in their room.

My phone buzzing in my pocket brought me back to earth and saw it was a message from an unknown number. It was a simple "hey" and it made my blood boil. Even with the unknown number, I knew who it was from.

Gwendoline, my older sister. And by old, I meant way old. Whereas I was only thirty years old, my sister was a hundred and fifty but didn't look a day over twenty-five.

I sat up with a sigh, no longer feeling at peace, and deleted the message, not bothering to reply back. Not that I would ever do that.

She was dead to me.

I went to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and put on a simple pair of jeans and a dark grey T-shirt. I tugged on a pair of sneakers and a sweater. I grabbed my keys, wallet, and phone before heading out of the apartment building.

I needed to feed, the growling in my stomach was starting to annoy me.

I went to the nearest bar which wasn't more than twenty minutes away and took a seat at the bar towards the back. It wasn't empty but it wasn't crowded. Then again it was a Thursday night. The cute bartender wearing a small tank top and shorts came over to me and flashed me a pearly white smile, tucking her overgrown bangs behind her ear.

"What's it gonna be, Olly?" She asked, her voice a bit deeper than one would expect from such a small person.

"A whiskey." I shrugged giving a minute thought. I wasn't much in the mood for this kind of drink, but I couldn't be in a bar and not drink anything. She nodded and placed a glass in front of me.

"Just you today?" She asked, pouring my drink and adding ice. I nodded.

"Noe's working the late shift." I said, nodding my thanks as she put the bottle down and bounced on her heels to make her chest bounce.

"When are you ever going to ask me to come home with you?" She said, going straight to the point.

I took a sip and shrugged, pulling my sleeves up. Her eyes dropped to my arms and I noticed her heart skip a beat. Why did that always turn women on? What was so special about rolled-up sleeves? I never got a hard-on when women did that. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and sighed dramatically.