Look at You

Chapter 44

44

I walk into work on Tuesday refreshed, as Doug has implored. Apparently, I haven't done enough though.

"Where's your breakfast?" He looks at me like I've just walked into the draft room without a shirt on. I look down at myself. I have a cup of coffee in my hand from the staff kitchen, and I'm wearing all my clothes.

"I—" I stop. Doug continues to stare at me, unblinking. His button-down shirt today is shiny black silk. I nod, slowly. "I will go to get some bagels."

"As you should."

I've worked for Doug for long enough to know exactly what this means. It means we're done. It means we have everything sorted, double and triple-checked. It means the only thing left for him to do is shut himself in his office with no one else but his Beethoven records. And bagels. So he can look over every little detail one final time.

By the time I come back with his favorite—an egg bagel with chive cream cheese and bacon—Doug has already retreated upstairs, away from the prying eyes of the communal draft room. I knock on his office door.

"Leave it outside!"

I stifle a laugh. He's giving me Gollum with the Ring vibes. "You got it boss."

When I head downstairs, Little and Paul are sipping coffee in the draft room. Little's giant hands are thumbing through today's newspaper, and Paul is playing sudoku on his iPad.

I pull out a chair next to Little. "Gonna be one of these days, huh?"

Paul nods, not bothering to find my eyes. "Enjoy the silence while you can, young one."

So, I do. I spend the morning reading the news (thanks for the inspiration, Little), and downloading crossword apps on my phone (and thanks Paul). I find my way to our local news site (Baker Centennial) and immediately see an ad for an apartment for rent. All the image shows is a photo of Main Street Pizza, so now I'm curious, and I'm starting to feel like I have enough money in the bank to entertain the idea of moving out of Riley's. I click it.

The link brings me straight to Zillow, and it's hard to keep my bottom lip closed when I start scrolling through the pictures. It's a converted loft on Main Street with stainless steel appliances that barely have the plastic covering torn off. The fridge has an LED touch screen, and the master bathroom has two—possibly three—shower heads. Everything looks like the finishing touches have been put on just today. I scroll down to see the price of the listing, and it isn't there. But judging just by the fridge alone, I could never afford the place.

But Simon could. It's the first time I've thought about him since I stepped foot into the office. I send him a good morning text because I don't want him to think anything should be different between us. And the only way I can survive is to pretend it isn't.

He doesn't answer me right away. I busy myself with the crossword app and send a few texts to Craig and Finn. I've barely seen either of them outside of their respective places of work, and there's a guilty pit in my stomach.

Despite that guilty pit in my stomach, I know I won't do much to change it.

Because when Craig thinks of me, he probably still imagines me sitting across from him in our rehab center visitor's room, that stupid yellow sunshine paint on every well. And Finn. He's hardly even seen me outside of those stupid yellow sunshine paint walls. I feel like neither of them know me at all.

I'm too anxious, sitting here with nothing to busy my hands. I send another text to Simon. Can I bring you lunch? Because anything is better than sitting here, thinking about how little I've told my supposed best friends about who I am now, how terribly I could have messed up my friendship with Simon, and why the fuck I haven't told him anything about me. Too many secrets to keep with up. Only a sub can make this better.