• Chapter Twenty-Seven •

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It had been a month since Erin moved out and quit her job—just when Albert had put in three days vacation. No one had seen or spoken to Erin in over a week.

Which came as a surprise when she showed up on Julian and Albert's doorstep in the wee hours of the morning.

Julian had come straight home after work, not even bothering to have a few rounds for the walk home. Al had left for California to visit his Mother Wednesday morning, and wasn't expected to be back until Sunday night.

        As much as Julian enjoyed coming home to Albert, he had to admit it was nice having the apartment to himself.

He could leave his trash laying around without passive aggressive comments—he could masturbate with the door open—he could watch the tv at an ungodly volume at 4am.

Julian was just about to do one of those things when a frantic set of knocks began rattling the apartment door.

        Julian was filled with a sudden sense of dread as he sluggishly made his way to the door. He expected Al to be on the other side—expecting him to immediately scold him for leaving out his trash on the coffee table.

To Julian's surprise, it wasn't Albert on the other side of the door—it was Erin.

"Is Al home?" Erin asked. Her eyes were wide—her breathing erratic.

There was a light perspiring sheen on her skin, despite the chill in the air and her lack of clothes. She was wearing a white cami, a black cardigan, and thin pajama bottoms that were too short for this kind of weather.

        "No, he's in California—he won't be back 'til Sunday." Julian admitted as he trailed his eyes to her feet—slip on sandals.

Julian's eyes trailed back to hers, watching as she seemingly contemplated her next move.

        Before Erin could run off, Julian spoke. "Wanna come in?"

"No, I- I can't."

        Julian forced a smile as he opened the door as wide as it would go. He gestured her to come in, ultimately reaching for Erin's wrist—coaxing her inside the apartment.

"I don't think Al wants me here-"

        "Al wouldn't mind—you know that." Julian spoke honestly. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, watching as Erin stood uncomfortably before him—still seemingly trying to catch her breath.
"You alright?"

"You got anything to drink?" Erin asked.

       "Water—Coke?"

"Something with alcohol?"

        "Yeah." Julian made his way to the kitchen. He retrieved a Heineken from the fridge, popping off the top before handing it to Erin who had followed him into the room.

"Thank you." Erin drank a quarter in only a few gulps—stopping to catch her breath before going right back to guzzling even more of its contents.

Julian observed the unsteadiness of her hand—the way the green bottle shook within it.

He got a beer for himself—unsure how much longer he could withstand the sight of Erin anxiously tremble, as she tried keeping her composure.

"You gonna tell me what's goin on?" Julian asked. He tried to seem casual as he took a swig, tossing the top into the cluttered sink. Truthfully, he was anything but.

        As glad as he was to see Erin standing in his apartment, he couldn't stand the obvious fear rattling her body.

"You were right—I'm... I'm a fucking idiot." Erin laughed as her lower lids began brimming with tears. She shook her head, and her tears disappeared just as quickly as they had appeared.
"We had a huge fight. I mean... the biggest fight we've ever had. I don't- I don't know what to do."

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