Chapter 18: The Choice Is Yours

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XVIII. 

Trigger Warning: Brief mention of self harm

Now it felt like that tether was turning to ash in the wind, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Lauren sat still for a few seconds before pouring a glass of water in the kitchen and perching on the arm of the couch to watch the hamster jog around in his cage. She had contemplated going after Camila the moment the door had closed, but knew deep down that the brunette needed time alone. It had done her good before, there was no reason why it wouldn't do the same again.

The girl then found herself pacing around the apartment, walking a series of soothing laps from the centre of the kitchen to the centre of the living room.

"This could be an out for me." She told herself quietly, sitting down on the couch and grabbing the remote. The device was set to the evening news as a default, and the moment the depressing news flashed across screen of a pedestrian killed by a bus, Lauren knew that there was no out. In fact, she knew that the moment the pattern of death began to emerge, Camila was ultimately going to be given the choice.

***

It took me a few minutes to calm down before I got behind the wheel once more and started off into the city. There were a few places I could go, none of them all that appealing especially as the sun was soon to set and the traffic would only get worse. I stopped at a small restaurant before digging through the glovebox for my fake ID and hoping I could get my hands on another glass of fresh orange juice.

I knew the second that I saw the waiter with his thick eyeliner, rainbow buzz cut and too-tight jeans, that I was going to have an issue with the flirting. Rather than even bothering to weasel my way into alcohol, I ordered a glass of sparkling water with a spinach grilled cheese sandwich, and curled up in a corner booth to nibble away.

An hour or so later, I had made myself a nest of free refills and doodled-on napkins.

"Hey." A soft voice had me looking up, noticing that the sky outside had become dark, and even the lights inside had dimmed to encourage people to drink more. There was a busboy standing over me, a plastic bin at his hip and a sympathetic look on his face.

"Hi." I nodded, looking back down at the table. "Sorry, you can take this stuff away, it's pretty much done."

"Nah, that's not why I'm here." The boy shrugged. "I was actually just doing a run out back when I saw you. You look a little down."

I looked up at him again, noticing that he must have been a few years older than I was. He had a mop of lazy blonde hair, most of which was gelled up, the rest falling in precise waves around the sides of his head.

"I'm alright." I lied, shrugging. "I just... it's been an interesting day."

"I hear that." The boy smiled. "Hey, we're about to get the dinner shift started soon, and I can bet you a hundred bucks that my manager is going to ask you to leave. Myself and a bunch of the other guys get off in about an hour or so, what do you say we take you out for a drink?"

I blinked a few times, leaning back in my seat and crossing one leg over the other. "You're asking me out?"

"Nothing meaningful." The boy laughed. "My girlfriend is out in Ohio finishing up her grad work and you look like you need a little pick-me-up."

"Your girlfriend is out at school in Ohio and you're in Florida working as a busboy?"

With an eye-roll, the boy shook his head. "It's hard to find work out here, don't judge me." He replied with a hint of a smirk. "We're trying to save up and buy a car, but I figure I should work towards getting myself a plane ticket first."

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