"-So try it" Grayson says suddenly to Brea.
"Try what?" Her eyebrow raises with intrigue.
"You said you can snap your fingers and turn your feelings off... like a light switch, you said, just like that?! So, fall in love with me and then one day...
Post workout, I drank a shake, as all douchebags do, and then made my way home. Having turned LJ down for a "mental health day" - which really just meant smoking and bullshitting all day - I had nothing to do as I had taken off work, thinking I'd still be at the cabin with my family. What a shit show that was.
I swung my lanyard religiously as I walked and whistled around the corner to get on the floor where my apartment was.
Taking the right key, I put it into the bottom first and then— it opened? The door swung open, to my surprise, because that meant the top wasn't locked, but I always made sure to lock both.
I scratched my head but didn't think much of it at first. I threw my keys into the bowl on the table beside the front door and went straight to the kitchen where I squeezed a bottle of water out of the fridge.
After a few gulps, I crushed the bottle and tried tossing it into the recycling bin on the opposite side of the kitchen island, but missed.
As I went to pick it up, my eyes leveled with the key atop the counter. It was just a single key, the spare one. At first, I thought: it couldn't be. Then, I stomped to the bedroom and saw the drawers and closet open. All of Brea's things were gone.
Exiting the bedroom, I went across the hall to the guest room where her photography shit stayed but it was no longer there, either. On my way out, I stepped in some shit. Literal shit.
"Alfie!" I grumbled angrily. When I heard no whimper or small bark in return, I got worried. So I called again,"ALFIE," but this time louder. Nothing.
"If she took my dog—" I started to say in a low voice to myself, but stopped.
No, no, I thought, calmly. Inhale. It's her dog. You brought it for her, Grayson, remember? Let her have it.
But still, we could've came up with some sort of custody agreement. Or did she just not want to see me? I should accept that. Should. But I won't.
After a shower and change of clothes, I sat in my living room, debating on how I would get to see Brea again. I just needed an excuse, and she loved her scrunchies.
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Read 10:41 AM
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It wasn't my proudest moment, but I grabbed the Jansport backpack filled with dog treats, bowls, and toys, and walked with it up to the front door of Chandler's house.
I saw his car was there but hoped he really wasn't. Another car was in the driveway, too, but I didn't know who's. Then there was Brea's which told me she was most likely home. Good.
Confidently, I knocked and waited for her to come down.
The smirk on my face disappeared quickly when it was her father who came to the door, though.
"H-" I cleared my throat,"hey, Chandler."
"It's Mr.Santana to you." What he said made me nod and clasp both hands together, my mouth tight.
"Uh, can I talk to Brea?"
"She's not home," Chandler told me dryly, as he used a hand towel to dry a cup.
My eyebrows furrowed and I looked over my shoulder at her car parked at the beginning of the driveway.
When I turned back to Chandler, I said,"No offense, Mr.S, but I know you're lying. Look, I'm not asking you to snitch but I know she stopped by to get her things. I just wanna talk to her."
The look that came on his face was one of shock. Shock that I would have the audacity to be at his doorstep asking to talk to his daughter after everything that blew up over the weekend. And I don't blame him because I'd be the same way.
"No offense, Grayson," he countered,"but from what she told me, you shouldn't be concerned with her whereabouts."
I couldn't argue with that. Well, I'm going to...
"I don't know what she told you, but-"
"That you fucked up." He gave me this piercing stare.
"I fucked up. I did. Don't we all?" He didn't like my last statement at all, furiously raising a brow at me in true dad fashion.
"Cheating isn't just a fuck up. It's men like you that make women insecure and unable to trust or love again. You're the reason they say men aren't shit. My ex wife cheated on me and I didn't think it could, but it hurt me. Kind of ruined it for me - the whole 'love' thing. It's not the worst thing in the world but I wouldn't wish it on anyone either. Get out of here, boy."
I tended up immediately at his tone. "Sir," my jaw clenched,"I haven't been a boy since my eighteenth birthday."
"Sorry," he dryly apologized,"Get out of here, son." Hard emphasis on the 'son'.
Nodding stiffly, I bit my tongue and let him have it. Brea wasn't coming out, there was no use. Maybe that was it. Maybe this time, there was no going back — no more on and off — and that's a hard reality to face; one without Brea.
