Everything Happens At 2:04 AM

Chapter Twenty-Five: Call Up Your Angels and Your Very Own Charlie.

my chapters keep getting so much longer im????im sorry???? better organizational skills will occur soon??? 

Chapter Twenty-Five: "Call Up Your Angels and Your Very Own Charlie."

"AND KEITH JUST SHOWED up? I'm sorry, I can't process that." Angie said, bewildered.

"Yeah," I mumbled, grabbing a banana and cutting off the tip.

"Well," She tapped her fingers rhythmically against the counter. She had just returned from a client's house, her clothing simple today. Her hair was up in a tight sock bun, and she wore a pencil skirt with a nice blouse. "I'm glad you're going to try and talk to him. Caleb made you do the right thing and it was bound to happen."

Angie glanced at the staircase from the view of the threshold as I started eating the banana, tossing the peel into the garbage. "Do you think he's going to be okay?"

When Caleb and I had shown up to the house. I had stressfully woken him up from the deep slumber in the car. Dragging his muscled weight and a box of tissues, I had managed to get him inside the house. Sitting in the dining room, I watched as Caleb slouched and rested his head in his arms about to take a quick nap on the dining table.

"I'm sorry," I had told him. "Does this look like the sleeping room to you?"

Caleb just groaned and I didn't expect a response anyway. Poor baby looked awful and I was quick to get Tylenol from the cabinet. Tylenol night. To knock him out as if he wasn't originally going to fall asleep anyways.

Grabbing apple juice, I had handed it to him and coaxed him to swallow the pills. "He'll be fine," I told Angie. "I gave him Tylenol. He knocked out the second I was trying to show him the guest room."

"Trying?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I told him 'you can take the guest room' but apparently I wasn't talking in a language he understood-strange because the man can speak three languages-and he went into my room instead."

Angie laughed, familiar with the way Caleb acted. I didn't really mind. The second he hit the bed, he knocked out, in his jeans and all on my duvet.

He fell asleep in his jeans.

I've never been so confused.

"I think he's stressed," I told Angie. "He told earlier this week that he had a deadline for this script he was writing. He probably overworked himself and came down with a cold."

"That's not just any cold," Angie muttered. "I checked in on him and that's like a scary fever. He looked like a zombie."

If a zombie looked like a puppy all adorable like but okay. I nodded in agreement. "He'll be fine. He just needs to rest."

Angie pushed off the table, grabbing her bag that she had left on the counter before she had spotted me. "I'm going to get changed. I'll be down in a bit."

When she disappeared, I fished through the cabinets, deciding to make something when Caleb woke up. If he would wake up today. I wouldn't be surprised if he woke up at midnight and was still tired.

I heard shuffling a moment later and Caleb came downstairs, rubbing at his eyes. He moved a lot better than he had four hours ago.

I would have been glad about that if he wasn't wearing one of my satin robes. My nice pink satin robe.

I groaned, putting a hand to my head. "Caleb, one question. Why are you wearing my robe?"

He picked at it with his index and thumb before smoothening it down. With his strong legs exposed and he raised his sleeves, showing his tattoos. This should not be allowed- "This is yours?"