Ctrl + Alt + Dalt (BxB)

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CHAPTER SIX

AN ODD SOUND WAKES ME. I open my eyes. There's still daylight outside my window, although I feel as if it should be dark, and the middle of the night. I think it's the morning of the next day, but it didn't feel like I slept through the night, if at all. It was more like I blinked and woke up maybe an hour or so later. Ding. My phone goes off and I realize that that was the same sound that had woke me from my dreamless, restless sleep. I check my phone—apparently, it is the morning of the next day—it's Saturday now, not Friday. Unlocking it, there are two text messages—both of them are from Jordan. Finally. The first reads, 'Sorry I was a bit busy.' The second reads, 'Still wanna meet up?' Although, he's being vague about the busy part, I'm ecstatic that I was wrong—he's not ignoring me.

I think about asking him what he was doing—about what could have kept him so busy that he forgot to text me back—and why he ignored my call. I don't want to pry—well, I do, but I don't want to be annoying, nor do I want to appear desperate. Besides, I could just ask him later, so I don't have to do it over text messages. I text him, 'If you're free. You don't have work today?" He replies instantly, saying, 'I'm off, just come over whenever.' I sit up, still on my bed, replying, 'Be there as soon as I get ready.' His return simply reads, 'k.'

I brush my teeth, fix my hair, put on my shoes, and grab the keys to the Corvette, just in case I feel compelled to make any other unannounced visits—oh, who am I kidding? I'm taking the Corvette because why the hell not? It may as well be mine anyhow—Father's hardly ever here and usually away on business and when he is here, he doesn't even drive the thing—like ever. Truthfully, I think that I'm just trying to hide how pathetic that I feel that I am for being excited that I still have Jordan to talk to—maybe I'm taking it to celebrate the fact that I just found out that I do still at least have one, single friend left in the entire world.

Driving to his place, I find myself speeding just a little bit faster than perhaps I would normally. Perhaps I'm just a little too excited to go see the only friend that I have. I slow it down. I'm not desperate—I lie to myself. I'll make new friends—eventually. Right? The hollow emptiness in my chest reminds me that the loneliness will always be there for me, my faithful companion promising to never abandon me.

I get lucky, parking the Corvette in the spot right outside his place, directly in front of his window. I hop out and ring his doorbell and he answers fairly quickly. Opening the door, he's wearing a gray dress shirt and black dress pants. I raise a brow at his business style of dress, instead of his usual t-shirt and jeans.

"I thought you said that you're off today?" I ask him, puzzled.

"Yeah, it's for something else," he replies, quickly but vaguely.

"Interview?" I ask.

"No—"

"Hook up?" I ask, smiling a knowing kind of smile.

"No, it's nothing like that." He turns his head away from me.

"No need to be shy about it. I'll leave it alone, if you're not comfortable sharing—"

"I wouldn't mind if I did have something to share." He returns to face me. "Well, I guess I might as well tell you, since I could use the help. It's for a skit—"

"A skit? As in acting? Like in a play?" I ask with a puzzled look, because, surely, I must have been the last person anyone could think of for help with something like that. I was never in drama class or anything of the sort—ever.

"No, it's for," he says, pausing as if he perhaps doesn't want to tell me anymore and perhaps as if he's ashamed of what he wants to say. His amber eyes regard me as if I might perhaps bully him for what it might be that he's so hesitant to tell me about—perhaps who he might be worried about is the ghost of the old me—the monster that I have long since banished. He swallows hard, before he finally let's it out, saying, "the skit's for YouTube."