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The doorbell goes off again, ringing sharply through the apartment and jolting me out of my morbid reverie. My eyes impulsively dart down the short corridor to the doorway, and then to the red digits displayed on my alarm clock next to my bed. It's 7:30 PM on the dot.
Shit.
It must be Drake. I'd forgotten just how punctual he is. For someone so laidback and easygoing, he's so damn keen on always being on time. For everything. If I didn't know him better, I'd say he was borderline anal about it.
Kind of like Frost...
I angrily shake off the little voice in my head for even trying to make that non-existent comparison, rolling my eyes in annoyance with myself at the fact that every fucking thing I think about seems to always link back to him somehow. I mean, seriously. Drake is nothing like Frost. He's actually got a heart, for one. And more importantly, he's not a married, sociopathic jerk who clearly has no qualms whatsoever about cheating on his wife.
A renewed surge of guilt washes over me at the thought of her; the image of her blonde hair and gorgeous face forcing its way into my mind, her blue eyes that are only slightly darker than his staring me straight in the face, forcing me to reckon with what I've done. With what I'm going to do...
The bell goes off for a third time, and I say a silent thank you to Drake for the much welcomed distraction from feeling like a total piece of shit as I make my way to the door. I look through the peephole and spot familiar shaggy brown hair that confirms it's him. Even though I don't exactly feel thrilled about going out, I turn the lock and open the door without any hesitation.
A second later and I'm staring my best friend's brother in his handsome face, my gaze lingering on the goofy, playful grin that's toying with his lips. His signature half-smile offsets the intensity of his whiskey eyes; eyes that are now staring straight into mine.
He hasn't even said anything and already, I have a smile of my own forming as I look at him. I realize I'm a lot happier to see him than I thought I'd be. He always seems to have a way of lifting my spirits. Considering all the crazy, life-changing events that have happened in the last two months, I'm beyond happy to be reminded that some things—good things—have stayed the same.
"Hey, stranger," he says, cocking his head to the side playfully. "You gonna let me stand out here all night and freeze to death or what?"
My heart stutters at his mention of hypothetically dying, faltering in panic despite the fact that it's just a figure of speech and highly unlikely. Still, the words frighten me a lot more than they should, and my mind reels back to the image of that damn folder. I will myself not to focus on any of that right now, mentally shaking the funk off as inconspicuously as I can.
I manage to recover, doing my best to conceal the negative effect his joke has on me behind a forced, strained smile unlike the one that spread my lips just seconds ago. I open the door wider and move to the side, dramatically gesturing with my hand for him to come in. I get a good whiff of his aftershave as the sleeve of his biker jacket ever so slightly grazes my shoulder when he passes by me.
"You know I can't let that happen. Your sister would have my head," I joke. Well...partially joke. Trixie most likely would have my head if anything happened to her brother on my watch. My head and every other part of my body. Even the damn tum—
Stop it! Just fucking stop it, already! I scold myself, getting annoyed all over again that my thoughts keep going where I least want them to.
I close the door behind him and secure the lock once more. As soon as I turn to face him, I cringe because my apartment is a total mess and I feel beyond embarrassed that he's witnessing the junkyard that has become my living room. I know he's not a clean freak by any means, but it makes me feel bad that he might think I'm a slob. Not a cute look, and definitely not the kind of impression I want to give him, no matter if he only sees me as his sister's friend.
"Sorry the place is such a mess," I offer sheepishly, trying to inconspicuously pick up random things lying around in an effort—a clearly futile one—to make the place look a little bit less like a swarm of delinquent toddlers were let loose in it. Drake doesn't seem to be paying my words any mind though, because when I look up, he's waltzing into my kitchen and opening up my fridge and helping himself to a bottle of water.
"Help yourself, why don't you," I offer sarcastically.
He smiles back, his lips curving around the bottle as he takes large gulps, emptying the bottle faster than I've ever seen anyone do. I just smile, feeling my shoulders slump and my muscles relax. I don't know why I was getting so worried. This is Drake. Carefree, laid back, super cool, die-hard lib Drake. He's non-judgmental, open-minded, and so easy to be around. I guess I'd forgotten just how easy. No wonder I had such a huge crush on him and—
Wait a minute...had? As in, past tense? I've always had a huge crush on Drake from the day I met him two years ago, even if I knew in my heart that I would never act on it, the feelings were still there nonetheless. He's just that nice of a guy. In fact, he was the only guy I'd ever had any remote feelings for since...well, forever, I guess. When...when did that change?
He lets out a loud, satisfied sigh after taking the last gulp, bringing my attention back to his content expression.
"Jeez, thirsty much?" I chuckle.
"Oh man, that hit the spot," he smiles with his eyes closed for dramatic effect, then places the bottle next to the gigantic, seemingly unending pile of other empty plastic bottles that I still haven't take to recycling.
I sigh deeply at the sight of it, just knowing he's going to say something about it. He eyes the pile and then looks at me with a mix of humor and confusion, and then turns his attention back to the bottles. He raises his brow in an obvious show of curiosity, scratching his head as he looks at the pile of plastic almost quizzically before speaking again.
"You, ah...you thinking about building a spaceship with these, Roni?" he teases, seemingly noticing my embarrassed smile at the heap of bottles.
"Ha ha. Very funny, Kevin Hart," I say, trying to save face but smiling even wider despite my lingering embarrassment as he chuckles away. The "Drake Effect", as I like to call it, seems to be in full swing now. It's like it's almost impossible not to relax around the guy.
Unlike someone I know...
I can't suppress the urge to roll my eyes at myself. I seriously need to get a grip. Ugh!
"Hey, you got a new phone?" he says, breaking my thoughts up. But as soon as I hear the words leave his mouth, my lungs falter in my chest as realization of what he's talking about sets in. My eyes dart over to him and see what he's reaching for, and I literally feel like my heart is about to jump out of my mouth.
It's the private phone Frost gave me.
***
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Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: New Adult Enemies-to-Lovers Romance
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