18+ | Eva French relocates from sunny Florida to the gritty streets of Detroit, seeking a fresh start. But her new beginning takes a dark turn when she experiences a traumatic assault on her very first night in the city. Haunted by the incident, Eva...
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Vince Matthews
"You wanna come over for dinner and drinks?" Jay's voice crackled through the phone that Saturday afternoon. I noted he did not sound nearly as enthusiastic as usual. After a pause, he added hastily, "She's not here."
"Yeah," I agreed, "Sure. What time?"
"Seven works for me," Jay responded, his voice still lacking its usual energy.
"Okay," I replied, a hint of concern creeping into my tone. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," Jay reassured me a little too quickly. "Just want to catch up. It's been a while."
He was being dramatic, I thought. It hasn't been that long. Just three or four days since I last went to his house and seen her. Since then, I haven't even thought about heading back over to Jay's again. Avoiding Eva felt like the right call for me. I had no interest in playing any games or indulging in the nonsense of wandering around places where I thought we might bump into each other, hoping for a fleeting glimpse of her. That was not my style when I was upset. I avoided her like the plague.
Seeing her, talking to her, or thinking about anything remotely to do with her was something I wanted zero part of. It was precisely during this thought that my gaze fell on her jacket, abandoned and hanging from the back of my bedroom door. I reached out to grasp it. Even without bringing it close to my nose, her scent found me.
Suddenly, I decided I no longer wanted to go to Jay's house. For what? To sit there and listen to him lecture me about Eva all while he pretended he didn't have feelings for her himself? And what if she shows up? What would I do then?
A surge of anger coursed through my chest, fueled by memories of the last time she had been over at my house and the confusion she left in her wake. How could she just leave like that, without a word? I was furious at her for the mixed signals, but I was even more angry at myself for how poorly I had handled it. I balled the jacket up in my fist, my fingers curling around the fabric until my knuckles turned white. Without thinking, I hurled it across the room, watching it land in a crumpled heap on my bed.
I spent the night alone. I stared at my cell phone, its screen illuminated with unread messages from Rosalia. We had started texting again, though we hadn't met yet. Despite her eager suggestions for a nightly rendezvous, I found myself making excuses to delay our meeting. There had been missed calls from Jay, too. Four in a row about an hour ago sat in my missed call log, along with a few texts.
"U coming?"
"where are you?"
"bro."
"I'm eating w/o you."
Ignoring them all, I tossed my phone aside, the weight of loneliness settling heavily upon me.
