Chapter 20

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Chapter 20

The flight home is unbearable. Our seats aren't together this time, and I'm left fending off my anxiety while sitting beside a middle aged woman who is so large she takes up all of her seat and half of mine. The turbulence is worse this time around, too, the plane bumping and skidding through the tormented winds.

I try to distract my mind, but every time my thoughts move to something else, they inevitably fall back on Blake. I can't help but wonder if he requested to sit apart from me. My stomach churns at the thought. Or maybe that's the burrito I had at the airport.

The woman beside me adjusts in her seat, smashing my finger on the arm rest with her elbow. I wiggle it out from under her and curse, inspecting my finger for damage. The entire thing goes unnoticed by her, and I huff before shoving myself as far as I can towards the window. Wisps of dark clouds scamper past the small window, and I chant over and over to not look down.

This sucks.

It really, fucking sucks.

By the time we land, my hands are stiff and snow white from gripping my arm rests so hard. I don't bother waiting for Blake before going to our baggage claim. He didn't even give me a chance to explain myself, but if he wants to be apart from me, fine.

Two can play at that game.

There aren't a lot of people at baggage claim by the time I get down there, and I stare at the dark suitcases as they start brushing into view. The belt whines as bag after bag passes by at a snail's pace. My foot starts bouncing after a few minutes pass, my impatience getting the better of me.

I just want to get my luggage and get the fuck out of here. As far as I'm concerned, there's no reason for me to see Blake again until work on Monday. The man is infuriating. Yea, so I had Cade in my hotel room overnight. It's not like anything happened.

But he doesn't know that.

The voice in my head challenges me with a persuasive edge, and I brush it aside. Even if we had done something, it's not Blake's business anyway. Isn't he the one who just broke up with fagtoid Phil? It's not like we're together or some shit like that.

My prior guilt and trepidation begins to melt away to the heat of anger bubbling up inside me. A dark blue suitcase with a white stripe down the side comes into view, and with muscles taut with irritation, I hoist it off the belt.

If Blake is around, I don't see him. If he sees me, he doesn't try to stop me as I head out the doors of the airport and hail a cab. If my company wasn't good enough for him on the plane, than his isn't good enough for me on the drive home.

The cab driver gets out of the car and helps me put my bag in the trunk. When the two of us are back in the car, he turns around with a half-hearted smile.

"Where to?"

........................................

As well-played as I thought my idea was to travel home alone from the airport, it only makes things worse. The terrible flight manifests into a terrible weekend...and then an even worse first week back to work.

When another Monday rolls around, I have zero motivation to walk inside those doors at all. Blake's clinical kindness has down-graded to a state of indifference that even the most aloof people would find offensive.

It's not my imagination, either. I see the way people whisper when I walk past, their gossip circulating like wildfire how - in a matter of a few days - I fell out of Blake's good graces.

By the end of last week, I began to wonder if Blake noticed my presence at all. My eyes flicker to the time on the dashboard. With a heavy sigh I get out of my car, slamming the door shut behind me. A few other cars sprinkle the lot, but for the most part, it's a ghost town.

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