kaden the irresistible | re-uploading in process

02 - KADEN THE IRRESISTIBLE

Anger surged at the assumption, the lack of her understanding of our real dynamics, but I swallowed it and forced a smile. "Oh, no. No, I can't," — because other than loathing my sister to the point of physical pain, — "I've got dog-walking all this week, but you have a nice time. I'll be here when you get back on Tuesday." I reeled her into another hug, and she kissed my cheek.

"Okay," she said, twisting the door knob, "I transferred some money to your bank account; call if you need more. I'll tell El you said hi. Love you. Don't hesitate to call me if you have any problems. Your medication refill comes today, so make sure you're here to sign for the package." She looked over at my dog and me. "All right. Bye, Dylan, and bye, Kit. Love both of you!"

With two bags in suitcases, she departed to the yellow taxi parked at the curb, and I followed her to toss her bag into the trunk. Barefoot, I stood in our yard and watched her as the vehicle pulled off. Once it disappeared down the street, I heaved a breath of relief.

I was dying to slip into my bed. Kaden and I's night ended sometime in the early hours, and there was no way I slept for more than two hours.

I laid on my clean, soft bed, and Kit jumped up right beside me, darting over to lick my cheek. I laughed and ruffled his fur. I plucked my phone off the charger and read over four new messages from Deena Rodriguez, the friend who drove me to the party but was too sh*tfaced to drive back home.

TXT MSG from deena (7:56AM) ok i am so sorry i fuckin forgot i drove u

(7:56AM) i just woke up n i feel like shiiiiit(7:56AM) r u at your house bc if i go home my landlord is going to hound me for rent $(7:57AM) can i pleaseeeee crash at urs until this hangover passes??

I typically avoided people from high school; most of them weren't real friends, anyway, but Deena was. We had been friends since freshman year until now, my second semester of college. In the earlier years, we never clicked, we said hi in passing but it wasn't until I stopped with the hardcore partying that we became close.

We weren't best friends, but there was the occasional texting and if there were events that tested my restraint, I always preferred to have her there. Deena was good moral support, regardless of not knowing why, and I wasn't up to divulging something that intimate.

Her coming over was fine. It wasn't like I was going to go out at some point. My muscles needed rest—though it was a nice pain—and I had to wait for a three-month refill of Prozac and other prescriptions. I quickly sent back a reply.

TXT MSG from me (8:14AM) sure, door's unlocked.

(8:14AM): could you unlock the doggy door when you come in

I wasn't sure how long it'd take her, but it turned out not long, arriving a few minutes under fifteen. In the meantime, I lounged with Kit and played a lazy game of fetch, with me tossing it somewhere out my door and him running to get it. When she pulled up, he hopped down, toy in mouth, and ran down the stairs.

"Hey, buddy," I heard her greet him, and he barked happily in response. It quieted, for I assumed she opened the doggy door. She then climbed the creaking stairs with heavy feet and appeared in my doorway with mascara smeared underneath her eyes where she announced,  "Holy shit, I feel like sh*t."

I laughed. "It looks like it."

She groaned, rubbing her under eye roughly. "F*ck, usually, I bounce back within hours, but those drinks at the party were next level. They had to have been illegal 'cause they were so good, but so strong. I thought I was just gonna take two cups, but then it was three, four, five. . ." As she spoke, she staggered to my bed and threw herself on the queen size, spreading out like a starfish. "I feel like sh*t. I think I almost hit a fire hydrant on my way here. I barely remember last night, but I'm pretty sure it's worth it."