Hating the Guy at the End...

Chapter Twenty-Two: 'Asshole' spray painted in pink

"You better, Paul is getting really old and losing his patience."

"Thanks for saving my ass back there, how can I repay you?"

Gretchen tapped her chin while thinking, "Nothing, you don't have to do anything." She finally came up with an answer.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am, what would a friend be if they expect you to repay them for every little thing."

I sighed in relief, "Seriously, I have to do something. How about we go out for lunch tomorrow, I'll pay."

"How can I say no to food?"

"Great, get home safely." I pulled her into a tight hug that she had no problem in returning. We split off to go home, well she had to go on a train before getting home, while I just walked a couple of blocks up the hill. While coming close to Samuel's building, I sent him a quick text that I'm coming in. He was most likely sleep, which explains the reason why he didn't answer back by time I reached the heavy metal door of his apartment.

Using the complicated process of trying to figure out which key goes into where, I finally slide the door open to only be hit by heavy rock music blasting in the large apartment. It immediately hurt my eyes and frightened the hell out of me as I tried to get the door close before his neighbor file a noise complaint. No wonder he didn't text me back, he didn't here his phone over this loud music- along with the fact I didn't see him in the living room drinking himself to death.

Grabbing the remote that controls the stereo and tv, I turned off the system to be surrounded by soothing silence. "Samuel," I called out his name to get nothing but more unstable silence. I walked into the bedroom to see the reason why he didn't answer back or didn't put any effort in answering.

His back was moist, glistening under the dim lighting of the one single lamp he dared to have on, muscles flexed, silk pajama pants hung low on his waist, ankles crossed- on each pull up he groaned lightly. Samuel used a low hanging thick wooden plank to do his work out on, not once did it move nor did he fall. However, he did drop down into a perfect landing before turning to me to acknowledge my presence, chest falling heavy on every exhale, I could feel his body heat from the door, and his hair was damp and slicked back with that one strain that wanted to rebel.

"I thought you were in a liquor coma or something." I stated as a large ounce of my worry dissolved.

"No, just exercising."

"It's two in the morning."

"Yeah, and?" He wipes his sweat away with a hand towel before lazily tossing that behind him onto the floor. "I'm pissed Joy."

"I know, Sam. I'm not disagreeing with you working out instead of drinking, but I don't want you to be so wrapped on the car. It's a material aspect, you can always get another one just like that." I walked further into the room to set my sweater and purse down. "What were you going to say to me before everything?"

Samuel rubbed his chin before shaking his head, "Nothing," He mumbled before walking into the bathroom to take a quick shower first.

*****

"I like this place, they serve the best grilled cheese in the city." Gretchen was eager to go out with me, it's something about hanging out with your co-worker to a place that doesn't relate to work. For instance, I found out she's a big fan of films and action movies, along with the fact she lives with her mother in Brooklyn- who just received her green card just a month ago after moving from Chile to New York thirty years ago.

The place we went to was half way from our apartments, a small diner that's apparently famous for their sandwiches. We sat in the back, away from the loud chatter and busy line; I wasn't exactly feeling the mass space, especially after what happened last night. Although, I was highly upset and worried more about Samuel than the fact Diana is still doing this bullshit, I still put on a bright smile. "Maybe I'll get that."