Reap What You Sow 🌈

Chapter 4

Eighteen months later

Emilio cursed as he looked down the window and saw all his belongings scattered across the street. His clothes were spread across the pavement; a man and his dog walking over it and looking up in surprise. Emilio flipped him the finger before he returned his gaze to his stuff. His laptop was among it, undoubtedly broken, his DVD's and games — it looked like she'd held a fucking box upside down. How the fuck had he been able to sleep through this? He must have been in a fucking coma. He rubbed his face. His head was pounding; he had a hell of a hangover. He didn't remember much of last night. He walked over to the closet, which turned out to be empty. Of course it was; the contents were on the street. This was just fucking great. Well — then he would go downstairs naked.

The stairs were cracking as he descended them, his head threatening to burst with every step he took. First to the fridge. Taking a beer from it, he took a few sips.

"Seriously?!" Amanda yelled. "You come down bare-assed just to drink beer? What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole? Get the fuck out of my house!"

She was crying.

He squeezed his eyes; her shrill voice was torture, and finished his drink.

"What the fuck is goin' on? Why is all my stuff outside?"

"Because you ignored me this morning! I found a thong that wasn't mine in the room, confronted you with it and all you said was that I was being dramatic!"

Emilio shrugged his shoulders. He couldn't remember he had said anything to her this morning, but he assumed she wasn't making things up.

"How long is this going on, Emilio? How long are you cheating on me? During all my night shifts?"

"Sorry," he said. Usually admitting that he had treated her wrong was the easiest.

"Sorry?!" she yelled. "You think I care about your sorry? It's over, Emilio! Get out of my house, I never wanna see your shitty face again!"

Sighing, he rubbed his brow. That damned headache. "You don't have to yell," he mumbled. "I'm not deaf. Let me grab some breakfast, then I'll go."

"No! You leave now!" She grabbed his arm, yanking it. She however was small and he shoved her aside, whereafter he laid some slices of bread on a plate and opened the fridge to see if there were eggs and bacon.

"Calm down, Amanda. I'll be gone in a few minutes, stop being such a drama queen. Those ten minutes won't kill you." He turned towards her. "And bring back my clothes. Unless you want to enjoy the view a little longer." He moved his eyebrows up and down.

She gave him a death stare, turned around and rushed upstairs.

"Okay, I guess we won't have make-up sex this time." He put the frying pan on the stove and beat the eggs into it.

After finishing breakfast he headed to the front door to grab his clothes before some dumb ass would steal them. He ignored the people that were staring at him; for most of them, this view was going to be the best thing they would see this month. He didn't plan to come back anyway.

Where he would go, he didn't know all too well. His main reason to move in with Amanda had been because his parents had kicked him out and he hadn't been too eager to sleep under a bridge. This thing with Amanda had been nothing but a row of one-night stands, and he couldn't care less that it was over now.

He however did need a place to sleep. And actually, he could think of only one person he could always go to.

. . .