Page 10 of Wrecked
Shaking my head, I look down at the alcohol I'm carrying and grit my teeth. It's just as well. It was stupid even to try and talk to her. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. She doesn't seem like someone you just fuck a couple of times and then move on from. I'm only good for the Brandys and the Mishas of this world, not for people like her.
Stuffing the twenty back into my pocket, I head toward the check-out to pay for my booze, then I go back to my place alone instead of following after her.
CHAPTER 5
JASMINE
The blaring sound of an alarm jolts me awake, and I shoot up into a sitting position, breathing heavily. I fall back onto my pillow with a groan when I realize it's just my phone alarm. Stretching out my arm, I blindly try to hit snooze on the screen. When it goes quiet, I roll onto my side and close my eyes again.
I'm so tired and could definitely do with some more sleep. I'd love nothing more than to just lay here in bed with the sun streaming through my window, drifting off and waking up whenever I feel like it. But I'm on-call today, and I need to get a few things done before I'm most likely called into the hospital again.
Puffing out a heavy breath, I roll over again and push my blankets off. Unfortunately, the peaceful snooze time I'd hoped for has already been chased away by my busy thoughts. I get to my feet and find a tank top and pajama pants to put on. I've always only ever slept in my underwear, even in the wintertime. Clothes just feel too restrictive under the covers and get twisted up, in my opinion.
I turn on my Keurig, pull out a mug, and then let out a yawn as the smell of coffee fills the air. Sounds of sirens and cars honking can be heard if you actually stop and listen for them. But most of the time, it's more like white noise for me. I think the quiet would be a more noticeable thing.
Once I down my first coffee, I do some tidying up around the place and then throw on a sweater and take a load of clothes to the laundry room, spending my time browsing the internet and looking over my friend's pictures on Facebook while I wait. Tanisha, my closest friend, had a baby a few weeks before I left, and it's amazing to see how much the little guy has grown in the past couple of months. His little afro and big, beautiful, near-black eyes fill the majority of my feed now, making me wish I could squish him. I send her a quick message, knowing that she probably won't reply for several hours since she's so busy, and then gather my stuff.
Just as I'm walking back into my apartment with my full basket of clean clothes, my cell phone rings from the pile of socks it's buried in. I smile like I do every time when I see the nameGraham Delaneyon the screen. My older brother insisted that we both have each other's full names on our phones so that if there was ever an accident, they would know that we're related. I imagine he hasJasmine Ellory Delaneyon his, not content with just my first and last name.
“Hey,” I answer, dropping the basket to the ground. “How's it going?”
“Good. Just thought I'd give you a call while I'm on my break. See how you're doing.”
I refill the same mug I used earlier with more coffee and hop up onto the kitchen counter. “I'm good,” I reply through another yawn. “Just tired.”
He lets out a puff of air. “That's because you work too much, Jaz. Someone your age shouldn't be working six and seven days a week. You should be going out and enjoying yourself a little. Maybe going on a date.”
I take another sip of my coffee and close my eyes. “Gray, like I've said before. I'm okay with working this much. I kind of have to at the moment, being one of the newer nurses on staff.” That's not entirely true. I made myself available this much and volunteered to be on-call to prove myself to everybody since I'm newer. Squeezing my phone between my shoulder and ear, I use my hands to roll up the sleeves of my sweater. “And what's with your obsession with me dating anyway?” I tease.
Scoffing, he answers, “I'm not obsessed with it.” Then, softening his voice, “You know I just want to see you happy. And not lonely.”
My chest constricts a little at his words. Not because I'm lonely, but because I know he really means it. He's cared for me like a parent would ever since our parents died nine years ago. We went and lived with our aunt and uncle, but he always took it upon himself to look after me. My aunt and uncle happily provided food and shelter, whereas Graham provided love and protection. It wasn't that they were bad caregivers, they just weren't expecting to have to take us in, and it took a long time for my aunt to get over her sister's death.
“I know,” I tell him quietly, taking my phone in my hand again. “But I'm not lonely. Anyway, what about you? Are you still seeing Marina?”
“Mariana,” he corrects like I knew he would. I may love him to death, but I'm still his little sister and enjoy messing with him sometimes. “And we're fine. All good. Same. Don't try to change the subject.”
My lips curve into a smile at his predictable reply, and I turn to look out at the bright sunny day through the window above my sink. Light catches on something, drawing my attention and my eyes drift to the unopened bottle of Prosecco on the opposite counter that the sun is reflecting off of, reminding me of the encounter from last night.
“I think I got hit on last night, but I'm not sure,” I blurt out.
I picture the guy with a dark wave of perfectly tousled hair. His silvery, gun-metal-colored eyes that were intense but also held a sparkle to them, like they promised some sort of wild ride. Then there was the little scar that cut through the end of one eyebrow. And a body packaged up in a dark jeans and Henley combo that hugged his body just right.
“What? What do you mean?” he asks, his interest piqued. “What happened?”
I skip the part about how I had just finished a fourteen-hour shift and how it was after one in the morning and continue with the rest. “Well, I saw this guy at the liquor store, and he asked me if I dropped some money.”
I hear what sounds like muffled chuckling coming through the line, and I realize how ridiculous that sounded out loud. Last night I could sense the guy looking at me while I was trying to choose the bestand cheapestbottle of my favorite drink. Had I not been half asleep, I would have been more receptive to his supposed advances, but I was so tired that I was barely thinking straight, and it hadn't been until I got home that I thought about it and realized that him speaking to me was an attempt at hitting on me. At least, I had thought that's what it was until now.
“I think you've definitely been out of the dating world for too long if you think that was being hit on.”
I roll my eyes and smirk at my reflection in the microwave window. “Yeah. Okay. It's been like three months, but whatever. So when are you coming to visit?”
“I'm not sure yet. But hopefully soon.”
I hop off the counter and put my now empty mug into the dishwasher. “Just make sure you give me enough time to request a day off.” I hear him let out a sigh, and I'm sure he's about to go on another rant about how I work too much once again, so I speak before he can. “I should actually get off the phone. I'm on-call today.”
“Alright, baby sis.”
