Page 13 of Edged
“I told him we’d pick him up on the way.” Barclay jangled his keys and kicked me in the shin. “Get up. Let’s get going.”
I didn’t want to get up or get going, even though that had been the plan the whole time. What I’d hoped to make happen was canceling our plans altogether, but the talk of Val had apparently backfired. Instead of lulling Barclay into a quiet, homebound conversation, he was roaring and ready to go to Rapture like we’d planned all along.
“I might just stay home,” I told him, standing up and stretching so far my shoulder popped.
“You can’t stay home.”
“I can do anything I want,” I reminded him.
“You’re coming out,” he said.
“I don’t want to play.”
“You can watch.”
“Exhibitionist,” I accused.
He waggled his eyebrows at me, and I sighed in defeat, knowing there was no way for me to get out of our trip to the club. I didn’t want to play. I didn’t want to watch. I didn’t even really want to drink. I was tired down to the marrow of my bones, and I had been for the entire week. Work had been grueling, keeping me out longer during the day than I preferred, and even causing me to miss our standing Thursday whiskey night.
There was no real explanation for the shift in my mood, though, other than late nights had pushed me past exhaustion and into a miserable state of consciousness that no one should have ever had to experience. Most nights, I’d been up until the sunrise, barely getting two hours of sleep before having to get going and start the day. Out of the lot of my friends, Rob and Dalton both seemed to pick up on the fact I wasn’t my usual self, but neither of them pushed me to talk about it. I’d been going through the motions like a ghost, it felt like sometimes, signing contracts and holding meetings that I had absolutely no recollection of as soon as they passed. Time had blurred into one long and frankly miserable day.
“If you want me to come out tonight, I need to shower first,” I said, bartering and trying to buy myself some time.
“You certainly do not. We’re already going to be the last ones there.”
“Go get Dalton, then come back for me.”
“If I leave this house without you, you won’t leave.” He narrowed his eyes, seeing right through my game.
“I know.”
“Go wash your face and grab a snack to kick start your blood sugar.” He had the audacity to wave me offin my own home. “I’ll wait for you in the car, and if I have to wait longer than five minutes, I’m going to come back and drag you out of here kicking and screaming.”
“Just save yourself the trip,” I muttered, pushing up off the couch and heading toward my bathroom. “I don’t even need five minutes.”
The light in the bathroom was unfairly harsh, I wagered, so I kept it off while splashing myself down with some cold water. As the youngest of all my friends, it generally did wonders for my ego, but even behind them by decades, I was still right on the brink of thirty and the wrinkles forming around my eyes confirmed it. Leaning over the sink, I smiled, using my fingers to spread the fine lines flat with a quiet curse. The lines were the least of my worries, though. The bags under my eyes a whole monstrosity on their own.
“That’s enough water!” Barclay shouted from the couch.
“It’s just a couple hours,” I promised myself, returning to the living room with a sour look on my face.
“You’re going to scare away the men,” he groaned, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Go eat.”
Much like my sleep schedule, my appetite had gone off kilter too. It wasn’t the worst news for my waistline, but I figured it had definitely contributed to the energy issues of the past week. I was on a timetable, though, so with the promise to myself of a salad the next day, I grabbed a can of EZ Cheese from the fridge.
“Not that,” Barclay protested as I popped the cap off and turned the can upside down.
I locked eyes with him and pushed down on the nozzle, a slightly hard and definitely cold stream of processed cheese product swirling out onto my waiting tongue.
“That’s disgusting,” he said, and I smiled at him, finishing off the pile before swallowing it down with a flourish.
“It’s a comfort food,” I said.
“I wish you were less comfortable.”
I recapped the cheese and put the can back into the fridge.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
