The living room alone could fit three of the living rooms from Corbins last apartment. The dining area is open to the living room, but the kitchen is separated from the living room by a half-wall. There are several modern paintings throughout the room, and the thick, plush sofas are a light tan, offsetting the vibrant paintings. The last time I stayed with him, he had a futon, a beanbag chair, and posters of models on the walls.
I think my brother might finally be growing up.
Very impressive, Corbin, I say out loud as I walk from room to room and flip on all the lights, inspecting what has just become my temporary home. I kind of hate that its so nice. Itll make it harder to want to find my own place once I get enough money saved up.
I walk into the kitchen and open the refrigerator. Theres a row of condiments in the door, a box of leftover pizza on the middle shelf, and a completely empty gallon of milk still sitting on the top shelf.
Of course he doesnt have groceries. I cant have expected him to change completely.
I grab a bottled water and exit the kitchen to go search for the room Ill be living in for the next few months. There are two bedrooms, so I take the one that isnt Corbins and set my suitcase on top of the bed. I have about three more suitcases and at least six boxes down in the car, not to mention all my clothes on hangers, but Im not about to attempt those tonight. Corbin said hed be back in the morning, so Ill leave that to him.
I change into a pair of sweats and a tank top, then brush my teeth and get ready for bed. Normally, I would be nervous about the fact that theres a stranger in the same apartment Im in, but I have a feeling I dont need to worry. Corbin would never ask me to help someone he felt might be a threat to me in any way. Which confuses me, because if this is common behavior for Miles, Im surprised Corbin asked me to bring him inside.
Corbin has never trusted guys with me, and I blame Blake for that. He was my first serious boyfriend when I was fifteen, and he was Corbins best friend. Blake was seventeen, and I had a huge crush on him for months. Of course, my friends and I had huge crushes on most of Corbins friends, simply because they were older than we were.
Blake would come over most weekends to stay the night with Corbin, and we always seemed to find a way to spend time together when Corbin wasnt paying attention. One thing led to another, and after several weekends of sneaking around, Blake told me he wanted to make our relationship official. The problem Blake didnt foresee was how Corbin would react once Blake broke my heart.
And boy, did he break it. As much as a fifteen-year-old heart can be broken after the span of a two-week secret relationship. Turned out he was officially dating quite a few girls during the two weeks he was with me. Once Corbin found out, their friendship was over, and all of Corbins friends were warned not to come near me. I found it almost impossible to date in high school until after Corbin finally moved away. Even then, though, the guys had heard horror stories and tended to steer clear of Corbins little sister.
As much as I hated it then, I would more than welcome it now. Ive had my fair share of relationships go wrong since high school. I lived with my most recent boyfriend for more than a year before we realized we wanted two separate things out of life. He wanted me home. I wanted a career.
So now Im here. Pursuing my masters degree in nursing and doing whatever I can to avoid relationships. Maybe living with Corbin wont be such a bad thing after all.
I head back to the living room to turn out the lights, but when Ive rounded the corner, I come to an immediate halt.
Not only is Miles up off the floor, but hes in the kitchen, with his head pressed against his arms and his arms folded on top of the kitchen counter. Hes seated on the edge of a bar stool, and he looks as if hes about to fall off it any second. I cant tell if hes sleeping again or just attempting to recover.
Miles?
He doesnt move when I call his name, so I walk toward him and gently lay my hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. The second my fingers squeeze his shoulder, he gasps and sits up straight as if I just woke him from the middle of a dream.
Or a nightmare.
Immediately, he slides off the stool and onto very unstable legs. He begins to sway, so I throw his arm over my shoulder and try to walk him out of the kitchen.
Lets go to the couch, buddy.
He drops his forehead to the side of my head and stumbles along with me, making it even harder to hold him up. My name isnt Buddy, he slurs. Its Miles.
We make it to the front of the couch, and I start to peel him off me. Okay, Miles. Whoever you are. Just go to sleep.
He falls onto the couch, but he doesnt let go of my shoulders. I fall with him and immediately attempt to pull away.
Rachel, dont, he begs, grabbing me by the arm, trying to pull me to the couch with him.
My name isnt Rachel, I say, freeing myself from his iron grip. Its Tate. I dont know why I clarify what my name is, because its not likely hell remember this conversation tomorrow. I walk to where the throw pillow is and pick it up off the floor.
I pause before handing it back to him, because hes on his side now, and his face is pressed into the couch cushion. Hes gripping the couch so tightly his knuckles are white. At first, I think hes about to get sick, but then I realize how incredibly wrong I am.
Hes not sick.
Hes crying.
Hard.
So hard he isnt even making a sound.
I dont even know the guy, but the obvious devastation hes experiencing is difficult to witness. I look down the hallway and back to him, wondering if I should leave him alone in order to give him privacy. The last thing I want to do is get tangled up in someones issues. Ive successfully avoided most forms of drama in my circle of friends up to this point, and I sure as hell dont want to start now. My first instinct is to walk away, but for some reason, I find myself oddly sympathetic toward him. His pain actually appears genuine and not just the result of an overconsumption of alcohol.