Page 20 of Pieces of Us

‘Love you. See you soon!’ I make a series of kissing noises before hanging up.

Chapter 10

Fight My Regret

Linc, 24—Now

I grunt in frustration as I pound the keyboard, trying to make this new architecture software work. It’s the third time it has frozen this morning. After uninstalling and installing it twice, I’m still having no luck.

Giving up and accepting defeat, I call our IT team to take over. I’m officially wiping my hands clean of this tech issue.

Two Dads Just Want To Draw And Build has been my life for the past six years. I interned here straight after school and all throughout uni, where I graduated with a Master’s in Architecture and Environments.

It was a no-brainer that I’d work here under my Dad and Uncle Mark.

When I lost Amity, I also lost my second dad.

At the beginning, things were tense with Uncle Mark, but for the sake of professionalism, we pushed through and have a mutual understanding that we won’t talk about Amity or what happened in the past. Since starting here full-time, I’ve seen a hell of a lot more of Uncle Mark, but we’ve managed to find a new normal. It’s like we’re getting to know each other all over again, which is comforting.

The sprawling office is chic, decked out with the latest designs, innovations and building materials. Dad makes sure the latest designs are showcased, regularly renovating bits and pieces for clients. In their latest renovation, the small team of architects were given offices that we could design ourselves.

While the entire building is sheer sophistication, it is also a millennial and Gen Z’s dream. There is a gaming room with a fully stocked bar, a pool table, putt putt course, video game set-up and of course, carnival food. It’s basically a big men’s shed, but they’ve also managed to cater for women too, with a relaxing spa station and lounge area where they can kick their feet up and indulge in a frappe or mocktail of their choosing. Of course, it’s also a parent’s dream, with a daycare on the bottom floor and flexible working hours.

After sorting through the IT issues, my brain is fried, and there is no point in continuing the current project I’m working on. Swaying my chair from side to side, I’m bubbling with frenetic energy. I don’t want to leave, but there’s no use wasting time if I’m not going to be productive. Contemplating my departure, my mood sullens further when I see the framed serviette of the rough drawing I did of mine and Amity’s future home, sketched all those years ago. I’m a glutton for punishment. I put it there to remind me of my hopes and dreams of becoming an architect, but it’s also a constant reminder to be better after what I did to her. To us.

Not wanting to stay here a moment more, I snatch my blazer and phone, realising Dad sent me a text almost an hour ago.

Dad: Mate, can you swing past mine tonight?

Need to chat.

It isn’t unusual that I swing past Dad’s or even spend the night, even though I have my own apartment. What is odd is the fact that he texted me that we needed to talk. A prick of awareness skits down my spine the longer I look at the ambiguous message. I rub the shiver creeping up my neck, hoping it’s just the day’s work tension that has me so highly strung.

After flicking back a text that I’ll be there soon, I lock my door and wave goodbye to whomever is in the open space, one of them being my ex-girlfriend, Billie. It’s unbelievable that she is temping here.

We broke up a year or so after graduation, when I discovered that she was the one who began the fat-shaming rumours about Amity. I walked in on her and her friends laughing about it—most likely out of jealousy, since they were watching Amity on E! Even though she apologised profusely, the damage was done. Her sweet facade was shattered forever. I thought I was falling for Billie, but the truth was that what we shared was nothing compared to my feelings for Amity. Nothing and no one ever would or could stack up.

Our past is complicated, a vine of thorns and roses.

Despite our breakup, we still remain in each other’s lives, still have mutual friends and somehow always orbit around each other. She apologised about her childish behaviour and I accepted, but it still didn’t fix us. For years, I’d thought she was sweet, but that sour side of her left a bad taste in my mouth. Unfortunately, when I’m lonely, I tend to make monumental fuck ups, many of those times being when I was stupid enough to fuck and fall into bed with her again. I blame it on my drunken and weakened state, but truthfully, it is to escape the loneliness. I need a warm body to get lost in. The last time we hooked up was a couple of weeks ago, when I saw Amity out with that NFL asshole, Jagger. She was with the cast of Euphoria at some club, and he was her guest. Seemed like he was everywhere she was. Blind envy led me to Billie’s bed.

If she could fuck someone else, then so could I.

As I press the ignition on in my car, my phone connects to Bluetooth and my Apple Music starts blaring randomly. My ears are assaulted with Panic! At The Disco’s ‘Lying Is The Most Fun You Can Have Without Taking Your Clothes Off’, and I’m irrationally mad. Swearing, I violently stab the next button on my steering wheel to change the song. My heart slows when Machine Gun Kelly starts playing.

Funny, I used to love Panic! At The Disco. It was one of Amity and I’s favourite bands. Now I can’t stand listening to them anymore, especially after she made a reel on her Tik Tok years ago, lip syncing to that song in her bra and undies. With the band. On stage.

As I make my way to Dad’s, I find myself nervously tapping on the steering wheel. I’m still feeling off. There should be no reason for me to feel uneasy. I have a good career ahead of me and made amends with most of the people I hurt in the past. Unfortunately for me, the few friends who sided with Amity never did forgive me, but I am at peace with that.

Turning into Dad’s driveway, I banish this ominous feeling, focusing on all the great things that are ahead.

‘Dad?’ I call, closing the front door behind me, removing my blazer and tossing it in the coat closet.

‘Here!’ he shouts.

I approach the kitchen, frowning when I see both Dad and Jas sitting at the bar. Jas has a giddy, suspicious look on her face, while Dad is more wary and watchful of me.

‘What have I done?’ I joke, trying to lighten his mood. I kiss Jas’ head before walking past her to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. No one says anything as I unscrew the cap, take a swig and sit down on one of the stools.

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