Page 87 of Deeper

The shrill sound of my phone ringing paused my hysteria if only for a moment. Zander was calling me back.

“Zander—”

“What’s your apartment number?” he interrupted.

“W-What?”

“I’m on my way over.”

My hand covered my face as all I felt was shame. “Please…don’t.”

“Bianka.” I heard him swear on his end as a car door shut in the background. “Something’s wrong. Just tell me which apartment is yours.”

There was no fighting him. “First floor, 1D.”

I piled myself on the couch and froze, my breathing nearly echoing in my ears as I tried to slip into a comforted state of denial. If I didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t be real. If it wasn’t real, it wouldn’t hurt. If it didn’t hurt, my lungs wouldn’t feel like they were about to burst. My heart would beat lightly and my nerves wouldn’t have me antsy.

When I heard the sound of knocking on my door sometime later, I knew it was Zander. I could barely bring myself to answer it as I sluggishly got up and crossed the room.

What was left of my dignity fell to my feet as I pulled the door open and realized before it was too late what I had done. From The Residence Hotel, to his own private estate, Zander lived in and was used to the lap of luxury. My building and my space were far below adequate. In my tiny kitchen, I didn’t even have a counter. There wasn’t room for an official dining room table either, just the small table I’d built with my father after getting it from Target. Even then, there was hardly any room due to my microwave.

I had never felt so poor and pathetic in my life.

Zander didn’t seem to outright notice or care as he stood in my doorway, adorn in all black. He was too busy studying me, checking for injuries or error.

“You changed your hair,” he said in the end.

My hair. The only nice thing about me now.

“Can I come in?” Zander asked gently.

Could he come in? To see firsthand the sad state of my life?

“No.” I started to close the door, and the sad look on Zander’s face tore me apart. The wounded hurt in his dark eyes sliced me open. He’d come all this way because he cared.

“I heard about the notice,” he let me know. “I get what’s going on. There’re some tenants outside smoking and talking about it.”

Embarrassment caused my shoulders to sag. “Please.”

Without asking, Zander stepped forth and hugged me, but I refused to break.

Somehow, we ended up in my apartment with the door closed and there was no hiding who I was and where I lived. My place wasn’t a mess or nasty by any means, but there was only so much polishing you could do with a dud of my four very small walls of a home. I never felt shame whenever Victoria came over, even though she had a much nicer home, but something about Zander had me wanting to wave my arms about, as if to distract him from seeing where I lived.

Zander didn’t look around long before focusing his attention on me. “Bianka, talk to me.”

“About what?”

Zander heaved a sigh. “About the eviction notice and what happens now.”

He was only asking because he cared, because he wanted to know if I’d be okay, but I wouldn’t, and there was nowhere to go from here.

I hung my head and shrugged my shoulders.

“Bianka.” His tone was soft, cautious, as if I were fragile. But you can’t break what’s already broken. “What are you going to do?”

What was there to do with just sixty days but panic?

“Bianka, please. I’m here,” he begged when I didn’t respond.

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