Page 10 of My Lovely Tragedy
It’s not until I’ve wrapped the towel around my waist and put myself in front of the sink that I notice the pile of clothes placed meticulously in the upper left corner. Each article is folded to perfection, each edge a crisp, straight line, perpendicular to the counter and the wall edges.
I eye the pile for a moment before knocking the back of my hand into it and sending the pile askew a few inches. Aharumphechoes in the bathroom even as my face heats with a feeling I can’t name. Something akin to embarrassment. But I’m not embarrassed. I have no reason to be. Even if I did knock around Tobias’s perfectly folded clothes so they weren’t so perfect.
Perfection bothers me. Annoys me, really.
It’s so… perfect.
I scoff.Real fucking creative, B.
Perfection leaves no room for improvement. For growth.
We all fuck up. Some worse than others—with me being on the worse end of that scale. Like… all the way at the bottom. Beneath where whale shit is piled on the ocean floor. But I’d still like to think I’m not incapable of working toward doing better.Being better.
The thought makes me scoff—a bitter, hateful sound ripped from my throat. I can pretend all I want, but I know I am who I am.
I hate my life and the fame it’s brought me. I hate who I’ve become and who I’ll always be.
And change, while inevitable, isn’t always the be-all and end-all. Some of us are just who we are, and that’s all there is to it. I accepted that long ago, and now I’m simply going through the motions, stuck in a life that’s more than I bargained for, but I can’t just give it up.
I can’t fail them… not after everything they’ve done for me. But I also don’t think I can do it anymore?—
“Brooklyn?”
“Jesus!” I start, hand slamming against my chest as my heart lurches into my throat.
“Mm.” There’s a hesitant pause. “I apologize for startling you. I wanted to let you know your food is getting cold.” Then, there’s the sound of retreating footsteps.
My eyes roll to the ceiling as I catch my breath. I’m standing naked in some stranger’s bathroom, his clothes beside me. The scent of his soap lingering on my skin and in my hair while he’s in the other room, cooking me food.
This is all so fucking strange.
* * *
“Wow,”I mumble through a mouthful of the best fucking omelet I’ve ever had. “This is fucking good.”
Tobias eyes me from across the L-shaped bar at the edge of the kitchen, where it meets the living area. His lips pull into a small smile as he cuts into his own and brings his fork to his mouth.
We eat in silence until our plates are empty and our coffee cups need refilling. He pours the steaming liquid into mine without a word, and I nod my thanks before dumping cream and sugar into it until I know the bitter tang is masked by the sweetener.
Tobias, of course, drinks his black. It just seems like a very him thing, even though I trulydon’t knowa thing about him.
“So…” I try once he clears the plates and begins washing them immediately. And I try not to make a face, I really do, but who the fuckisthis guy?
“Something the matter?” he asks, even though his back is to me, and he can’t see the weird looks I keep tossing him.
“You’re a strange guy.”
He laughs. “Yes, you’ve said that. In fact, I believe your exact words were‘strange nerdy guy.’”
I wince. “Sorry. I was drunk and?—”
“Don’t be; there’s no need for it. You were not wrong, in any case.”
“Oh?” I hint for more.
Tobias turns the water on and rinses the suds from the skillet he used. After he places it in the dish strainer, he turns around with a white towel between his hands. “Yes. I am strange. And nerdy,” he adds flippantly with dry amusement.
“And I’m crass. Even more so when I’m drunk.”
