Page 28 of Only ever you-Ana & Byron
"Not now," came the muffled response.
She knocked a third time.
This time the door yanked open so hard it nearly came off its hinges.
"What the fuck do you-"
He froze.
Ana stood there, arms crossed.
"Ana..."
Byron blinked at her, momentarily stunned. He was in just a pair of shorts. His skin was pale, his eyes ringed with dark circles. His shoulders slumped, defeated, and his hair was a mess of curls, flattened in some places, sticking out in others. The faint trail of hair on his chest dipped down into a V toward the waistband of his shorts.
His mouth opened slightly- and then he realised his state of undress. "Shit. Just... hang on."
Ana turned her head away as he shuffled around, pulling on a T-shirt and joggers in jerky, rushed movements. When she looked back, he was standing by the bed, rubbing his hands over his face.
She walked in and shut the door behind her.
"I've taken care of Cathy," she said abruptly after a moment of awkward silence. "She won't be bothering you anymore. If she does anything stupid or even thinks about threatening you, call me."
Byron blinked owlishly at her. "What... what did you do?"
"Nothing illegal," she said coolly. "Though I might be toeing the line with assault and criminal damage. But your contract's safe. That's all you need to know."
He sat down on the edge of the bed, looking like someone had knocked the air out of him. His hands came up, covered his face. His shoulders began to shake.
Ana watched. Her hand twitched, she wanted to place it on his shoulder, offer him comfort. But she didn't.
"Are you in withdrawal or something?" she asked, quieter now. "Do you need to detox? Get help or something?"
Byron looked up at her, his hazel eyes shining with unshed tears. "Why would you do this for me?"
"I didn't do it for you," Ana said. "I did it for Sylvia and your dad. Your dad helped my dad once, and now we're even. No more favours."
She turned, hand on the door, in a rush to go home.
"Ana," he said.
She stopped.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "So sorry."
She gave a short nod and stepped away, more than ready to leave.
Then, as if she couldn't help herself, she turned back.
"No. That's not enough."
He looked up, confused.
"I'm angry, Byron. You hurt me. I don't understand you anymore. How could you?" Her voice trembled in a rare show of vulnerability, her hands clenched into tight fists. "You used me. You lied. Let me think,God, I don't even know what I was thinking. You need to get your head on straight. No more drinking, no more smoking, no more... doping or whatever the hell you've been doing."
She exhaled, hard. "Because I'm not going to be here the next time. I'm not going to pick you up again. You won’t get too many second chances."
Byron's voice cracked. "Ana... can we…can we start over? Can you give me another chance to... I mean."
