In my mind, he only deserves the best.
With thoughts of Evan, though, come thoughts of Owen. As I quickly type and enter data, I wonder how he’s doing and if he’s adjusting okay. I can still see the absolute fear on his face and the sadness of knowing his brother was hurting. While I know it’s been almost a month since Evan left, I’m sure Owen’s pain is still there. His play on the ice is superb, but his interviews make me nervous. It’s obvious he misses his brother. I’ve even thought of reaching out to check on him, but since I haven’t talked to or seen him since that night after the gym, I feel that may be weird. I almost suggested to the doctor that we bring Owen in for a check-in just to make sure he’s okay. I didn’t, though, for the simple fact that it isn’t my business. Owen and I aren’t friends, and my job was to help his brother. I did, so I don’t know why I can’t shake the thoughts of Owen. I really want him to come in to see if he’ll flirt with me again because I’m unsure if he did or not. A huge part of me wants to think he did, but the smart part of me is like, there is no way.
Maybe he got hit in the head on the ice?
Or I truly was dehydrated.
I’ve upped my water intake to make sure that doesn’t happen again.
I’m so engrossed in my work, I don’t hear the door open to the lab or even when London comes up beside me. I jump when I notice her. “Jesus.”
She grins, her eyes bright and happy. Like always. It has to be nice to never overthink or be worried over anything. To just walk around happy and ready to take on the world.
“Sorry. How much longer you got?”
“Maybe an hour? I’ve got two more reports.”
She makes a face. “I ordered some Chinese, and Leroy ordered a movie. We were going to wait for you.”
Yup, hard pass. “You’re too sweet. I’ve got so much to do, and I’m exhausted. Don’t wait for me. Enjoy your night.”
She eyes me. “You haven’t been hanging with Leroy and me lately. Everything okay?”
No, actually. Your boyfriend is a fat-phobic ass-fuck, and I wish I could suffocate him with my ass cheeks. I wave her off since she is my boss and, basically, my landlord. I really didn’t think this through by putting all my eggs in her basket. But then again, I didn’t know she was dating an asshole. “Just been insanely busy and focusing on me.”
She moves her hair out of her eyes. “I’ve noticed. You’re working really hard.”
“I’ve got goals.”
“Which is why I adore you,” she says, rubbing my arm. “Don’t overwork.”
“Can’t say I won’t,” I call to her as she retreats from the lab. I let my shoulders fall because now I don’t want to go home. I won’t be able to go to my room without being guilt-tripped into hanging out in the living room with her and Leroy. I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place, and I’m seriously considering going back to the dorms. Though, I doubt I’ll be able to get anything this late. Ugh, the stress. Maybe I should find my own place. But then I’ll really need to get a job. Or tell my mother I’m fat and beg her to pay for my place. I mean, I wouldn’t have to beg, and she’d insist I’m not fat. She’d probably come here and smack me too.
Ugh. The. Stress.
I fall back into my work, but unfortunately, I’m done in twenty minutes. I pack up my stuff as slowly as I can and gather my things. But it still doesn’t take long enough for Leroy to leave the house or fall off the face of the earth. When my stomach growls, I realize that I’m starving and the iced coffee I had this morning wasn’t a sufficient breakfast. I head toward my car and decide to go to a sports pub downtown. They have the best fried pickles. Usually, fried pickles are chips, but these are spears. My favorite. When I put my phone in the holder, my mom’s texts taunt me. I hadn’t even noticed another one had come in.
Mom: If you don’t start communicating with me more, Angela Lynn, I will come find you.
That’s not scary at all.
I roll my eyes as I go to hit her name without much thought, but then I pause. I’m feeling lonely. I don’t really have friends here, and the one I do have is attached to a jackass who fat shames me. If I call my mom, she’ll ask questions I’m not ready for. She’ll want answers I don’t have. And more than likely, she’ll want to see me, and I’m absolutely not ready for that. I blow out a breath, closing my eyes. I know good and well my mom loves me, no matter what. I know that, so why is it so hard to accept that I’m fine the way I am? Why am I putting all this pressure on myself? I sit here and urge players not to do the very thing I’m doing.