Atone (The Disciples 2)

“Look, I’m sorry. I’ll have to take a rain check.” When I’m about to hang up, she starts laughing—and bangs harder on my door.

What the hell? I sit up. “Are you kicking my door?”

“Yep.” She snorts and giggles as the banging continues. A “Shut the fuck up” comes from my upstairs neighbor. He’s an ass, but I’m not in the mood to get into it this morning. Reluctantly I grab a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from the clean hamper. I haven’t had time to fold and put the clothes away.

Unlatching the lock, I swing the front door open and almost cringe at the blinding sunlight from outside.

“Jesus.” I blink and shade my eyes. “Are you insane? Get in here.” I grab her arm and drag her in.

“Careful.” She pulls away. “I’ve got hot coffee and some scones.”

I peek outside and see my neighbor Shelia watering her two pots of geraniums. She’s eighty and has been living in this apartment building for years. Her husband died a while ago, so I kind of check up on her.

“Sorry, Shelia. I hope my friend”—I roll my eyes at the idea of Cindy being a friend—“didn’t wake you.”

She gifts me with her happy smile, which I love because again, the guy upstairs is a dick.

“It’s eleven thirty, my dear. I’m just happy to see you have a friend.” She claps her hands and goes back to watering.

“Well, she actually works for m—” Waving a hand, I say, “Never mind. I didn’t want her disturbing you.”

“She didn’t.” She smiles almost as if she’s lost in thought.

“Okay… bye.”

I frown as I shut the door and lock it. What the hell? Does everyone think I don’t have any friends? Because I do. They happen to live in other areas. In truth, I’ve been here almost four years and I’ve maybe had three or four people over to my apartment. My mom, my dad, and my stupid ex-boyfriend.

“Wow, not much of a morning person, huh?” Cindy brings me back to the present and the fact that she’s way too bubbly to be a friend. No one can be in this good of a mood this early.

“I didn’t get to sleep until almost four, so I’m fucking tired.”

I kind of yell it and kind of mumble it while I breeze past her to the bathroom. I need to use the toilet and take a shower. She’s obviously not taking no for an answer.

The hot water perks me up as I try to decide if I can stand to hang out with Cindy all day. Again, she’s so happy it’s kind of annoying, but that’s awful. When did I turn into a Debbie Downer? About a week ago, to be exact.

Asshole David. On an exhale, I get that excited surge of energy thinking about how nasty he is.

“Oh God,” I groan, chastising myself. I’m fucking twenty-six—way too old to have butterflies in my stomach.

But I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s a sex god with a giant penis. I’m kind of sad I’m not going to be able to measure it because it’s like porn star big. I smile as I shower in a hurry and hop out dripping wet to gaze at myself in the mirror.

My smile disappears. I look like an idiot. What is wrong with me?

David is nothing more than a crush who’s taken up residence in my mind. Now that we’ve fucked, I should feel done with him. He’s clearly not into me. But deep down it’s there, maybe buried, but it’s there: that secret want, need, that I know we’re meant to be together. Even when the universe keeps saying we’re not.

Slathering on some vanilla bean lotion, I brush my teeth and move to the walk-in closet. Well, I call it a walk-in. In reality, it’s a tiny closet, but at least I can step into it.

I love my apartment. It’s a large one bedroom in Studio City, walking distance from Ventura Boulevard. which makes it handy. And I have a fantastic landlord who lets me paint and do whatever I want to it.

“Cindy?” I yell. “I’m starving. What kind of scones did you get?”

I pull on my favorite pair of rag & bone jeans and a tight black T-shirt. I don’t even bother with a bra. One of the great things about having small boobs is I can get away without wearing one. Although I do have big nipples so maybe… whatever. I’m only getting my hair done.

I slip on a pair of black suede clogs and venture back into the main living space of the apartment.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Cindy, who has no problem making herself at home, has opened the curtains. The large living space, with a kitchen on one side and a dining/living room on the other, is filled with bright yellow sunlight.