Page 28 of Hamartia

He curses and then he’s banging around in the kitchen loud enough to rival the jet that’s just flown over the apartment. I haul myself upright with a groan and take a minute to assess my hangover. I think the joint helped, but there’s a tight, sick feeling in my stomach. Not sure if that’s entirely related to the alcohol and drug consumption though.

“Your coffee’s there,” Crawf says gruffly, pointing at it.

“Thanks, man.” It’s hot but not scalding, and sweetly bitter as I gulp it down.

Crawford can’t cook for shit—the guy burns toast—but since he worked at Starbucks through college, he makes the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had.

“Sam’s called us all in. Some ‘sensitive matter’ he wants to talk to us about in person.”

My whole body goes stiff, my cup stopping just shy of my mouth. I cough to clear my throat which feels thick all of a sudden. “What sort of sensitive matter?”

Crawf shrugs. “Not a clue. Did you do anything embarrassing last night?” He comes to sit across from me, grinning wide.

A cold lick of fear flattens against my spine.

“Me? Did you?” I deflect. “You were at Haven William’s teeny bopper party with a bag of Special K in your pocket.”

He doesn’t look in the slightest bit concerned. “Nah, we’re good. I dipped after about an hour—had a look for you but think you’d gone?”

“I was starving, man. Went to Frida’s and ate my bodyweight in Kung Pao and then sat on the beach for a bit thinking about the win. Then walked back here. You were passed out.”

He nods but eyes me, wary. I only sit on the beach when I’m in one of my moods. Which hasn’t been for a while now.

“Figured when I saw you passed out there. Cam’s gonna be pissed though? Wasn’t she flying out this morning?”

I nod. “This afternoon. But she’ll be cool. I think she figured I wouldn’t make it back.”

He gives me another of his looks. “Everything okay with you two?”

“Yeah, fine. Just…yeah.”

“Pre-wedding jitters?” he asks slurping a mouthful of his coffee.

If fucking only.

“Yeah, maybe man. Who knows.” I scrub a hand over my face to dislodge the sleep still lingering there. “So, Sam called you first?”

My mind flits back to last night and whether anyone might have spotted me and Jae together, whether anything we did could be considered ‘a sensitive matter’. I’m certain not. I’m also certain that this is not how Sam would do this if there were pictures of me on a fucking date with a male K-pop singer. In fact, there are no calls or texts from Sam this morning at all.

“Cleo, then me. When I told him you were here, he said to wake you up. You wanna grab a shower? Car’s gonna be here in ten.”

“Yeah, thanks man. You got anything of mine here?”

He nods and stands, gulping down the rest of his coffee as he does. “I’ll leave it by the door.”

While the shower steams up, I open Twitter. My heart in my chest as I check my name, then his, letting out a breath when I find nothing except pictures and videos from last night.

His performance is still trending. Our win and me thanking my mom made the rounds too. Some pictures of Cam and I on the carpet. There’s nothing else. It’s not about me.

I close the app and move to Instagram to do the same, but my eye is drawn to the numbers on the little paper plane. There are thousands of DM’s in there, thousands that I’ll never read, but his name is near the top and there’s a new message there. Sent 2 hours ago.

I stare at it a few minutes, the nervy tightness in my stomach growing more intense.

I hit on it. It’s a picture of the sunrise from what must be the balcony of his hotel room. A cityscape. The amber glow of the sun peeking between the silver and grey of downtown, bursts of early sunlight reflecting off the windows. There’s another message, sent ten minutes after the picture.

It says:Perhaps another friend would not be so bad.

I’m smiling so fucking wide when I step into Crawford’s scalding hot shower.