Page 2 of Word to the Wise

When one thing doesn’t work, try another.

Just don’t stop taking steps.

I hate that I can hear every one of my footsteps as I make my way to the couch and drop down onto it. There’s never anything good to watch, so I pause on whatever doesn’t seem terrible. It’s not like I’ll pay attention anyway. It’s just noise.

One thing I appreciated about Lyla living here was her crappy television shows. I’d complain about them because I refused to let her think that shit was entertaining—but it was. It gave me something to think about to keep me out of my head. We’d argue over who was going to pick who on whatever island dating show shewas binging, and I make a mental note to ask her how the finale ended.

Now it’s just me.

Sports I don’t care about.

Thin walls in the middle of winter.

A restless city filled with chaos.

I fucking hate it.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out.

Mandi

Heathens tonight?

She attaches a picture of her and her friend pouting their overinflated lips. And I’m tempted. But I lock the screen instead and set my phone aside.

Distractions aren’t working like they used to, and the thought of fucking Mandi or her friend—and her friend?—is exhausting.

I don’t even like her, which I’d feel bad about if she cared. But she’s using me to get back at her douchebag ex-boyfriend, so she’s no more invested than I am. Besides, that’s apparently what I’m good for.

Girls know better than to look to me for a relationship. They see one red flag after another. Baggage they don’t want to unpack and walls they don’t want to climb.

They don’t even know half of it, which is for the best.

So they use me like I use them. For company. For sex. For whatever the fuck emptiness we’re trying to fill on that day.

Anything so I don’t have to think about what I’m runningfrom.

Tipping my beer to my lips, I drink it down and let it settle in the cracks. I tip my head back and close my eyes to give the demons a sip so they shut the fuck up.

I seal my eyelids until I no longer see the faces on the other side of them. It’s just darkness.

Somewhere down the street a horn honks and sirens sound. It’s starting to rain, creating a soft tempo on the windowpane. The noise is comforting, and without it, I’d never get any sleep in this place.

My home in Vegas had thick walls, and it was fancy shit in the middle of nowhere. Back there, I didn’t mind the quiet because I was young and dumb and naïve.

That man’s gone now.

I’m halfway awake and halfway asleep when something rattles the gate at the bottom of the steps that lead up to the apartment. The front door’s thin, so I hear everything, and I clearly make out the sound of metal squeaking as it swings open and closed.

I’m pretty sure I locked it, and Sage and Lyla didn’t say they were coming by tonight, so there’s no one I’m expecting.

Standing up, I set down my beer and walk toward the front door to check it out.

I didn’t used to be so paranoid, but I’m not an idiot anymore. Eventually, shit catches up with you. I’ve got enough demons chasing me that one of them was bound to make it here eventually.

I’m almost at the front door when someone starts knocking on it. It’s quiet at first, but then they bang with both hands, frantically.

“Coming,” I yell.