Chapter 18: Lungs

My eyes were leveled and heavy from the bags underneath my eyes. The cocky intruder took a few strides toward me–a wicked grin still on his face.

"You were right about moving from one... unappealing place to the next," he commented, taking another look around to which my response was a slow blink.

"Do you like the new furnishings?" he added, his smile growing larger.

I still had nothing to say. I wasn't sure what would make more sense first. Do I scream and then explain or explain and then scream?

Either way... it looked like being taken to court was going to be in the ending.

His head tilted down and he taunted, "Ms. Young, do you have anything to say? Such as 'thank you'?"

Immediately, my head turned to Kyle.

The chauffeur stuttered, as he looked between the two of us, "Mr. Leoné, I... I believe you have a meeting that commences back at the board room in thirty minutes."

"Kyle, I'm aware of my schedule. Any particular reason you've suddenly reminded me?" his boss, kindly asked.

"No, sir. I'm sorry," he said, gulping from apprehension– his eyes locked on me.

Mr. Leoné turned his head and gave him a warm smile. Leoné turned back and resumed his smug appearances for me.

"If my apartment..." I paused to take another deep breath. "... is already furnished... then where is the furniture in the truck going?"

"Well, Ms. Young, that was a decision I was going to leave up to you?"

Oh, really?!

He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged, "They can go to donations, a storage unit, or where I prefer... a landfill."

I cocked my jaw and tilted my head back. "Are you serious?"

"I'm very serious," he smiled. "I'm sure that these–"

I interrupted him and mimicked his warm expression, "No. I mean... are you seriously letting me make a decision over something that belongs to me? Is it December? Because you are in such a giving spirit. I shant complain from here on out! First it begins with being able to choose what I can eat for lunch. Adventurous Ada choosing the grilled chicken wrap, how dare! And now I get to choose if I can keep the possessions that always belonged to me? Good God, I've won the lottery today!"

The smile never left his face as he slightly turned his head to say, "Kyle, could you give me a moment with Ms. Young?"

"Is that a good idea, sir?" Kyle gravely whispered.

His boss quietly laughed and confirmed with a nod. Kyle's first instinct was to hand the kitten in his hands over to me, but then he immediately caught himself and put her in her cage before quickly dismissing himself.

Once the door closed, I immediately rushed to the couch and pointed."If you don't remove yourself and this shit–"

"– and this shit!" I went on pointing to the TV on the wall. "And all this other bullshit that doesn't belong to me..."

He chuckled, "Why?"

"Did I not just use English?" I quietly scoffed to no one.

His eyes rolled up toward the ceiling, "Ms. Young I'm waiting to hear your gratitude."

I immediately took a step back and gasped, "Oh my God... I got it."

His smiled faded and one brow lifted.

"Can I ask you a serious question?" I asked with an alarmed appearance.

"Of course," he sighed, and it was obvious he was gritting his teeth with annoyance.

'Of course'? What?

I could feel the bags underneath my eyes as I began, "Are you an adrenaline junkie?"

"No," he immediately answered.

"Are you a sadist?" I muttered.

His eyes leveled even more, "No."

My lip quivered. "A... a masochist?"

"No," he sighed, clearly unimpressed with the row of questions.

Suddenly removing my faux frightened facade, I shouted, "Then why the hell do you like to be in the presence of people who want to scream at you all the time?!"

"It's entertaining," he admitted smiling from ear to ear.

"So you are a sadist and a liar," I confirmed.

"No," he repeated again.

"Then why are you this way?!" I pleaded. "Why won't you leave me alone?!"

I immediately put my hand on my hip and pinched my nose with the other.

"Ada," he began softly.

His confident smirk disappeared. Surveying my face, he began to take a step closer.

But I pointed for him to stay right where he was. "Stop. Don't come near me. I want you to go away... right now."

The face he held was a little ghostly after my last demand. But then his eyes were glued to the ground, when he quietly asked, "What did you say?"

"I said go away!" I tearfully shrilled.

A pair of blank green eyes slowly rose to fixate on me, and I whispered, "Leave."

And like that, he was slowly turning away and gripping the knob to my front door. When he was gone, I pulled the collar of my old tee over my face and finally let it out. Maybe if I opened my eyes again, all of this shit will have been another horribly lucid nightmare. But no. The piece-of-shit-with-expensive-and-unwanted-furniture-apartment was still surrounding me.

The sudden, but quiet, knock at my door had me had my yanking open the front door in a blinding rage. However, I had to put it aside at the sight of an innocent man.

Kyle returned an uncomfortable wave, before stating, "Ms. Young, I've been assigned to make sure that your boxes are all in order before I depart."

I nodded once and turned to grab Cinna Buns' cage. With my silent approval, Kyle turned on his heels and hurried out of the open door. Quickly, I locked myself in the tiny bathroom and sat on the closed toilet. Letting her free, Cinna Buns preferred to explore the bathtub while I violently wiped my face with toilet paper and blew my nose.

Why the hell was I crying again? Oh, probably because I instantly fired myself and just moved into a place I can no longer afford to pay.

Yanking out my phone from my back pocket, I scrolled through my email and cried, "Please, please tell me someone else looked at my resumé."

There was nothing new waiting for me, and I continued to die a little on the inside. Twenty minutes had passed and I heard a feeble knock on my bathroom door.

"Yes?" I groaned.

"Ms. Young, this is Kyle. The movers have completed their task. We will all be on our way now," he said with a positive tone.

"Thank you," I whimpered, and it took a few seconds before I could hear his fancy shoes echoing into the distance.

There wasn't a bone in me that wanted to exit the bathroom and still see all of that unwarranted expensive shit. But I had to. I had to walk out and look at every insult that filled the dingy apartment air with leather aromas and recently unpackaged goods.

"I'm going to let you out. Don't destroy anything... at least not yet," I sadly coached to Cinna Buns who was ready to exit the bathroom.

She scampered out before slowly prowling around the foreign floor. I crossed my arms and looked at her deeply eyeing and sniffing the furniture. Rubbing against the dark triple seater, she kept up her agenda driven by nature. Who would have figured that a small kitten would have made my stomach turn. But that was just it.

It was her instinct... to mark her territory.

The thought made me sick. How was I a threat to him?

Wait, I'm shooting too far.

Am I even a threat in the first place? Why has he gone through all of this trouble to drive me out of my mind? Whatever his agenda, if his goal is to make me want to give him several kicks in the balls... it's working.

Fucking masochist.

My stomach rumbled and I placed my hand over it. I wanted to grab my purse and walk down the street to the nearest grocery store, so I snatched up my extra heavy bag.

But I didn't go anywhere, because the little Birman wasn't the only one with instincts.

With caution, I gravitated to the refrigerator and tugged on the handle.

Over the next few minutes, I was angrily throwing away fresh ingredients for an arugula salad in a trash bag. The leafy greens, the dressing. He can go straight to Hell.

As I exited the complex, I was even more appalled by the fact that I could see the tall building where that man was probably frollicking around and tossing leafy greens and utensils around in his office in a whirl of success for pissing me off.

Great. I've stepped outside and I surely look a complete mess. My curls were probably standing in every direction and my loose puff was hanging off the the right. This worn tee was a few washes away from becoming a tattered rag and these jeans were ten-thousand steps away from a crotch blowout. Normally, I wouldn't have cared... until I saw that the nearest market was a fancy Safeway. Maybe I could blend in and look like I work there.

The stares were in abundance, since I did relocate closer to the Business District. Yes, I looked like I was under the wheels of a taxi or two sans the markings of tire tracks all over my body.

God, today is trash!

I ordered my cup of Starbucks coffee with embarrassment, I figured it was a good idea to step toward the stand of bouquets and pretend like I was interested in purchasing them. Though, the flowers didn't have to serve as a distraction anymore when I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket.

"Who is calling me?" I grumbled, before looking stupefied at my screen.

Mortified, I answered, "Andre?"

He cleared his throat before saying, "Hey Ada... turn around."

Oh, no.

I cringed and did as I was told, and could see him standing in line. I recognized that band shirt and even those jeans. I always knew the month was closing out whenever he had a fresh touch up with his hair. He always looked so good, and it felt so weird seeing him and not being able to tell him that. Our breakup was still too much to think about, and it seems like I have to keep facing it in public. Is this how he and I are going to keep meeting from now on?

That's right. Remember to get a coffee maker.

"I... hi?" I returned with furrowed brows.

From the back of the line I saw him despondently shake his head, "I guess I deserve that."

"Deserve what?" I muttered turning my attention back toward the flowers.

"That... You turning away from me," he admitted.

My shoulders slumped, "I don't know what to say. I didn't think you wanted to talk to me."

"I always want to talk to you..." he said, but it didn't sound confident at all.

I scoffed and rubbed my nose. Today was going to keep getting worse and worse.

"I got your text the other night, Ada," he confessed.

"I know you did. But you don't have to explain why... please, we don't have to talk about it," I whimpered.

Suddenly, to my luck, my name was called by a confused barista. I faked a smile, grabbed my cup, and quickly rushed out of the establishment.

"Ada!" he shouted from behind, and I had to stop.

Was he really coming after me? I was stuck watching him hurry to me. Some familiarity was hurdling my way, and I couldn't run away from it. My heart was racing, and I had to stop myself from crushing the cup in my hand.

Andre excused himself through the rushing sidewalk and ushered me underneath the nearest awning canopy. I wanted to ask what he was doing, or why he had even bothered to get my attention. But I just looked up to him and was lost in a memory. Not that long ago we were so happy.

Or so I thought...

The look in his eyes had a grip on me, as he confessed,"Ada, I'm sorry,"

"Don't. I don't want to hear it," I said without thinking twice.

My heart didn't bother to put up a fight with my head.

"But I am," he sighed.

The remorse on his face was making it easy to lose the battle. He lifted up his hand and raked his fingers through my curls. My ends dangled halfway to my neck and that's where he chose to conclude his journey. One warm hand, slid down my neck and lightly gripped my shoulder followed by his other.

"Andre, don't," I whispered, but it was too late.

His kiss was so soft and warm. It was happening, and I didn't want to stop it. But of course, whatever I want rarely comes first, as he slowly tore our lips apart and ran his thumb over my lips.

"Even now, you're still so beautiful," he confessed, looking over my worn and disheveled appearance.

My eyes welled up, and I shook my head. He wasn't allowed to do this. I don't understand why people just can't listen to me. When I say I don't want something, do I give off the opposite?

Rushing away from him was somehow the hardest, yet easiest things for me to do. And I was happy I stumbled into my new apartment, alone. However, the scent of the leather and goods hit me, and I was a mess all over again. I wanted to fall into my bed and bury myself underneath my covers.

But I can't even do that.

"My bed..." I gasped, remembering that none of my old furniture was in view.

I just wanted to rip my hair out. Just a moment of peace. Just one simple train of thought that doesn't involve any shitty relationship. Of course, I couldn't even have a little time to myself because my stomach turned at the sound of my door unlocking. I revolved around to see the terrible man holding a key to my apartment and slamming the door behind him.

"Get out of my apartment!" I shouted.

Yet, he stormed over to me and I took off my flip flop ready to defend myself.

"You going to hit me?" he huffed, with narrowed eyes.

I swatted it in the air and threatened, "You're damn right I will strike an intruder."

Unbothered by my proclamation, he swiftly closed the space between us. He used one hand, pressing against the small of my back, to bring us chest to chest. Two hands were lingering around my back, rising up to the blades of my shoulders. I gasped, feeling him tightly grip the fabric on my back while his eyes were locked onto my lips.

My flimsy defense slipped from my hands, the moment his palms brushed up my neck and to my jaw. I lost it when his fingers lightly tangled into my hair– my eyes fluttering closed partnered with an unrestrained gasp. What little air that filled my lungs was forced out, and there was no room to gather any more once he instantly pulled me close and melded his lips with mine.

Before my mind could link all of my erratic senses together, he swiftly released me and staggered back. First he ran his hand through his hair then down the side of his face with parted lips. My head anchored but my petrified eyes never broke away– looking at him catch his own breath while staring at the floor.

Breathlessly he affirmed, "It is not possible... for your future landlord to be an intruder."

And with that he turned to race out of my apartment and slammed the door behind.

I couldn't collect my thoughts, but I had to. And a good way to start about that goal was to breathe.