Chapter 23: About Face

The next morning, I was a few minutes away from the building when I tossed the wrapper to my breakfast bar in an oncoming trash bin.

How has eating suddenly become this epic accomplishment each time now?

Nonetheless, I was feeling ready to start my day and ascend the steps to the entrance.

Grabbing for the door handle, I felt a sharp turn in my stomach as I caught the reflection of a black car parking against the curb.

Instinct wanted me to turn back, but the right thing for me to do was to go inside.

I returned a smile to the receptionist who was talking on the phone, and I had to admit that it had been a while since I had even bothered to pay attention to anything but that elevator door upon entering the building. The guilt about it was only temporary because things were changing.

I really do feel different.

My eyes were glazing over while I stared at the descending numbers flash on a panel above the door..

Maybe I should call Mom today. I know she's still worried. I need to get rid of the boxes too before Cinna Buns scratches up another one.

"Good morning, Ms. Young," I abruptly heard at my side.

I jumped, surprised at Mr. Leoné's sudden presence.

"Oh, good morning," I nervously laughed.

The obviousness of his eyes wandering around my face made my laugh fade away. I unconsciously began to do the same, also picking up his habit of stopping at the lips.

"Headed upstairs?" he asked with a high brow.

"Mmm hmm," I hummed, now admiring the sheen of his tie.

"Are you sure, Ms. Young?" he smirked, his glance fleeting to the wall.

I followed his eyes and realized that I hadn't hit 'up'.

"Sorry," I quickly apologized, reaching out to touch the button.

Oh no! He's going to think I did it on purpose!

Turning back with an insecure smile, I had to wipe it away the moment I noticed that he was peering at my hands. I insecurely crossed my arms and tucked my hands under my arms. Yeah they were a bit injured from yesterday but the scrapes were really from last night's handful of cardboard box mishaps.

The elevator doors parted and he extended his hand, allowing me to step in first. I quickly hit '31' and '33' before hiding my hands away again.

I could hear him take in a deep breath, "Ms. Young, may I ask you a question?"

Looking up to him, I nervously returned, "Yes."

"Did you have a good evening yesterday?" he quietly asked.

Trying to hide my smile, I dropped my attention to the floor and answered, "Yes. I did. I was in good spirits knowing that the things from my old apartment were still around."

The following silence had me focusing on him once more. I could see him swallow hard, and I was assuming that his distant stare into the elevator doors was his way of acknowledging how messed up the situation was in the first place. In fact, I caught a bit of the resentful fever, finding the doors more attractive as well.

"Well, I am glad you were able to find the unit yesterday," he said, breaking the awkward silence.

Fuck it.

Deciding to go with the flow and not let go of the good vibes just yet, I snickered, "Oh, me too. After I lifted up that big door, I was so happy to–"

"After you did what?" he interrupted.

I was quick to turn and be stunned by the irate look his face. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing is wrong," he swiftly answered, instantly closing me off.

Why? What did I just say?

I tried again, "Are you sure, everything is–"

"I said nothing is wrong, Ms. Young," he interjected, forcing me to cross my arms in annoyance.

Finally, we hit my floor, and I was happy to leave that moving crate. I knew today's good vibes were too good to be true, and of course it's him that could wipe that all away in an instant.

*

As the end of the day neared, I had my cursor hovering over the send button for several seconds.

Is this appropriate?

I was sure there was nothing wrong with inquiring about what happened, so I clicked the damn button. Maybe ten seconds later, he answered me and I was outside of his office door in no time.

"How can I help you, Ms. Young?" he distantly asked, refusing to pull his eyes from his computer screen.

I began with a heavy sigh. "Mr. Leoné, I've felt uneasy about what happened in the elevator this morning, and I was hoping I could find out what I said that upset you."

"You did not upset me," he grumbled, but anyone with a brain couldn't have bought that terrible lie.

Is he serious right now?

I continued to stare at him in disbelief. So quickly, he reverted back to acting like a child... or maybe he was just being himself. It was definitely my mistake for even thinking he would turn out to be different somehow, and that one night was just that one night.

The silence must have been bothering him too, forcing his glare from the screen and onto my vexed face.

Lightly rolling his eyes, he sighed, "It's past 3PM, Ms. Young... just go home."

My jaw dropped, but I knew that I made a promise to myself not to muddle the relationship I've been dying for by blurting the first thing that was on my mind.

"Have a good evening, sir," I finished sternly, taking my dismissal to heart.

Before the door closed behind me, I could hear him typing again and I stormed away even more pissed off. To think that he could actually give a shit about other people's feelings. You ask him one question and he shuts down the entire fort.

Completely unfair!

As much as I wanted to do the opposite of whatever he had to say, I did want to go home and rest before I figured out how to organize the rest of my evening. But I knew all I was going to do was be distracted by the same person that had me marching outside of the building and down the sidewalk. I kept trying to convince myself that I shouldn't have been surprised by any of today's events.

It's Mr. Leoné.

And I wasn't supposed to be looking for Ezra anymore. Though, it was hard not to think about that side of him when he kissed me two nights ago. I still didn't understand it, or why he waited moments before midnight to let me see him that way. One moment he's looking at you as though your very next words could break him, then in the next, impenetrable gates have erected around him.

I don't get you. I really don't.

I concluded that I just needed to leave it alone. I literally asked for this, so there should be no absolutely no more surprises.

But the moment I stepped out of the elevator and onto my apartment floor I froze at the package that was down the hall and in front of my door. I trailed toward it, blinking rapidly to make sure that I wasn't just seeing things.

There was a very large, brown rectangular box lying flat in front of my door and when I was close enough, I saw the cursive print read "bouquet".

"No," I gasped in complete shock, and with urgency, I opened my door and carried the package inside.

"He didn't," I whispered, not wasting another second to open the box.

Wow...

Two-dozen, long-stemmed white roses were lying delicately inside of the package, and I couldn't do anything but take in a few slow breaths. I couldn't believe he did this, but most of all... why?

There was neatly folded card underneath a fastened ivory ribbon securing the stems. I was still in so much shock as I retrieved it from its satin prison that I counted to three before I unfolded the paper.

I began to read aloud, "Dear Ms. Young, I'm deeply sorry for the way I treated you. I hope you will accept this gift as one of the many formal apologies you deserve for my reprehensible behavior. Sincerely... Christian?"

Insert all of the record scratch MIDI files.

"Christian?" I repeated, while scanning over the note once more. "He sent me these? Why would..."

It was then that I crossed my arms and patted the folded card against my lips, before whispering, "He did."

Damn you, Ezra.

I dug through my purse for my phone and before I could even swipe from the hold screen, I saw an unread email from Wesker's Storage.

"Shit," I gasped, after opening the message and seeing a wall of text that was apparently a massive apology from Christian.

I couldn't even bother to read all of it, I just had to start writing my own to the man that was surely behind all of this, since Christian's essay was CC-ed to Ezra.

Within five minutes, I received a reply

Re: Christian from storage???

Ms. Young,

If you so choose to visit the facility again, do not expect to lift even one finger.

"Ezra," I muttered, rereading his response several times.

Why did you do that?

The words in his reply were stuck in my head even when I escaped into an extra long shower.

What is happening? Was anything happening? Or is this all inside of my head again?

It had to be because, just moments ago, I was confirming that Ezra was gone.

He wasn't going to do this to me. He wasn't going to steal anything else from me; I can't let this happen.

Hurrying from out of the water, I prepared myself in an old grunge tee, skinnies and ankle boots to escape outside in a flash. I had to get out into the open air because that was surely the best way for me to calm down what was threatening to solidify in my head.

I needed a good distraction, and I needed it quick. So I stood still inside of the Safeway, staring blankly at the arrays of wine that were on my list of contemplations.

My fingers were seconds away from the neck of a bottle when I shoved my hands in my pockets instead and stomped out of the aisle. I reasoned that if I had to leave with something, holding a new cat toy in the self-checkout line was better than what I really wanted to do.

Not bothering to take a plastic bag, I tore my receipt and trudged to the exit. Normally, if anyone were to stop you before the double doors, you'd expect it to be security. Yet, there was too much irony in the situation passing through the automated doors.

"Ada," Andre called.

I hid my face and tried to pass him by, but it was no surprise that he turned back to follow after me.

Turning on my heels, I tightened my face and asked, "Yes?"

Andre's looked over me and he asked with worry, "Where is your jacket? It's fifty-five degrees out."

Wow, I'm this distracted.

I shrugged, "I left it at my place?"

"So you got on the train and came all the way here without noticing?" he asked wildly confused. "Is everything okay with you?"

My eyes were big. "You care because?"

He rolled his own at me. "C'mon, girl. Seriously?"

"Expect nothing less from someone so immature, Andre," I said with narrowed eyes.

"Ada, cut this shit out. What's going on?" he asked looking at the cat toy in my hand.

"So I can't go to the grocery store without it being a problem?" I scoffed.

He was slipping the tone of common sense in his reply. "If you lived here, in the south side, it would be a completely different scenario."

I crossed my arms, "Well you better jump into that scenario because I live here now."

"What? Wait, what? You and Greta moved?" he panicked, waving a hand in front.

"I moved," I corrected.

"Who are you living with now?" he demanded.

"Cinna Buns!" I spat back, before turning to escape the bullshit.

"What?!" I heard him exclaim from behind.

He cut off my path by hustling in front of me and commanding, "Stop."

"I'm trying to go home to get out of this damn cold. Remove yourself from my path," I sneered.

He scowled, "Not until you tell me why you moved and why the fuck you're living by yourself."

"Because I can," I answered blankly.

"Bullshit," he shot back.

I looked him directly in the eyes and asked what was really on my mind, "Why didn't you try to contact me after the last time we ran into each other?"

Instantly, his fervid stance had evacuated, and eyes dropped to the ground when he suggested despondently, "Can we talk about this inside?"

I didn't move, I could only continue to stare at him with a stony glare.

"Please, Ada?" he asked more kindly.

My eyes were starting to burn. "You really fucked with my head, you know?"

Andre couldn't look me in the eye while he took off his North Face and draped it over my shoulders. I wanted to resist his gesture, but when he gently placed his hands on my shoulders, my feet were light as I was lead back inside of the store.