The Hazed Series (New Edition)

by Brittany Butler

  With wide eyes, his shoulders slump up and down with every quick, rugged breath he takes. He wants to fight me. I can practically see him sizing me up, calculating his next move. A light knock comes from the opposite side of the door, and he snaps out of the fucking fantasy he’s living in. He pushes past me, knocking me off balance and opens the door, revealing Taylor watching us with wide-eyes. He walks out of the apartment and she comes in.

  “I texted you,” she says, her voice is small and unsure.

  She stops in front of me, looking up at me apologetically. Afraid I’ll wrap her in my arms, I push my hands in my pocket and take a step back.

  “Sorry, haven’t had my phone. Want a drink?” I point to the kitchen, trying to take the focus off of Joel leaving my apartment.

  “What was he doing here?” She asks, matching my steps to the kitchen.

  “He forgot something,” I say, looking away from her.

  I pull a glass from the cabinet and fill it with ice. I turned on the sink, fill my glass with water, hoping she changes the direction the conversation is headed.

  “What?” She questions.

  “Coke and pills,” I say; her eyes grow wide. You wanted me to be honest, baby, be careful what you ask for.

  “Did he get them?” She interrogates, the ice in her voice isn’t missed.

  “Nope, I threw them out.”

  “Oh,” she says, shocked. She walks around me, then sits on the couch. I sit in the chair across from her and place my drink on the floor before looking at her.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  Her face crumbles around her forced smile and she looks down. She plays with the hem of her shirt, occasionally wiping her face.

  “Taylor?”

  “Give me a minute,” she snaps.

  Her voice breaks at the end, but she won’t admit she needs to talk. I lift the cup to my mouth, instantly pissed it’s water. I’ll refrain from drinking while she’s here, she would be pissed if she knew I picked that habit up again.

  “I was evicted,” she finally says.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” I say.

  She shrugs it off like it’s nothing. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “What I said must’ve pushed him over the edge.”

  “He was looking for a reason. The whole thing with my mom did it,” she says and her face falls again.

  “What happened?”

  “My mom kicked him out…And now I’m cut off.”

  “So, you came here…” I laugh once.

  “I had nowhere else to go,” she says, her brows pinch together.

  “Ouch.” I laugh, clasping my hand over my heart, but if it’s all I can get, I’ll take it.

  “It’s not like that. We’re friends, right? I just thought I could stay for a few days until I get an apartment.”

  “Stay as long as you need.”

  “Thanks, Hayze, I really appreciate it! You won’t even know I’m here,” she says, but I know that’s impossible. “It’s late so, I guess I’m gonna crash,” she says nervously.

  “Yeah, I don’t have another bed right now, so you take mine and I’ll take the couch.”

  “I can’t do that,” she says, her face morphs into a frown.

  “It’s no big deal, we’ll figure something out tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay…But I’m cooking dinner tomorrow!”

  “It’s a date,” I say, smirking.

  “It’s just a few days.” Her tone implies she is trying to convince one of us this is temporary, and she’ll be gone again.

  She runs her bottom lip through her teeth. Her eyes never leave me as she walks in my room. I wonder which of us she was reminding. She left my door open; I hear her shuffling around my room as I stand in front of my unwelcoming couch.

  “Taylor,” I say.

  “Yeah?” She replies from my room, and I smile

  “Just so you know, I’m not your friend.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SIX

  Taylor

  I sit on the couch, with my feet propped on Hayze’s coffee table, reading the chapter for the second time. With the wounds still fresh, memories of this apartment plague my mind, not leaving space for studying.

  When the door flies open, I grip my notebook and shove my notes inside in case I need to make a quick escape.

  “It’s the room on the left,” Hayze barks out orders.

  Two gruff men carrying a bed step in, struggling to make it to the back of the apartment, they pick up their pace. Hayze follows behind them with sacks in his hand. He doesn’t stop to explain.

  Someone knocks on the door and I open it, confused when I find a pizza delivery. I reach in my pocket, looking for money to pay.

  “Already taken care of Miss,” he says, stepping back. “Y’all have a good one.”

  I sit the large box in the kitchen, frowning at Hayze’s erratic impulses. Tonight over dinner, we need to establish ground rules, and I need to find an apartment as soon as possible. As the men walk out the door, Hayze appears, smiling.

  “What’s with the bed? If the couch was that uncomfortable, we could’ve switched,” I say.

  He shrugs and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I’ve been meaning to get one.”

  “You aren’t going to find a smaller place with Joel gone?” I ask.

  “I’ve looked. Nothing’s available right now. Actually, I’ve been looking for a roommate.”

  I snort, “Yeah, since that went so well the first time.”

  “No kiddin’, but I think I found the perfect roommate this time.”

  “That’s good,” I say. I grab a plate, filling it with more pizza than I need, and sit down on a stool. Hayze looks amused as he stands across from me.

  “Yeah, it’s a good match. The person is clean, doesn’t go out much, so I know they won’t bring a bunch of people over here. Plus, she hates me right now, so she won’t bother me.”

  I dropped the pizza from my hands, finding a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

  “Are you out of your mind?” I ask.

  He laughs, “C’mon, let’s just see how it goes. Think about it, if we split rent it would be dirt cheap.”

  “I didn’t want to live with you when we were together, so why would I magically change my mind after we broke up?”

  “You don’t have anywhere else to go,” he points out.

  “I will! I just need a few days to find something…”

  “There’s no one-bedroom apartments left, and everyone’s already bunked together. Trust me, I’ve looked. I’m just trying to help you out,” he says, raising his hands and stepping away.

  Letting out a sigh, I meet his stare. The corners of his mouth quirk into a grin; he knows he’s right.

  “I don’t think we should live together. I mean, what are we gonna do the first time we go on a date with someone else? It’s going to be so awkward…”

  “You don’t have to worry about me dating,” he laughs.

  “If I go on a date, it’ll be super awkward if I’m living with my ex-boyfriend, don’t you think?” I ask, my brows bunch together, trying to convince him this is a bad idea.

  He grips the counter until his knuckles turned white, then he lets go with a clenched jaw. “So, we’ll set some ground rules.”

  “I still haven’t said yes,” I remind him.

  “You haven’t said no. Okay, so, rule number one, no dating,” he says, smirking.

  “Um, veto,” I instantly say.

  Shaking his head, he sighs. “Okay then, we live by the ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ rule.”

  “Deal. Rule number two, we have to be fully clothed in the apartment at all times.”

  “What the hell kind of rule is that?” He asks, his face gathered into a scowl.

  “I’m just saying it’s respectful to your roommate. Especially if they’re the opposite sex, to…ya know, not be naked. Don’t walk around with a towel or in your underwear,” I say, finally mana
ging to stutter my point across. His eyes mock me as they light with amusement.

  “Fair enough. I’ll cover up, but that rule doesn’t apply to you,” he says. His gaze travels up my body, and I yank my knees to my chest, covering myself up.

  “Rule number three, don’t look at me like that,” I say.

  He laughs, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. Rule number four.”

  “Jesus Christ, how many rules are there?” He groans.

  “Watch what you say; no reminiscing and nothing inappropriate.”

  “Define inappropriate?”

  I roll my eyes and he laughs. “No touching.”

  “Anything else?” He ask, clearly amused by this.

  I drag my bottom lip through my teeth, wishing I could avoid this conversation. But I can’t, it has to be addressed. Seeing my hesitation, his playful demeanor drops as he waits for me to break the tension in the air.

  “I don’t want any drugs or even alcohol at this point in the apartment. I don’t want any shady people here either. And that’s not just for me, Hayze, I worry about you too. It all needs to stop.”

  “I don’t mess with that shit anymore. It’s gone, I promise,” he says.

  “Everything?” I ask pointedly.

  “I have some liquor in the cabinet…That’s all though,” he replies.

  “You think you can just quit drugs and pick up drinking?”

  “It’s really not that big of a deal, Taylor,” he says.

  “Unbelievable. If I’m here, none of this is going on. Not even drinking.”

  “You can’t be serious,” he chuckles. “No alcohol? You sure you can do that? I’m not the only one here that hits the bottle.”

  “But we do it for two different reasons, Hayze. Together or not, I care about you and I’m not gonna sit back and watch you self-destruct.”

  Sighing, I walk over to the cabinet by the refrigerator. Three bottles of open liquor sit before me. I stow the bottles in my arms and walk over to the sink.

  “This is everything?” I ask, looking at him.

  He nods in response, watching me with caution. I twist the lid off every bottle and pour them in the sink at the same time before he could protest. When all the contents are safely down the drain, I opened the top of the trash to throw them out. Beer cans and empty liquor bottles fill the trash. I drop the three in my hand in the trash and glare at Hayze.

  “Did you have a party?” I ask, repulsed.

  “Not exactly. It’s done. I’m not doing anything else, so don’t freak out,” he says.

  “You drank all of this?”

  “Over the last week, like I said, don’t freak out. We just poured everything down the drain, I’m done with it,” he says, holding his hands up to calm me down.

  “I poured it out. You didn’t have a choice…What would’ve happened if I didn’t show up? You would’ve just drank yourself into a coma every night?”

  “Stop,” he says, forcefully.

  “I’m sick of finding you like this. This has to stop,” I yell.

  “Then stop leaving!” He shouts, the veins in his neck pulse with anger

  I laugh without humor, walking away from him. “This is a bad idea. I’m looking for a place tomorrow.”

  “Over a few bottles of liquor?”

  “It’s not the alcohol,” I say, frustrated. I blow the bangs from my eyes, wondering how to say what I need to say without sounding hateful.

  “It’s always something with you. If it’s not drugs, it’s alcohol, or anything else you do I don’t know about. I ended it with you for that reason, and I can’t be around it every day, knowing I can’t help you. It’ll drag me down along with you.”

  He rushes in front of me, standing between me and the door leading to the guest room. “I won’t add your name to the lease. You won’t even be responsible, you don’t have to stay, just try. I’m done with all of that shit, I just don’t want you to leave without anywhere to go.”

  “Hayze, I…”

  “Just say you’ll think about it,” he says, his eyes are pleading with me.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say, walking past him and into the guest room.

  A white blanket is on the bed, along with purple throw pillows. A few of my things from the dorms are in the room, and my bags are on the far side of the room. A picture frame that sits on the only table catches my eye; I walk over to the other side of the bed and picked up the picture of us I had in my dorms. He’s not playing fair.

  After my last class ends for the day, I found a table outside. The weather is exceptionally warm for February. I tell myself I’m sitting out here for that reason, not because I don’t want to go home.

  “Want some company?”

  I looked up, finding Joseph standing over the table. Not too long ago I would’ve bounced out of my seat and took him in a hug; he would’ve pushed me away if I lingered too long, then we would’ve spent the afternoon talking and laughing. Our home life would disappear. We would avoid the heavy tension that always seemed to hang over us, but now it’s different. Some days I miss our friendship. Other days, like today, I look at him through narrow eyes like he’s a spy.

  “It’s funny I’ve never seen you on campus, and now drama’s going on and suddenly you pop up,” I say, not bothering to make eye contact with him.

  I rip my bag of chips open and pop the top of my coke, ignoring him as I tossed a chip in my mouth.

  He clears his throat uncomfortably, then sits on the opposite side. “What would you say if I told you I’ve been looking for you all over campus for two days?”

  “I would say you you’re a stalker.” I smile and he does too.

  “I heard,” he says, his voice was serious.

  I laugh once. “Um, you’ll have to be more specific. I have a lot of stuff going on.”

  “Your parents,” he says. He brings his hand under his chin, looking at me apologetically. “Did he really kick you out?”

  “Yep,” I say, not caring to elaborate. He always takes my dad’s side.

  He shakes his head, astonished. “I can’t believe that. I always took up for him, I found an excuse when he was out of line…I knew he went about things the wrong way, but I thought his heart was in the right place. This is just wrong. I’m sorry, Taylor.”

  I wave him off. “It’s fine. He’s been threatening to cut me off for so long it was kind of a relief when it finally happened. If that makes sense.”

  “I get it. So, you’re okay?” He asks, his brows bump into each other, he looks concerned. For the first time in months, he looks like the guy I spent my childhood with.

  I smile. “I’m okay.”

  “Do you have a place to stay?”

  “Yeah, I’m staying with a friend. They have an extra room. I’m thinking about either staying there or finding a place of my own. I haven’t made my mind.”

  “There’s nothing available this late.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I say, exhaling a long, shaky breath.

  “If you ever need a place, I have a futon with your name on it,” he offers, smiling.

  “I don’t know if I could pass up an offer like that,” I say dryly.

  “Let’s hang out sometime.” Unintentionally, I cringe. “Or not,” he says, laughing.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that I…”

  “Boyfriend. Got it,” he says, clicking the roof of his mouth with his tongue. He grips the table as if he was ready to leave.

  Now would probably be the right time to tell him, and everyone else, Hayze and I are over for good. But it doesn’t seem right; I don’t want to hear I told you so, and I don’t want it to get back to my dad, so I don’t correct him.

  “I would love to hang out,” I say, smiling.

  He laughs, “What am I getting myself into? He seems a little…Crazy.”

  “He’s a good guy.”

  “What does your schedule look like this week?” He
asks.

  I pointed to my black Mystic shirt. “Work, every single night for the rest of this week. I’m off Mondays-Wednesdays.”

  “Monday night?” He asks.

  “Monday’s perfect,” I reply, smiling at him.

  “Where should I pick you up?”

  The dead grass crunches beside me with footsteps approaching. Strong hands meet the table; at the same time a familiar laugh fills the space.

  “You can pick her up at my place,” Hayze interjects.

  Joseph’s eyes widen, he looks between us, stammering an excuse. “I was just…”

  “Hitting on my girl?” Josephs face turns every shade of red, then Hayze chuckles and slaps him, rather hard, on the back. “Kidding! Need to know basis, right Taylor?”

  “Right,” I say, glaring at him.

  Without another word, he walks off. Joseph watches him until he disappears in the sea of students, then he leans into the table.

  “That was weird,” he says.

  “That’s Hayze.”

  “Do you ever get tired of being with,” he says, tapping his chin, thinking. “An emotional roller coaster?”

  “He’s not that bad,” I defend Hayze.

  I feel guiltier with each passing moment. I should tell him, but something inside me says I’m not ready.

  “If you say so. You’re really living with him?” He asks, clearly disapproving of my living situation.

  “Yeah, but it’s not what you think. I went over there because I got kicked out of my dorm really late the other night. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I’m staying in his guest room for a few days.”

  “But you said you’re thinking about staying permanently?” He recalls, backing me into a conversation corner.

  “It’s not a relationship decision, it’s more like it’s helping us both out, and I would be staying in my own room.”

  “So, you’re keeping your promise?” He asked, flicking his thumb around his ring finger.

  My eyes go wide as I take in the ring and what he’s really asking. In middle school Joseph and I made a promise to each other to save ourselves until marriage. Somewhere, deep inside a drawer, my ring sits collecting dust. The truth is, I took that ring off the day I left for college. Hayze had nothing to do with it. My promise died when I found out about my dad.