Intertwined

Twenty Five

Cassidy

Heavy footsteps woke me up unexpectedly, and I glanced at the night sky still visible through my curtains. The past five days since the fight with Houston, I never could get enough sleep as I woke up at five o'clock every morning and laid awake thinking about what Houston was feeling. If he did give a damn about this relationship, or if I was left in the dark about the conditions of our relationship. The stress and wrong decisions were eating me alive, and every missed moment with Houston felt like there was no hope for reconciliation.

As I tiptoed to the bedroom door, I opened the door and noticed the opposite bedroom open, alight with numerous boxes around the room. At least, I wasn't the only person up at this hour. 

I crept downstairs and followed the sound of a running engine and a disgruntled voice outside, which hadn't shocked me when I stopped on the porch. Houston heaved a box into the bed of his truck and wiped the sweat from his forehead, his brown hair curling onto his forehead. He asked, "What are you doing here?"

"It's five in the morning," I said in an unhappy tone, and I noticed Houston's eyes gaze at my pajamas for seconds longer than he was supposed to. "Why are you awake at five in the morning?"

"Thought I should get started on moving out." Houston then resumed lifting boxes into the bed of his truck, completely avoiding my gaze.

"You're moving out?" I scoffed and stomped towards him, willing him to look at me. "You can't move out."

"Yes, I am moving out," he replied, rolling his eyes at my questioning. "I am moving out right now, and you can't convince me not to."

"Why?"

He set the final box on the porch and glared at me with an icy, blue-eyed gaze, crossing his arms. Houston asked, "Why are you so upset about this, Mitchell? It shouldn't affect you at all; you don't like me like that, anyway."

Daggers cut through me as his blue eyes continued to watch my every moment, clambering for an emotion to cling on to. In response to him, I crossed my arms and straightened my form to match his looming stature, and for a second, past feelings returned. Electric shockwaves rippled through my veins and the nerve endings, and I swore there was still something left after all the arguments and fights. I craved the taste of his lips like it was oxygen again.

I broke away from his gaze and rubbed my arms, as a cool breeze swept through the ranch and prickled my forearms. With Houston's gaze still on me, I whispered, "It does affect me, Houston."

"Really? How does my moving affect you?" Houston questioned as he pulled himself on to the tailgate and rested his elbows in a relaxed position, awaiting my case. For seconds, I forgot about Benjamin and who he was. 

Houston was talking to me like we used to when he was annoyed by my presence and pretended not to care. This conversation mirrored the ones when we first met, and before everything in our lives became messier. I wanted him again.

"You don't even know where you'll be living."

"Dallas found an apartment above the bar," Houston added with no emotion. "It's a two-bedroom with cheap rent."

"You've already made friends and my dad loves you as his favorite employee," I added in an attempt to lift his spirits, and a crack of a smile appeared on Houston's face. "And you can't just let what happened between us dictate your future, your friends, or your job."