Episode 11| Where the Sun Don't Shine

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Sophia's P.O.V.

"I love your outfit," Kelsey complimented, exiting out of the elevator after me. I slowed my speed and let her catch up with me so we could walk alongside each other. The hallways were cleared out and we were the only ones that wandered through it—like lost children in a super market. I knew they occupied the two top floors, but I didn't expect for there to be two single doors and nothing else while walking through the lifeless corridors.

"Thanks," I mumbled softly.

If I played my cards right, perhaps Kelsey won't bury me alive. My life might not be at risk like I had predicted earlier this week.

Well, on second thought...

Today, Kelsey wasn't my biggest fear. Brooklyn was. I was crossing my fingers , hoping that she wouldn't find out about me using her clothes. I'd be on the seven o'clock news as a missing person case if she knew I had borrowed her clothes.

"I kind of just put something together." I said. "I let my subconscious take over and decide what to wear."

What am I saying? Stop talking. Stop talking now.

"Well it's really nice," Kelsey continued, grinning. This conversation contrasted to how she was downstairs with the security guys. In this setting with soft lights hitting her dusky colored skin, I caught myself smiling back at her. She looked kind, staggeringly different than her notorious, vicious glare that scared girls off.

We came to a stop at the first door on our left. Kelsey patted down her pockets, looking for the apartment key. "One sec." She brought out a set of keys from her jacket, examining them to see which one would unlock the door.

"Is this your apartment?"

"No, this is Bryce's. Mine is across the hall," she replied. "He should be asleep though. I didn't see him come home last night, but I know he made it safe from Rickey's Bar."

"Rickey's? You mean that creepy dive bar in Downtown?" I scoffed. "I didn't know people actually went in there. I've driven past it a few times."

Kelsey's hands hovered over the door knob. "That's Bryce's uncle's bar. Bryce owns a quarter of it."

I gulped. "Oh. Um, I —"

Kelsey cut me off mid-sentence.

I was hoping she'd say she was kidding. That this was a joke and that she only said that to get a reaction out of me. The crease between her brows told me a separate case scenario. "It's alright. We get that a lot. Bryce is always there though, and so are most of our friends. You should stop by if you ever have time. Have you ever been inside?"

"Uh, no. I haven't." I answered. "I'm still eighteen. I'm turning nineteen next week."

Kelsey's face lit up as she inserted the key in and swung the door open. "Really? Your birthday's next week?"

"Yeah, it's next week. I'm not big on birthday parties though. I'm probably not going to do anything special."

"That's ridiculous. You need to do something for your birthday. You must have something planned."

"My friend Nicolas wants to go to this carnival for my birthday," I divulged. "He bought the tickets in advance. That's all I'd do for my birthday, besides hanging out with my family during the daytime."

I paused in front of the threshold, hesitating a few steps behind Kelsey. She was already ahead of me, walking into the apartment as if she owned the place. My eyes grazed up to the tall ceilings and the accents of deep shades of blue in all the furniture choices.

The open floor plan in Bryce's home made it possible to see past the living room, into the dining area, and over to a small bar beside the exit that led to a spacious balcony area. A steel staircase was placed in the far-right corner of the apartment, twisting and turning into the second floor.

I pointed at the stairs. "Does that lead up to the bedrooms?"

"That leads to the second kitchen, the den, and a few other rooms. The only bedroom up there is Bryce's." Kelsey step to the right and gestured to a separate hallway that I had completely missed during my first look at the apartment. "That over there is where some bedrooms are. They're mainly guest rooms."

"Are you sure...t-this is classified as an apartment?" I stuttered in befuddlement. "This place is bigger than my future."

Kelsey laughed one of those deep-belly laughs that could only come from a place of true sincerity.

"Yeah, you're laughing now, but I'm serious." I deadpanned and reached for her hand to shake it. "I'm not sure if I ever introduced myself to you before, but hello I'm Sophia Álvarez. I'm poor."

Kelsey chuckled once more. "I get what you mean. I kinda think this place is a little over the top sometimes, too. But hey, it can't be that bad. You're paying for an education at Lincoln University. That isn't cheap."

"I'm not paying a single penny for my time at Lincoln. I got a full ride," I revealed. "Just cause I'm poor doesn't mean I'm stupid."

Despite the fact that I've done some questionably stupid things in the past.

"That's really impressive. Sadly, we can't say that for all Lincoln undergrads. It's the other way around for most of those legacy kids." She rolled her eyes, sighing to herself. "Anyway. I'm going to go check up on Bryce and make sure he comes down here. I'll only be a second. You just stay here and bring out your books."

Walking over to the dinner table, I complied to her request and sat myself down on the chair that had lion claw detailing. The plush material and the way it perfectly matched everything else in the blue room made me wonder if it was custom made.

Moments later, Kelsey began banging on a door upstairs. "Bryce! We're here! Sophia and I are going to start studying in the living room. Come out when you're done getting dressed."

She came down the stairs alone, and a bit upset at her lack of a response from a sleepy Bryce. "That's weird."

"Did he not wake up?" I asked.

"No, he wasn't even in his room. I went up there and opened the door, and he wasn't in his bed."

"Yeah, that is awfully strange."

"I know—without a doubt—that he's in the apartment. He's got to be. My boyfriend said he dropped him off. Bryce was so out of it last night that he called him down to the bar to drive him home. After that fight he had—oh I probably shouldn't have said that." She caught herself, biting down on her lip to stop from the truth spilling out.

"I'm fine with that," I shrugged without changing my emotionless face. Playing it off as if I didn't care was getting easier with her, despite how nauseous I've been feeling since I got here. Sickness rumbled at the pit of my stomach, daring to burst out.

Throwing up wasn't my end goal tonight though. I needed to take slow, easy breaths and remind myself that this was a onetime thing. I'd never have to talk to them after tonight.

After this day, we would return to strangers and I'd remain a faceless student on the campus of Lincoln University.

That was my end goal.

"I don't know where he'd go off to like that at this early hour." Kelsey focused her eyes at the floor in thought, crossing her arms over her chest. Her gaze shot up to the hallway after a string of odd noises echoed out from one of the rooms. "Wait, did you hear that? I think I heard someone speaking."

I shook my head. "No, I didn't hear anything."

Glancing over at my textbook, I diverted my gaze from her so she couldn't read my bluff.

I had heard some whispering in the far corners of the apartment, yet the back of my mind reassured me that I was making it up. When Kelsey had left to wake Bryce up, that was when I heard the first sounds. It didn't appear to be one individual voice. I wasn't familiar with either of them, given how far I was seated from the hallway, but I knew it had to be a conversation between two people.

"I'll go check it out on my own." Kelsey offered, and I was relieved that I didn't have to tag along. I kept my nose in my books and held my tongue while waiting for her to return.

When Kelsey entered the guest room, the whispers remained low, too quiet for me to hear what they were talking about. I did distinctively pick out the name "Bryce" several times from Kelsey. She was louder than him. It confirmed to me that her guess was right. He was in there—hopefully alone.

"Yeah, right. As if he'd been in there alone." I grumbled to myself in the empty dining area.

This was the same guy who had morning-sex in the Co-Ed bathrooms at my dorm this term. This was the same guy who supposedly had a long list of girls sleeping with him, from what Nicolas told me. I had to swallow the truth for what it was; he was in there—right now—with a girl.

A girl that was more his type, sharing his company. A girl who was a million time more fun than me.

There was no "probably" in that conclusion that she was better than me. It was an underwhelming fact. I was the poster child of good behavior and boring weekend activities.

I couldn't even keep a guy interested longer than two weeks. The only exception to that would be Remy, but we all know how glorious that relationship was.

Let's not recap. My sanity relies on it.

During my senior year, I won Most Likely To Brighten Up Your Day, which at my high school was the title they gave to the do-gooders that you never invited to a party and certainly never thought about hooking up with, unless they had no other options.

Relax on the self-hate speech, sheesh, the more rational side of my brain shouted, battling against my personal attacks.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I let a sigh subside as the bedroom door creaked open. Kelsey emerged first, painting on a face that appeared pale in comparison to her usual confident smirk.

"Hey, so change of plans...we're going up to the den upstairs." She announced breathlessly. "Bryce should be up there in five minutes."

Without question this new move, I stuffed my backpack with my anthropology textbook and journal. "If you guys are busy, I can come back tomorrow."

"No, no, that won't be necessary. We just had...a bit of a misunderstanding in the room. I think he forgot you were coming."

I stepped back, taking her words like they were a slap to the face. Here I was, worrying about what to wear and how to act when I got here, stress about nearly everything regarding this arrangement—yet he forgot about it entirely.

What did you expect? My acrimonious thoughts pipped in, leading to the fall of my confidence. You couldn't have possibly thought he would be different...for who? You. Please.

"Sophia?" Kelsey called out.

I blinked my eyes repeatedly, playing off the seriousness of the battle in my head and entered the den after her.

Two large recliners were side by side in front of a desk made out of dark mahogany. The left wall had a tall bookshelf, stacked with books and a few framed photos in between each shelf. Where I was in front of the desk, I saw a few titles that weren't written in English. Spanish was writing on the spine of a red book, yellowed pages poking out.

"Do you have the notes by any chance?" I asked, plopping my bag on to my lap. "It would be easier if I started now instead of waiting for Bryce. I'm only here for the notes."

Kelsey slowed her walk around the massive desk and both her brows lowered, eyeing my outfit for a second time like it was brand-new. "You sure about that? Because I believe your subconscious thinks otherwise. When I said you could come over, I thought we had an understanding that this wasn't just about the notes."

I croaked. "Wh-hat are you talking a—"

"Honey. You don't have to lie." She threw herself on to the leather chair, kicking her feet on the edge of the desk. "I want to ask you something, how do you feel about kids? And how do you feel about possibly naming them after me? You know, I've always wanted –"

"Whoa." I sat up in my seat. "I didn't sign up for that. I asked for notes."

She lowered her feet from the desk. "Well we all know 'borrow your notes' is just code word for 'jump my bones big daddy.' Duh"

"In what world?!" I yelled, dropping my backpack to the floor, along with my jaw.

"She's joking." The den's door opened. I peeked over my shoulder and saw Bryce, wearing loose fitting jeans and a half buttoned  emerald dress shirt that brought out the flakes of green in his eyes. My stomach plummeted at the sight of his slightly exposed chest as he finished the task of buttoning his shirt up. Dammit. "At least, I hope she's kidding."

"I am," Kelsey chimed and hopped out of her seat, sauntering  to the front door.

"Where are you going?" Bryce asked.

"I'll be back." Hanging off the frame of the doorway, Kelsey turned back around at us. "I suddenly got hungry. I'm going to go down stairs for about five minutes and pretend like I'm not eavesdropping. Bye."

Kelsey patted Bryce's back, winking suggestively while exiting the den.

Bracing my bruised confidence for a forecast of bad news, I looked at Bryce, wondering if he would soon excuse himself so he could go back to his one-night-stand for another go around.

Seeing him here, instead of in an overcrowded classroom, changed the way I saw him for the better. I noticed how he gaited into the room and the rhythm in his step. It was smooth, almost like floating, in comparison to my usual ungraceful way of walking into a room.

I made a mental note to stop thinking like this. I had met my quota of self-loathing for the week. I needed to ease up on this negativity or I'd find myself selling 'I hate Sophia' shirts and hats off the I-5 freeway.

"I'm glad to see that you found your way here. Was it hard to find the place?" Bryce reclined in the tall chair, swirling it around so it was facing me. "I didn't know you were coming today. Kelsey made it seem like you were coming tomorrow."

"It's okay." I shrugged, holding back my actual thoughts. "And it wasn't hard to find it. However, it was kind of hard to get in. That got handled though."

"What do you mean by that?" His brows arched. "Did security give you a hard time?"

I waved him off. "Kelsey handled it."

"It was Oscar, wasn't it?" Bryce jumped to say, sitting up in his chair and moving around the papers on the desk. My mouth fell open when he picked up a cellular phone, extending the antenna and beginning to dial.  I couldn't afford a cell phone. No one on my street could. There was a guy in my graduating class that had a cell phone and he made sure to remind us of it.

Bryce grumbled into the phone. "It's always Oscar. I swear, the man thinks he's irreplaceable. I want to see how irreplaceable he thinks he is when I rearrange his intestines—"

"That's a little extreme." I gulped. "I don't want to start some kind of conflict."

"I was going to fire him, sooner or later," Bryce said, still speaking into his cellular phone. "This only sped up the process."

"That's not that important," I blurted. "I just want to get the Anthropology notes."

Mirroring Kelsey's actions, Bryce's gaze start at my ankles and made their way up. Only difference was that Bryce kept his eyes in certain places a little bit longer than she had.

Bryce quickly darted his eyes to the paper work on his desk. After sifting through them for a few minutes, he set his phone down and unearth a black journal from the pile that had 'anthro' written across the cover in slanted handwriting.

I reached over and grabbed the journal he extended out to me, picking it up. "The last four pages are from the latest lecture. I also started a bit of the worksheet she handed out last week if you go five pages forward."

"Worksheet?"

"It's taped inside." He pointed at the journal. "Professor Evan's handed it out on the tenth of this month. I believe you weren't there that day." I straightened in my seat. "I'm observant of my surroundings." He added on.

Observant or a creep?

That is the question.

I sighed. "I forgot I missed a class."

The only day I didn't attend class was on the previous Tuesday class. Brooklyn had turned off my alarm clock so she could use my outlet to plug in her hair straightener. She forgot to plug it back in, hence, why I didn't wake up on time.

Resting my backpack on the side of the chair, I flipped through the pages. I had my journal on my lap and a pencil in my opposite hand, ready to jot down any crucial notes. "Do you remember  what Professor Evan's talked about that day by any chance?"

Bryce scooted in, putting both of his elbows on the desk. His eyes flicked up and down the walls of the den while he thought back to last Tuesday. "She played a video that covered hunters and gatherers in different societies. At one point, she fell asleep during the presentation which disrupted the entire viewing process. That woman snores like a chainsaw."

I suppressed a smile. "I've heard it's nightmarish."

"It's worse than nightmarish. It's like a mix between the noise a city bus makes while rumbling down a street and someone choking on their own spit. I don't know if I should save her life or shove a dollar in her mouth."

"Unless you want to get bitten, I'd say don't put money in her mouth," I snorted. Going through the notes, I paused at a page that went over an Orwell quote that we had discussed in class. It was less of a quote and more so a manipulated portion from the Bible that replaced certain words with Money, showing how senseless we all became in the presence of wealth. I had copied the same notes myself, but what Bryce did with his quote made me squint at the page.

I hummed to myself.

"What is it?" Bryce leered forward in his wrinkly chair.

"Oh, it's nothing. You remember that George Orwell quote? The one that goes like "...thought I give my body to be burned, and have not money, it profiteth me nothing...And now abideth faith, hope, money, these three; but the greatest of these is money.' And then you added an annotation that reads, 'money doesn't buy happiness, but you can't be happy without money. Living from check to check isn't living. It's surviving, at bare minimal."

"Pessimistic, I know," Bryce mused, a ghost of a smile start to make an appearance. "I'm not obsessed with money or status, if that's what you're leading up to."

"I wasn't going to say that. Your apartment says it for you." I noted. "Which I don't get, because your car doesn't match this house."

The other day, I had seen him cruising in a hand-me-down car that was only a smidge better than my death trap on wheels. His wardrobe didn't go with his high-end home either. Sure, he dressed nice, but it wasn't something that deserved to be on the cover of a magazine. Which this home certain would be.

"Flashy things brings attention." Bryce retorted, fixing the button on his sleeve. "Attention means problems, problems that I can't afford to have. People ask questions when they see an unemployed twenty-three-year-old driving in a 100,000-dollar car."

I tugged at the hem of my skirt and crossed my legs. "I have a few questions of my own though. How does an unemployed twenty-three-year-old live in a place like this? I'd really like to know because you're obviously doing something that other noodle-eating college students aren't aware of."

"Inheritance." He replied all too fast.

I scoffed. "Oh really?"

"My

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