Oblivious

1. the shock

The sound of crashing dishes drew my attention to the small kitchen. Ayden threw another dirty plate into the sink, adding to the growing pile of filth from days' worth of neglect. It was his turn to sort out the mess, but I had a feeling he didn't give a shit.

"I have a shoot today," he said, not even sparing me a glance as he opened the fridge. Weak fluorescent light from inside enhanced his sharp features and cold gray eyes. He stepped back and chugged juice directly from the carton, knowing full well that it would provoke me.

I gripped the armrest of the dark leather sofa to calm down. I didn't know why he purposely kept annoying me, and I no longer wanted to know. Our friendship was falling apart, plunging into the depths with nothing to slow the decline along the way. If it didn't stop soon, we would hit rock bottom.

Slowly letting go of tension, I tried to sound unaffected. "Cool, see you later then."

It didn't work.

"You know, if you hate living with me so much, why don't you move out, Cal?" The challenge lingered in the air, crackling with tension.

It required effort to keep silent, but it wasn't a question I wanted to answer. No matter what I replied, it would only make the situation worse. I rose from the sofa, turned my back, and fled into my small bedroom. The door closed behind me with a soft click. It was an unsatisfactory sound considering how angry I was, but I had no intention of lashing out and ruining whatever we had left. Move out. Apparently, 17 years as best friends didn't amount to much, after all.

I wasn't sure why our friendship was disintegrating, or if there was any particular event that had started our descent—it just happened. Perhaps it was normal. Perhaps we had been through too much together. At one point, people are destined to abandon you. I just hadn't thought it would happen like this.

To make matters more complicated, we lived together in an apartment a couple of blocks away from college. Consisting of two tiny bedrooms and a living room with just enough space for a sofa, it didn't feel much larger than a shoe box, which meant we saw too much of each other.

Gripping the chilly windowsill with numb fingers, I stared out over the cityscape. No matter how tiny the apartment was, it was hard to complain with a view like this. The city seemed to go on forever, a jungle of concrete, steel and glass. A haven for those who didn't know what else to look for. I'd never lived close to nature, and I couldn't imagine ever pining for trees and endless plains. No, the apartment was perfect. It even had a kitchen I didn't have to share with five others. Despite being cramped in a corner, the kitchen was still my favorite spot—at least when it was clean.

Ayden owned the place, and I was practically freeloading, which meant that he had every right to question why I remained. I was pretty sure he was waiting for me to pack my bags even if he'd never said anything to my face before. Glancing over my shoulder, I made a quick survey of my stuff. How much would I want to bring with me if I left?

The bookshelf wasn't much to look at. It held a few photos I would bring—captured moments with my mom and dad before they separated. I had a chair that usually held a good portion of my clothes that I couldn't bother place in the closet or the hamper, but it had seen enough wear and tear over the last few years and might as well stay behind. Who knew how much stuff I'd be able to bring anyway.

If my relationship with Jessica had been better, I might have moved in with her, but we weren't ready for that kind of commitment. More and more, it felt like something was missing, some crucial part that I couldn't put my finger on. I'd wanted to break it off between us, but it seemed unfair to cut ties before I could explain what was wrong.