Days Go By

Normally, Garrett wouldn’t have cared that he couldn’t find his shoes. Had he been at one of the guys’ houses, he would have shrugged it off and simply taken one of their pairs until he returned or simply spent the night and looked for it late the next morning. But spending the night was not an option—the two had made that clear the moment they’d seen one another across the bar. He was simply thankful her apartment was small, making it easier to find the rest of his belongings in the dark. Turning on lights weren’t much of an option as she was already asleep, sprawled out across the mattress beneath the twisted sheets, her hair tangled across the bare of her back and lips raw and parted. Garrett’s belt was in his hand, as he slipped on his shirt, half of the buttons done before he had stepped into his jeans. The fly was still unzipped and he hadn’t bothered to fix that, instead focused now on the old pair of boots he’d worn and drunkenly kicked off moments into stepping through the apartment.

He was still drunk, as if the exertion from those hours earlier hadn’t worn off the heavy buzz from too many bottles of beer and twice as many shots. It made his vision bleary and the dark room spin at each step, and Garrett fumbled through the room, his eyes trained to the floor to find the pair of shoes still missing. Another curse slipped out of his mouth in a slur when he bumped into the couch, nearly falling over as he tripped on the rug at his feet. Blinking away the swaying feeling rushing through him, Garrett saw then his shoes beside the kitchen table, shoving them on his feet. With a heavy sigh, he patted down the pockets of his jeans for his wallet, keys and phone, satisfied when he found each in their proper place. Zipping his fly, he then finished guiding his belt through the loops, already shrugging on his jacket before he left the apartment all together.

Finding a taxi was relatively easy, and Garrett listed off the address before sinking back into the backseat. The drive was short, and he was more than thankful, eager to slip up the stairs and crawl into bed as exhaustion tugged through his body. Tossing the fee to the cabbie, he pushed forward to the apartment complex, stumbling on his feet still in the walk as reached the front door. Stuffing his hand into his pocket, he found his keys, fumbling with them until he found the correct one. After that, he stumbled up the steps to the second level, already more tired by the time he reached the door with the familiar number eight on the front. Garrett knocked at the wood, slumping into the doorframe as the slur left his lips.

“Open-Open up,” he giggled when he saw the light flicker on, brushing his hand through his hair and straightening his shirt next. “Jamie—”

When she opened the door, his mouth formed a wide grin, and he fell forward, looping his arms at her shoulders as he hugged her tightly. “Whoa, Gar—Garrett—”

“How’s my girl?” he mumbled into her neck, squeezing her in his arms as she tried to twist from his embrace.

“God, Gar, you reek of sex,” she muttered from his shoulder, pushing at his chest now and forcing him to release her. He giggled again, and Jamie sighed, shaking her head. “Weren’t you supposed to be at Tegan’s tonight?”

“Oh, I was most definitely not there,” Garrett giggled, falling into her again. “Now c’mon, Jamie, bed—bed time—”

“No way,” she pushed at his chest again. “Gary—” he ignored her, pulling her down the hall. “Gary, stop,” she forced him to stop in front of the bathroom, pushing him toward the shower now. “You know the rules, Gary. Shower first, then we—”

“Then I get to sleep with Jamie,” he finished, letting out a whine. “But it’s—”

“Come on, Gary,” Jamie cut him off, working at the buttons of his shirt now as he leaned against the counter. He began to giggle again, taking her hands in his, or trying to, and she swatted him away, finally finished unbuttoning his shirt entirely before she pushed it from his shoulders. “Go shower, Gar,” she said gently when he grabbed her hands again, her voice soft. “Then we can sleep.”

Garrett looked up at her, the grin loose on his mouth. He squeezed her hands before pulling her into another hug, his arms looping at her waist as he buried his face in her chest. “I love you, Jamie,” he mumbled, letting out a soft sigh.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you, too, Garrett,” she told him in reply. “Just when you don’t smell like sex.”

He nodded reluctantly, and she stepped away from him, tossing him a towel before she closed the door behind her. Flicking on the fan, Garrett glanced at himself in the mirror, taking in his unruly sight: his hair was a knotted mess and the stubble was rough, shadowing his jaw and upper lip, his eyes were clouded with booze and his mouth was raw and stained with lipstick. It was no wonder Jamie pitied him like she did, his mouth twisting into a scowl as he saw the hickeys marked at the base of his neck. Stepping into the shower, he let his muscles relax as the hot water spilled over him, his limbs heavy with exhaustion all over again by the time he was out and redressed. It was another perk to coming home to Jamie’s apartment: most of his clothes were already there, and Jamie had set out a t-shirt and boxers for him to redress in in anticipation of his arrival.

Jamie was in bed already when he stepped into her room, the giggles already leaving his lips as he stumbled to the mattress and slipped under the blankets. She twisted onto her side, and he curled closer to her, his damp hair marking the fabric of her t-shirt as he wrapped himself around her.

“All clean,” he mumbled, his eyes already closed as he took a deep breath. “All clean, for you…”

Her fingers toyed through his hair as she wrapped an arm at his shoulders, tugging the blanket over them with her opposite hand in a sigh. “Just go to bed, Gar,” she whispered.

He giggled now, twisting closer to her as his lips brushed across her neck. “I am in bed,” he smirked, opening his eyes now. In the darkness she looked down at him, letting the laugh leave her lips as he moved closer to her. “You’re wonderful,” he slurred now, reaching forward to kiss her cheek, missing and sloppily hitting her jaw instead with another giggle. “You’re my—my favorite girl, Jamie-Jamie Harrison.”

“I bet you tell that to all your girls, Garrett,” she rolled her eyes, and he giggled, shaking his head.

“Possibly,” he smirked again, his eyes closing as he hugged her to him. “But I only mean it with you, girl.”

She mumbled a goodnight to him that he only hummed an agreement to, the two falling to sleep easily now. It was their own routine where she stayed up to let him in when he was too drunk to open the door himself, pulling him through the house and making sure he was taken care of the morning after. She’d done it for years, helped him and taken care of him like this—her only rule was that he couldn’t retell the stories of the girls he was with and that he’d have to shower before he went to bed, hating the smell of sex still lingering at his body upon his return. Garrett was used to the routine, even as he’d fight her each night it occurred, but it beat returning to his parents’ home where the memories were too strong and the idea of returning in his usual state wasn’t an option.

Like most other mornings, Garrett woke up to Jamie leaving his hold, barely acknowledging the action before he fell back to sleep. It was usually at least another hour or two before she’d try to wake him up again, this time calling his name or letting her alarm clock do the job when she was too busy to soothingly bring him back to consciousness.

“Come on, Gar,” she pulled at his shoulder, turning him to his back as he felt the mattress sink down from where she sat beside him. Her fingers brushed at his chest as she tapped across the front of his shirt, leaning over him again. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Garrett groaned, pushing her hands away from him as he turned to his opposite side again, burying his face into her pillows. “Fuck off.”

“I always forget how lovely you are in the morning,” he heard her muse before her hands were tracing at his back now. “Come on, Gary. I have to go soon and I know you’ll spend all day in my bed if I don’t get you up now.”

At this, Garrett’s eyes opened and he squinted up at her, the muffled curses leaving him again with another groan. “I hate you,” he grumbled, pushing himself upward now as he rushed a hand over his face. “Why do you have to go?”

“Because some of us have college courses and internships,” she explained simply, pushing a mug into his hand and dropping the pills into his other. “I have a meeting with my professor in an hour, Gary.”

“But I wanted to take you to breakfast,” he whined, curling back to her bed and looping an arm at her waist.

“Raincheck,” she leaned down to kiss his cheek, standing from the bed and straightening her outfit. His eyes followed her, watching as she fixed her blouse and jacket, grinning over at him before spinning around once for him to see. “What do you think?”

He smirked at her, moving up onto his elbow. “I think there’ll be a lot of Freudian slips with anyone you talk to, darling.”

Jamie laughed, stepping forward and cupping his jaw now, smirking when he met her stare. “Well, aren’t you smooth,” she teased, patting his cheek.

“I try.”

“But,” she extended the word, giggling now. “Still not smooth enough to stay in my bed all day, love. Get out.”

Garrett groaned, falling back to the mattress. “I made a Psychology joke,” he complained. “You’re supposed to love me, Jamie.”

“And I do,” she agreed.

He sent her a glare, curling back under the blankets as she began to sort through her things, placing random items through the room into her purse. Garrett’s eyes shut again as sleep tugged at him, exhausting him and making it difficult to fight the hangover pounding through his skull.

“I’ll tell you what, Gar,” she was sitting beside him on the bed again, her fingers tapping at his chest until his eyes opened with a muffled grunt. “If you can tell me the name of the girl you slept with last night, I’ll let you stay in my bed as long as you want.”

“Tegan,” he lied easily, sending her a cheeky grin.

Jamie laughed, shaking her head as she pushed herself up from the bed. “Nice try, but drunk-Garrett told me last night that you definitely weren’t with Miss Tegan. Try again.”

She was smirking at him, and they both knew he wasn’t going to win this one. He could barely remember what the girl looked like, let alone what her name was. Garrett could remember flashes—her skin and mouth and the way she felt under him, but she was nameless and practically anonymous past that. Sighing, he pushed himself out of Jamie’s bed in defeat, ignoring her giggle as he scanned the room for his jeans.

“That’s what I thought,” his friend laughed as he worked his belt into the loops of his jeans, hoisting her purse to her shoulder. “I’ll see you later, slut.”