When Faults Collide (Faultlines #1) (3 page)

-Asha Harris

I took another sip and realized that I had finished my coffee. I debated the merits of a second cup and then decided against it.

I stood up and walked over to the trash can and tossed it in, scrolling through Twitter while I walked. Tweeting while walking was an art that I had acquired and could manage quite successfully.

I smirked at my cute hashtags and turned to leave, but not before smashing directly into the man walking in.

It wasn’t even a graceful smash. Nope. I went nose deep into his chest, which threw off my footing, so I essentially fell into the man twice.

I jerked myself upright, his hand on my arm to steady me.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” I said keeping my eyes down. I was completely mortified. I attempted to scoot past him, but not before he chuckled.

“It’s totally okay. Twitter gets me, too,” he said softly.

I looked up and smiled awkwardly. His eyes caught mine and we locked on to each other for a few seconds.

He was light brown in complexion, darker than me but obviously biracial because he had soft curls cascading around his face and vibrant green eyes that would not be typical in someone African American.

He wore high top Converses, tight jeans, and a Pac-Man shirt. He had dark framed glasses that did nothing but highlight those gorgeous green eyes.

He coughed and I realized I hadn’t said anything.

“Oh, um, yeah. Haha. Social media addict right here,” I joked, “Well, thanks. Bye now.”

He smiled at me, his eyes clearly amused. “Bye.”

I scurried outside and finished my run to my house two streets over.

I walked up the stairs of my row house, jamming the key into the lock and opening the heavy door that was painted purple. My roommate Lily and I thought it was fun to have a bright purple door in contrast to all of the historic details you typically see outside.

I set my keys on the side table and pulled off my running shoes, dropping them in the basket by the door.

Lily thought this habit was crazy, but she didn’t grow up in India.

“Lils, you home?” I shouted out.

“Yeah! In here Ash!” I heard her shouting from the kitchen.

I walked through the living room and dining room and around the corner into our kitchen, where I found Lily standing in the middle of the room wearing an apron and covered in flour.

I breathed out and shook my head. “What are you doing, Lils?”

She shook her head quickly, looking to be on the brink of tears.

“Well, tomorrow is Tom’s birthday. So I thought I’d make cupcakes...”

Lily cannot cook. And I mean, she really can’t. She has had the fire department called to our house more times than any person should. If there’s a cooking faux pas to be made, she will be the one to make it. There are legends about the cookies she made with salt instead of sugar for our annual block party.

I shook my head. “Just pick some up at the bakery, love, and call it a day.”

She nodded and sniffed. Then she grinned, “Maybe I can just tell Tom I made them!”

I nodded “Yeah, and we can tell him that you’ve become a lesbian too, because that’s about how believable that story is.”

She threw the kitchen towel at me, faking offense, and we both giggled.

Tom and Lily had been together for as long as I’ve known them. We met our freshman year at VCU and they had already been an item for a semester.

Five years later, they had defied the odds of college relationships and had neither gotten married or even decided to live together.

According to Lily, the relationship stayed strong because they both had their own lives. Truth be told, you would never guess they had been together so long; they still acted newly in love.

I, on the other hand, did not date. Sure, I got asked out a lot, but other than group things, I always politely declined.

Most of our friends thought I was a closet lesbian. Despite my many heated discussions about it, I was in no hurry to prove them wrong. To some degree it made it easier and kept our guy friends from hitting on me.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like guys. I was just focused on getting my degree, and then on getting my business going.

My therapist tells me that I am doing everything I can to not be like my mother, so instead of dealing with the prospect of a relationship, I just shut that part of my life off all together.

Then again, I think my therapist has a bit of a wild imagination. It’s her job to analyze me and figure out my “coping mechanisms,” as she calls them.

I call them my “rules.” I live my life with a certain set of rules to keep me safe and grounded. I am comfortable with those rules. One of them, the most important, is no dating.

“So what are your plans today, Lils?” I asked while grabbing the broom to help sweep up the disaster of her cupcake adventure.

Her blonde curls bounced as she hopped and clapped her hands together. “Oh, I have an audition!”

Lily was an actress and had been fairly successful in the local theater scene.

“Oh yeah?” I leaned down to sweep my pile into the dustpan. “What play?”

“My Fair Lady!
I’m so excited!” she exclaimed. “What about you? Think you will disconnect from Facebook long enough to go outside today?”

My eyebrow raised. “Hey! I just came back inside!”

“Pshh. Your run around the park and trip to Buzzy’s hardly counts as going out,” she teased.

“Well, I’m working on a few projects that just came in, wrapping
up that logo request I had, and then I just got an inquiry for a new job with some new venue.”

“Oooh, nice. Make that money, sister! Whatcha doing later? Want to come to Legends with us?” Her big brown eyes looked at me pleadingly.

“Um, sure. I can do that. Who else is going?” I stood up and dusted the flour from the knees of my yoga pants.

“Me, Tom, Beatrice, Gus, and Mandy.” She said while counting the names on her fingers.

I squished up my nose at the mention of Mandy.

“I know, I know. But you know she and Gus are like... together...so she’s kind of, like, a necessary evil,” Lily said as if that excused it.

Mandy was horrid. She was from Connecticut and thought everyone below the Mason Dixon line was pure trash. She also had no problem telling you as much either. I’d had enough unpleasant run ins with her as is.

“Ugh. I get it, but really? Gus could do so much better! That girl is toxic!” I said, putting my hands on my hips.

She nodded in agreement. “I know, Ash. Believe me, we all know. But what can we do? Come on, we can ignore her and have a good time!”

I breathed out. “Okay. What time?”

She bounced again. “Yay! Let’s say 8?”

I nodded, and then pulled out my phone to check my notifications and emails. I walked over to the cabinet and pulled down a mug with one hand, scrolling through Instagram with the other. I set my mug in my Keurig and popped in a chai latte and pressed it to start.

My latte finished just as I got a ding for a new email.

Subject: RE: Graphics Work

I have some time Monday as well. Would 3pm work for you? We could meet at the venue it you want, or even at a coffee shop. Your choice
.

Looking forward to it
.

-B. Daley

I took my first sip of latte and then replied.

Subject: RE: Graphics Work

3pm would work great for me! I could come to the venue
.

It will give me an idea of your vision and also the atmosphere that I’m working with. Just shoot me the address and I’ll be there!

-Asha Harris

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and scooted past Lily, who was working on the dishes, to head upstairs to my office.

Our house was advertised as a three bedroom, but it was really a two bedroom. One of the bedrooms had an attached room, which was only accessible through one of the bedrooms. I took this room so I could claim the second room as my office. The entire back wall was exposed brick and there were high wood beams at the ceiling and large picture windows across the front and back walls. There were small window panes above that with stained glass. I loved our house, but I especially loved my room. It was my fortress and my safe haven.

Decorated in mostly white with tons of funky accent colors, it was feminine but fun. The centerpiece of the bedroom area of my room was my iron queen size bed. It had a white, fluffy down comforter and yellow scatter pillows. I wrapped pink twinkle lights through the headboard so when lit it was like a fun fairytale bed. Our closets were tiny and practically nonexistent so I also housed
two giant wardrobes that I had painted teal and then distressed on the opposite wall of my bed. Above the bed was a giant canvas with cherry blossom branches. Lily’s boyfriend Tom painted it for me in college. Next to my bed was a cheap Ikea nightstand that I painted yellow, putting a teal vase with fake cherry blossom branches popping out in the center.

I opened the French doors to my connecting office and set my latte down on my desk. I plugged my phone into my charger and then opened the door to my attached bathroom to turn on the water for the shower.

After collecting my clothes from my bedroom I walked back to the bathroom and stripped off my workout clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade all over me.

Nobody understood how something as simple as a shower could bring me such bliss, but most people hadn’t lived somewhere where showers were a luxury that didn’t exist. Bathing involved a bucket of dirty water and a rag. In fact, the hygiene habits of Americans was one of the biggest culture shocks to me after I arrived.

My dad had been so patient, and had made sure I had the best care to get me healthy and to a better place. I had so much dental work done the first year home that the thought of Novocain still made me shudder.

I scrubbed away the sweat from my morning run and turned off the water, stepping out into the bathroom to change.

Since I knew Lily would inevitably make me change before we went out, I had picked something casual to wear for the day. I slipped on my tan maxi dress and blue cardigan and brushed out my hair before going back to my office to get some work done.

I booted up my Mac and had started sipping on my now cold latte when I heard the truck pull up outside. It sputtered and
rumbled to a stop, but I was able to ignore it.

I started up Adobe Illustrator and started working on the logo design for a local bakery that I had been hired for. I pulled my legs up into my big office chair, pulling my knees to rest under my chin while I dragged and dropped parts of the design in front of me.

There was yelling and commotion outside for about ten minutes before I finally walked into the bedroom and peeked out the front window.

A moving truck sat right out front and the commotion I heard was the new neighbor moving in next door. I groaned loudly.

Since row houses are connected, I knew that if someone was moving in right next door they were going to be banging and making noise all morning.

“Damn,” I whispered.

I walked back into my office and pulled out my headphones. This was definitely Tweet worthy.

I put my headphones in and let Katy Perry distract me for about an hour. I was able to successfully finish the logo I was working on, but still had several more intricate projects to work on, and all I could hear, despite my blaring music, was banging and loud voices.

I slammed my hand down on my desk and decided that this was unacceptable. Who moves on a weekday in the middle of the day? A jerk, that’s who.

I grabbed my empty latte mug to deposit in the sink as I stormed down the stairs. I dropped off the mug in the kitchen and walked
past a bewildered Lily who was sitting in the living room reading on her Kindle.