(no subject)
It had been a long twenty-four hours.
Seeing Rachel had been his first priority, once he'd climbed out of the pit of despair he'd fallen into the moment Paul had walked out the door. That had been enough to make him feel better. At least for a while. He'd hugged her, gotten an eye roll and a laugh out of her, and then they'd talked about school and the fact that, apparently, he'd quit his job with Vance and had been applying at every decent architecture firm in LA. No luck, yet, but Rachel had been adamant that it was only a matter of time.
Funny thing was, he actually believed her.
She'd mentioned Summer, in passing, but it had gotten no more than a shrug out of him, and he realized he hardly ever thought of her anymore. It had been on the tip of his tongue to tell Rachel everything. About the island. About Paul. About the engagement, but she'd been late to soccer practice, and there's no way he could've kept a story like that short.
That night, he'd gone to The Mill with Mackenzie, to drown his sorrows, and honestly, even though it was good to see the guy, it wasn't an experience he wanted to relive any time soon. In the morning, he woke up hungover, with an interview scheduled for that afternoon, written in red pencil on his planner and circled three times.
He'd put on a suit, he'd packed up his portfolio, and with an hour to spare, he went to the Plaza, sitting down on his regular bench and twisting mindlessly at the wire ring on his finger.
If this was the life he had to live from now on... Maybe he could do that. But no matter how much he tried, it just didn't feel like home. Not anymore.
Seeing Rachel had been his first priority, once he'd climbed out of the pit of despair he'd fallen into the moment Paul had walked out the door. That had been enough to make him feel better. At least for a while. He'd hugged her, gotten an eye roll and a laugh out of her, and then they'd talked about school and the fact that, apparently, he'd quit his job with Vance and had been applying at every decent architecture firm in LA. No luck, yet, but Rachel had been adamant that it was only a matter of time.
Funny thing was, he actually believed her.
She'd mentioned Summer, in passing, but it had gotten no more than a shrug out of him, and he realized he hardly ever thought of her anymore. It had been on the tip of his tongue to tell Rachel everything. About the island. About Paul. About the engagement, but she'd been late to soccer practice, and there's no way he could've kept a story like that short.
That night, he'd gone to The Mill with Mackenzie, to drown his sorrows, and honestly, even though it was good to see the guy, it wasn't an experience he wanted to relive any time soon. In the morning, he woke up hungover, with an interview scheduled for that afternoon, written in red pencil on his planner and circled three times.
He'd put on a suit, he'd packed up his portfolio, and with an hour to spare, he went to the Plaza, sitting down on his regular bench and twisting mindlessly at the wire ring on his finger.
If this was the life he had to live from now on... Maybe he could do that. But no matter how much he tried, it just didn't feel like home. Not anymore.