twenty seven

                                    

                                          
Cheater ((27))
                          
Jules. Jules. Jules.
                          
He needs Jules.
                          
He'd already went to get a coffee, hoping it would calm him down. It didn't.
                          
Without a second thought, Tristan turns out of the café parking lot, heading straight for Jules' place. In his anger and hurry to arrive, he completely forgets that the girl is on a vacation. He knows there is a flaw in his plan, but he doesn't care enough to try and remember. He needs Jules. She is all he is thinking about right now. He needs to be somewhere familiar, somewhere with zero trace of the traitor, and his girlfriends home is the only place he can find that.
                          
The lobby is empty when Tristan walks into the building, which he's grateful for. No one to stop him, no one to slow him down. He steps into the now-empty elevator just before it closes, pressing the close-door button continuously.
                          
I thought he understood. I thought he respected me and my relationship.
                          
He can't hear anything but his heart beat, the sound loud in his ears, and because of this he doesn't notice the elevator's ding when it gets to Jules' floor. But the doors slide open and he turns left, heading down the hall. 
                          
I thought he would leave it alone. I know Jules; she'd never do that to me. I thought he'd see that too.
                          
He finally reaches room 221A, and brings his fist down on the door repeatedly. Nothing. 
                          
He's an asshole! He doesn't care. How dare he write a song about something he assumed was happening? He doesn't know anything about my relationship!
                          
He continues to knock, again and again and again, and when each of them go unanswered, it finally clicks in his brain. She's on a trip with her family. She's not here.
                          
The blond grunts in annoyance, kicking the door. He shakes his head, and, knowing that he needs to calm down, he rests his head against the white wall, hands on either side of him.
                          
But he doesn't care about my relationship at all. Doesn't care about my loyal girlfriend.
                          
"Shit."
                          
Doesn't care about me.
                          
"Fuck!"
                          
He's an asshole.
                          
Tristan squeezes his eyes shut, trying to calm his thoughts. It doesn't work.
                          
Screw him.
                          
The boys face contorts in fury and he draws his fist back, launching it forward to punch the wall. But before he makes contact, something catches his eye. It's an envelope. It's tucked underneath the last door in the hallway, the one right next to Jules' place. He reaches down and picks it up, careful not to tear the paper, and reads what's written on the front.
                          
Bradley Will Simpson
Floor 2, Flat 220A
                          
"What the hell?" 
                          
While Tristan tries to figure out what this means, why there's an envelope with his band members name on it here, something pops into his mind – something he'd forgotten.
                          
~
"You know the building," Brad spoke into the cellphone, Connor on the line. "If you drop it off in the lobby, then you only have to write my name, floor, and room on the front. The guy knows me."
                          
There's some faint talking on the other end of the call.
                          
"Yeah," A smile stretches across Brad's face when he turns to face Tristan, and the blond averts his eyes, embarrassed that Bradley'd caught him staring. "Room 220A. Thanks, man."
~