Free Blurring the Lines by Mia Josephs Page B

down.
    She stepped into Jonah’s room, closing the door between them.
    His fingers twitched at the release he craved. Thought about checking the medicine cabinet for a Percocet or a Vicodin or the pantry for wine, or… He shook out his hands and rested his hand over his pocket to pull out his phone and call his sponsor, but stopped. They’d talk the following morning. He’d send her a text that night. Chris could get through. He just had to stay busy.
    He walked back toward the living room. The coffee table was littered with the crayons and papers from earlier that afternoon, and Chris sat on the couch, defeated.
    He ran his hands through his hair again and again.
    “Want tea?” Corinne asked as she pulled two mugs and set them on the counter.
    Time felt warped because he swore she’d just stepped into Jonah’s room, and at the same time it felt like a lifetime of want. It was a sure sign he might be headed to a bad place.
    “About before,” he started.
    Corinne froze, her back to him. “It’s not something I talk about. It’s not something I can talk about. Sometimes it all still hurts like it was yesterday.”
    “I just—”
    She spun and faced him over the counter. “Chris. Please. You’re writing. This is what you wanted. Let it go.”
    “I want to be friends. Shit…” He paused. “I sound like an idiot. Why can’t we blur that line a little? Between paid songwriter and friend?”
    “Because blurring one line, blurs other lines, and I just… Please . I’m okay with you here. I want you to be writing again. I’m okay with being part of that. I just… I have friends. I have family. I have people.”
    “I don’t.” The words left his mouth before he had time to stop them.
    Corinne paused in her movements, and he wondered if he’d accidentally played a dirty trick in getting her to sympathize with him. Her mouth opened as if she was going to say something, but she clamped it shut again.
    “I’m an asshole to my family because I didn’t know how to deal when my dad died. I pulled a ridiculously stereotypical rock star bullshit move and came to his funeral high on cocaine with a girl. My brother took care of my mom. Took care of everything, and I sat next to them high out of my mind with a girl I barely knew in ridiculously over-priced shoes I bought for her along with a bunch of other shit that I probably bought for her, and I haven’t talked to them since. My band were my friends, but they had to save their own asses, so when I bailed, we just don’t… It’s not the same.”
    Chris watched her for any sign that his words had affected her.
    Her face softened. “Quite a confession.”
    “Yeah...well…” He ran his hand through his hair again. “You’ve been just… I don’t even know how to explain how amazing you’ve been, so it throws me when you say we’re not friends. And I’m sorry if one night together makes you uncomfortable, but it doesn’t make me uncomfortable, and you’ve made it very clear we’re not going there again.” Chris was out of words and exhausted with feeling pathetic.
    Corinne rested her fingertips on her eyelids for a moment before pulling in a long breath. “We’re friends, Chris, but I don’t trust you.”
    Right. And why should she? Especially after his idiotic confession. “Smart move.”
    “So.” A corner of her mouth kicked up in a half smile. “Tea?”
    “Thanks.” For a million things he had no idea how to voice.

 
    SEVEN
     
    Corinne’s teeth ground together in her mother’s carefully wallpapered office. The sun reflected off the pale green pattern and the picture-perfectness of it infuriated her more. She stared at the photos on her mom’s computer screen as if they would save her from the conversation.
    Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she knew it would most likely be Heather, dying for a longer explanation than what Corinne had relayed in a text. Now was not the time.
    “The whole situation of this man in your house just