Chasing Destiny by J.D. Rivera Page B

toward the wall and movements slow. Then I realized the smell was not going to attack me and I looked ridiculous. I shuffled through the contents, trying to find what was causing the funk, and found that fucker as soon as I moved the milk.
    “Ugh,” I moaned, keeping my shirt in place, “this is fucking putrid.” I couldn’t tell what it used to be, I just knew whatever it was, it was the culprit. I picked up the bowl and immediately had to choke down the bile rising in my throat. The smell was horrendous.
    “What’s wrong with you?” Kristin asked as she stepped inside the apartment and closed the door.
    “This,” I replied, still keeping my nose covered as I lifted the bowl. “Shit! I think this has been in there since Miranda lived here.” Maybe I was exaggerating, but only a little.
    “Gross! What is that?”
    “I don’t know, but I’m taking the bowl to the dumpster and tossing the whole thing. I don’t want to eat off something that had whatever
that
was in it.”
    “Good,” she replied as I walked closer and waved it in her face. She scrunched her nose and tried to bat my arm away. “Stop it, jackass!”
    I chuckled as I continued walking out the door and across the parking lot to where the dumpster was located. I tossed the bowl and it shattered into tiny pieces before I turned and walked back to the apartment.
    Uncovering my nose, I took several deep breaths of fresh air. I needed a bleach bath for my nostrils. Once I could no longer smell the lingering effects of the rotten food, I opened the door and walked back inside. Kristin was waving a can of Oust around, spraying it all over the kitchen, and judging by the strong scent, she had already covered the living room.
    “I think that’s enough,” I coughed, waving my hand through the air. She was beginning to make a fog.
    She turned toward me and let her finger drift off the nozzle. “You think? That was awful.”
    “Yeah,” I replied, flopping down on the couch. “In fact, now I’m worried we may need to stay somewhere else. You basically fumigated the place.”
    “It’s not that bad!” she said as she slammed the can on the kitchen counter.
    I gave her a look that let her know I was right, then let my head fall backward to rest on the couch, breathing a big sigh. Now that my stomach had settled from the smell, I was back to starving. “Want to go with me to the grocery store? I’m going to die from starvation. And this place needs to air out. My eyes are starting to burn.”
    “ Whatever. ”  She glanced back toward the fridge and I prayed she wouldn’t open it. “I guess. I don’t have anything else going on.”
    I stood up and stepped closer to the door. “Come on then,” I said, turning the knob. Kristin followed and we walked toward my truck. “Doing anything later?”
    “Not that I know of,” she said before we both opened the doors and got inside.
    “I want to take you somewhere when we get back.”
    “Okay.” She glanced toward the right. “I don’t know anything about bikes, but I like that one. I bet the owner is hot.”
    I chuckled and nodded. She had no fucking idea. “Probably. Or an old man with a Santa beard and grease stained skin.”
    “Can I pick the music?” she asked with puppy dog eyes.
    “Sure.” I tossed my phone into her lap. “It’s all yours.”
    I began driving away as she scrolled through my music. A minute later,
Under the Bridge
by the Red Hot Chili Peppers began pouring from the speakers. “Good choice.”
    “I know.” Kristin began belting out the lyrics, and I wished I had my guitar on me. Better yet, I wished I had my drum kit so I could show Kristin another one of my many talents.
Why the hell do I want to show Kristin my talents? I’m being a douche.
    After the song stopped, she chose Justin Moore’s
You Look Like I Need a Drink
. Obviously Kristin was just as eclectic in her musical tastes as I was. I already knew this, but within the last week it was as if I was seeing