Chapter 4 #4
I know what he wants. I should want it, too. That’s why I came here.
But my fingers tighten around my drink, and then I turn away from him. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”
He huffs in annoyance and then stalks away, knowing he’s not going to get what he wants from me tonight. What I should want from him.
Fuck.
As I stand there, berating myself for not taking him up on his offer, I drain the rest of my champagne and silently rage at my roommate.
My fingers rake through my hair just as his face flashes in my mind. I pull out my phone and stare at the screen, knowing I shouldn’t message him. But my thumbs move anyway, words forming before I can stop them.
I stare down at what I’ve written, then delete it.
I will not send that.
Absolutely not.
“What are you looking so sad about?” a deep voice asks from my left.
I glance over. The man before me is impeccably dressed. He’s holding a colorful and obviously expensive drink in his hand. The complete opposite of Caleb and his cheap beers.
“Nothing,” I reply, turning to face him.
I can do this. I can. I can bring him to the bathroom, push him to his knees, and let him get me off.
Just something to take the edge off. I need something.
“Seems like it’s something. Can I help you with it?”
The way he says that has my insides shuddering. It doesn’t appeal to me at all.
But I push through. “Perhaps.”
He grins and then waves the bartender over. “Maybe another drink will help. A little liquid courage?”
I nod, even though my stomach roils.
All I can think about is Caleb and how much I just want to be on the couch with him right now.
Fucking hell.
“Another?” Velvet asks, and I wince slightly.
Maybe I don’t want another. Maybe I just want to leave.
“Actually, sorry, but I’m good,” I say, realizing that this is all just a waste of time and money. I shouldn’t have come here. I should have done something else.
This was wrong.
It feels so fucking wrong.
“I’m actually going to close out.”
The man eyes me for a moment, then gives me a small, polite nod before drifting away into the crowd, just like the other guy.
He’s realized it, too.
I’m a lost cause.
I quickly pay and tip before pushing my credit card back into my wallet and moving out of the club. What was I thinking? Why was I even here when all I could think about was him?
I should have headed to the all-night coffee shop instead. I should have known better. Caleb has infected me with…something.
Plus, the coffee shop has a small backroom filled floor to ceiling with books. I can order a drink there, curl up on one of those torn chairs, and read.
In fact, that’s what I’ll do.
I slide into my car, turn on the engine, and drive. The farther I get, the less regret I feel.
This was the right choice.
I end up taking the long way to the coffee shop, music blaring from the speakers as I try to force Caleb from my mind.
But it’s fucking impossible. He’s rooted himself in me. His touch, the way he feels against me.
Heavy. Solid.
All-consuming.
I end up arriving at Midnight Grounds, haggard and exhausted, just wanting to go home, to crawl into my bed and disappear for a while.
I force myself to go in and order something. As I’m getting settled, my phone buzzes, and I pull it out, seeing Aunt Del’s name on the screen. This is becoming a strange habit, one I’m not sure I want her to break.
“Hey,” I say, my voice infused with affection. I can’t help it. She’s…nice to me.
“Hi, Whit. Just calling to say I was thinking of you. I was going to leave a message. I don’t always expect you to answer.”
“I don’t mind answering when I have time.”
She laughs softly. “Well, I just wanted to check in. How was your day?”
I tell her bits and pieces, leaving out Caleb and my venture to the gay club. When we hang up, I feel that odd feeling again.
And to be honest, I kind of like it.
I slump further into a chair, a book open but unread in my lap, hot tea cooling in my hand.
My mind drifts from the present to the past, to futures I can’t quite picture, until I finally slip into sleep.
No one wakes me. They just leave me be.
When I finally come to, I realize it’s dawn. Fuck. I can’t believe I spent the night in a coffee shop.
I’m losing my mind.
I pack up, keeping my head down as I exit, stuffing a hundred-dollar bill in the tip jar.
This isn’t a hostel, but I sure treated it as such.
If they only knew what I was fleeing from.
The man haunting my dreams.
My every waking moment.
I nearly barrel into my nightmare as he rushes from the apartment. He looks good in a beanie and sweatshirt, casual in that way that shouldn’t matter but somehow does. Does that even make sense? I don’t know anymore. My heart rushes with excitement the moment I see him.
His blue gaze catches mine, and his cheeks pinken.
“Heading out,” he says, turning his gaze away from me.
“Okay,” I manage to say, my voice slightly raspy. He has this effect on me.
There’s nothing I can do to change how I react to him. It seems inherent at this point.
The door closes behind me, and I slump against it. I’m exhausted. I should have just come home last night. I should have slept in my own bed, or at least attempted to. Right now, my neck hurts, and I know I need a long shower.
That’s made even clearer when I see my rumpled state in the mirror. I look terrible. No wonder Caleb didn’t want to look at me. I don’t even want to look at myself.
So I shower, standing under the stream a little too long, letting my mind whirl in the worst ways, scrubbing soap over my pale skin a little too long.
And when I step from the steaming bathroom, I realize Caleb still isn’t here.
Picking up my phone, I message him. We’re leaving later today to go to his aunt and uncle’s. But of course, he doesn’t seem to have any plans for when we’ll head out. He seems like the kind of guy who wings most things.
Me:
When will we leave today?
He doesn’t answer, and I feel my mood plummet slightly at his blatant disregard for me. After crawling onto my lap and pushing his nose against my neck.
But this is what I wanted.
I wanted space, and I got it.
Fuck.
I end up attempting to complete assignments in the peace and quiet of my apartment, but end up obsessively wondering where Caleb ended up.
Is he with someone else?
Someone who can give him what he wants?
That thought makes me ridiculously upset.
I find out a few hours later where he was this entire time when Caleb barrels into the apartment with Magnus slung over his shoulder.
Something akin to jealousy roars through me.
When he sees me staring at him, he happily says, “I made a new friend.”
He sets Magnus down on the floor, and thankfully, my friend appears to look ashamed—as he should. Caleb is my roommate. Not his.
“Hi, Whit,” Magnus says softly, and I nod at him, afraid that if I open my mouth, I may say something I’ll regret. Something that will give away what I’m feeling.
I do, however, turn my gaze to Caleb and nod toward the bedroom. “I’d like to speak to you.”
He ignores me, though, and walks to the fridge, grabbing two beers from it. They clink as he makes his way back to Magnus. This is outrageous, seeing as it’s still the morning. He’s a heathen.
But he doesn’t seem to care. He hands a beer to Magnus, who obviously has no idea what to do with it. Caleb grins at him, flicks the cap off, and I watch as it falls to the floor. My eye twitches slightly as I tuck my hair behind my ear.
Caleb peers over at me, and something in my face has him letting out a sigh.
“Okay, Mag, just get a game started. I’ll be right back.
” Magnus once more looks slightly unsure what to do, but sits on the couch and picks up a controller.
Then Caleb moves toward me, and I see his gaze flick down to my lips for a moment.
He has no right to look at me like that.
Not when he showed up with Magnus—in our apartment.
My heart rate ratchets up as I turn and move toward the bedroom, my fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on my thighs. I don’t know what I’m about to say, or what will happen, but I’m exhausted, and something unsettling is unfurling in my gut.
Something that shouldn’t be there at all.
As soon as we’re away from prying eyes, Caleb holds up his beer bottle, and his thumb drags across the capped rim. I stare at it, knowing what he wants to do with it.
“If you drop that cap on the floor—” I hiss, and Caleb’s gaze flicks up to mine. Something swims in those depths, something I only dream about.
“You’ll what?” he asks, his voice dripping with curiosity.
My eyes narrow as he wets his pink, plump lips and twists it off. It dangles in his fingers, hovering over the floor.
I want to push him against the wall, spin him around, drag his pants down those thick thighs, and slap that ass. I want to teach him a fucking lesson. To stop messing up my apartment, my room, my mind.
I need some fucking peace.
That all must show on my face once more because he lets out a shaky breath and pockets the cap before I can act on my fantasy. Not that I would.
I fucking won’t.
Not with Magnus in the other room.
I clench my fists at my sides as I try to focus. I asked him in here for a reason.
“What’s going on? Why is Magnus here?”
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I invited him to hang.”
“Why?”
“Because we ran into each other.”
“And where did you run into each other?”
“The coffee shop. You interrogating me now, Sherlock?”
I fold my arms across my chest, and my gaze locks in on him. I don’t know why I can’t stop asking questions, but my mouth won’t stop moving.
“And you just happened to have a conversation with the guy who is terrified of you and then invited him over to hang out?”
He scratches at his jaw, the sound of it making me shiver slightly, and he shrugs again. “He came up to me. Started sniffling and looking like a lost puppy. I felt sorry for him. He’s so…fragile.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh at that. Magnus, fragile? No, he’s not. He’s so much stronger than he looks.