35. Haven
Chapter 35
Haven
My back thuds into the wall beside the front door of Bastian’s house.
“I ate too much,” I whine, my hand on my belly like I’m waiting to feel my food baby kick.
“No one was force feeding you.”
“It’s still your fault. You shouldn’t have made the food taste so good.”
“Nothing but dried toast next time.”
I glare over at him in his neatly pressed clothes as he joins me at the door. He stops to pick up his wallet and car keys, slinging his satchel over his shoulder. Every movement precise, no hesitation. Was that tea in his tumbler last night?
“You don’t even look hungover.”
“Oh, baby, if you only knew how my head felt.” He grimaces. “Fuck. Okay.” Bastian holds up his hand. “I’m going to stop saying things like, gosh, that was inappropriate. We’re way, way past that fucking point.”
His eyes meet mine briefly before flicking away, like he can’t bear looking at me.
My shoulders tense, and I drop my gaze.
He’s right.
I passed out on his couch last night.
Somewhere between eating chocolates and him shaking me awake, I took off my underwear and left it in the bathroom. I also wiped most of my makeup off.
I don’t remember any of it.
“I’m never going to drink again,” I mutter, leaning my head on my forearm as I wait for him to open the front door.
I keep trying to tell him I’m in no state to go to school, but he just keeps saying things like “Just one foot in front of the other,” and, “You’re stronger than you think you are.”
I’m pretty sure he just wants me the hell out of his house.
This isn’t a good look for him. Herding a trashed student out of his home at eight in the morning? Maybe that’s why he lives all the way out here.
No witnesses.
He goes to open the Tesla, and I veer toward it, squinting up at the sun like it’s purposefully on kill mode.
I head for the passenger door, but it doesn’t open when I tug on the handle.
“Yo,” I call out. Rap my knuckle on the glass. “Open, please.”
He stares at me over the top of his car. “You’re not driving with me.”
“Sorry, what the fuck now?” I close one eye as I drag hair out of my face with a swipe of my hand. I’m leaning against the car, because it’s that or slide to the ground.
“Christ…” He stares at me for such a long time, I look around for a place to sit because I’m feeling woozy. “Okay, fuck it. Come here.”
He holds out a hand, flicking his hand at me, an annoyed twist to his mouth. “How’d you let yourself get this drunk, anyway?”
“You were supposed to cut me off,” I say, holding up a finger.
“And you’re supposed to know your own limits,” he snaps.
“Hey! I’m new to this whole…” I hold out my arm. “Alcoholic thing.”
“Are you still drunk?” He double-times around the car, grabbing my wrist and jerking me to face him.
“Fuck. Ow.” I stare blearily up at him. “Yessir. Maybe?” Then I close one eye, because it seems to stop the world spinning. “How does one tell?”
He takes a big breath, and then scrapes his fingers over his scalp. “Okay, okay. Here.” He takes his phone out of his pocket, and taps on it a few times. “Go inside, get some sleep. I’ll be back at noon to collect you.”
“Collect me where?”
His impatient sigh sounds like an old-school teakettle. “Just…go sleep it off.” With a flick of his hand, he dismisses me. “Go on. And drink lots of water.”
“Sleep. Water.” I head for his house, sticking my thumb up into the air. “Gotcha.”
“Guess I’ll do this myself then,” I hear him mumble as I slip back into his house.
But my mind is entirely focused on getting into his warm, soft, silky bed. I make two detours though. The first, to fetch a big glass of water from the kitchen. And the second, to pluck a t-shirt from his closet.
The water goes on the nightstand, the t-shirt goes over my head. A second later, my bra is on the floor, and my ass is under the sheets.
I don’t remember falling asleep.
I’m woken by a thud that jerks me awake. I gasp, pushing onto my elbows as I stare at the window where the sound came from.
There’s a dark smudge on the glass.
My entire body tenses as I drag my gaze down, down…
Uncle Lenny flashes me a lurid grin and then scuttles away on all fours like a fucking spider.
I sit up with a strangled scream, the sheets falling into my lap. My heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s going to explode from my chest. I whip my head to stare at the glass, but there’s nothing there.
No smudge.
No dead bird.
No Uncle Lenny.
I drag my legs up, resting my elbows on my knees as I wrap my arms around my head.
It feels like someone’s trying to chime my skull like the Liberty Bell.
And that’s before I start sobbing.
But I only let it go on for a minute or two before I drag myself back toward myself. I slap my face a few times, swipe tears out of my eyes, and force a calm breath deep into my lungs.
That dreadful phase of my life is over. It didn’t kill me, it only made me stronger. So enough with the crying and the feeling sorry for myself.
I turn back to the window, doing another check, just in case.
A jolt of panic goes through me when I realize it’s twilight outside.
I’ve been sleeping the whole day?
Where is Bastian?
Did he come back and?—
The bathroom door slides back on its hinges, and Bastian steps out wearing a towel…and nothing else.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus.
He’s staring at his phone, so he hasn’t even noticed that I’m awake yet. Which means I have all the time in the world to ogle his toned arms, his slim waist, the thin trail of dark hair that narrows to a path heading straight for his?—
“Oh, good. You’re up.”
My gaze flicks to his eyes. They’re crinkled at the corners, mirroring his warm smile.
“Was wondering where I’d bury your body.”
My laugh is uneasy, but not because of his stupid joke. I can feel how hot my face is, how puffy my eyes are.
And someone as intelligent and observant as Professor Rooke doesn’t miss those cues.
“Haven…have you been crying?”
“No.” I turn away, and then shuffle to the edge of the bed so I can stand up and avoid further interrogation.
Unfortunately, the hungover, half drunk fool who’d possessed my body this morning had decided it would be a good idea to only come to bed in a t-shirt and underwear.
Bastian’s much taller than me, but his t-shirt barely reaches past my ass. And while his t-shirt smells glorious, feels glorious, and might even look glorious draping off me like a night-shirt, if you’re into that kind of thing, there’s no way I’m letting my professor see me half naked.
Even though, technically, it would make us even at this point.
Even though, technically, I was in the wrong for putting on his clothes in the first place. Although…was I? I’m in his house, in his bed. I’ve eaten his food, drunk his wine, gotten drunk on his wine.
I’m pretty drunk on him, actually. Like DUI levels of intoxicated.
Maybe I want him to see me half-naked.
Maybe I want him to see me all-the-way naked.
Maybe I want him to show me the calculations on how he came up with the answer that I thought chocolate was better than sex because I wasn’t doing it right .
But I’m supposed to be keeping my head down and doing well at school, not sleeping with one of my professors.
So nope.
Standing up is not an option.
I drag the sheets around my middle, trying to be inconspicuous about it.
Shouldn’t have bothered.
Bastian is more concerned with my tear-stained face than my exposed ass.
He pads over to my side of the bed and drops to a crouch in front of me.
“Talk to me.” The intensity in his eyes is too much to handle, so I look away.
“I had a bad dream, is all,” I mumble.
Tears are threatening again, because no one’s ever seen me like this.
Except Kai, of course.
Bastian tucks my hair behind my ear. “Repressed trauma can often?—”
“Oh shut the fuck up!” I snap, knocking away his hand with my arm.
My hand flies over my mouth, then slides up to my eyes. “Shit, sorry.”
Bastian grabs my thigh through the sheets bundled in my waist. “Haven, it’s okay. I told you, I was a therapist. I’ve seen it all. I know you’re not angry at me. You’re just?—“
I keep my hands over my eyes, because it makes it easier. “I am angry at you,” I whisper. “I don’t know how to make this any clearer, Professor. I don’t want to talk about my past, and I certainly don’t want you psychoanalyzing me every five seconds, either. Stop pushing. Stop prying .”
The weight of his hand disappears.
I make the mistake of looking, thinking he’s walked away. But he’s standing right in front of me, and I get an eyeful of the bulge behind his towel before I can turn away.
Now my hand is over my mouth, simultaneously aghast and repressing a wicked smile.
That was a large bulge.
Intimidatingly so.
“Can you drive stick?” he grates out.
I look up at him so fast I almost give myself whiplash. “What?”
He rakes a hand through his hair, frowning. “What?”
Oh. I get it now. Stick…as in stick shift.
No. Wait.
I don’t get it.
“How long does a hangover last?” I ask, staring at the Land Rover. “Because I’m really struggling with the math here.”
Bastian slams the trunk closed and turns to frown at me.
“What’s the issue, Haven?” He holds out a pair of keys. “Get in and follow me back to college.” His brow furrows. “You’re not night blind, are you?”
I scoff. “What? No.” I reluctantly take the keys when he jingles them at me. “But I can’t do this.”
“Which part? Drive? Follow me? Get in the car?” He’s losing his patience, though I’m surprised he has any left at this stage. First, he has to put up with me in his space all day, and now I’m balking at what seems to be an incredibly generous offer for me to use his spare car.
“I can’t accept this. It’s too much.” I try to give him back his keys, but he ignores my hand.
“And I can’t stand the thought of you spending another minute driving that deathtrap around, so I suppose we’re at an impasse.”
“Deathtrap?” I shake my head. “Your house is a deathtrap.”
There’s such a sudden, ferocious light in his eyes that my entire clenches up. “What?”
“A bird hit your window. It’s dead now.”
At least, I think it is. Its body is gone. Maybe it survived and flew away. Or maybe it was never there to begin with.
Bastian looks away, sighing. “Yeah. Shit. The angle of the light is just right sometimes. The tint’s supposed to stop it happening, but I guess they can’t always tell what’s real and what’s just a reflection.”
Oh thank God. I don’t need to add hallucinations to my growing list of problems.
“Please.” I hold out the keys again, hoping this time he’ll take them. “I know it looks like shit, but my car is fine. I don’t need you to give me a car.”
“I’m not giving you the Landie,” Bastian says, frowning again. “It’s a loan until the end of the semester.” He glances back, waves an irritable hand toward the garage. “Saves me having to keep it on a trickle charge to stop the battery going flat.”
“If you don’t use it, then why do you still have it?”
I don’t expect him to answer me. I’m just stalling so I can try to think of another excuse not to accept this car. Because he can paint it however he wants, but it’s another gift. And while the concealer and ointment were practical, and the chocolates were yummy…this?
This feels like entrapment.
“In case there’s a terror attack,” he mutters, as though he doesn’t actually want me to hear his answer.
A laugh bursts out of me so fast, I clap a hand over my mouth.
He narrows his eyes at me. “An EMP can disable anything with a circuit board. That includes my Tesla. If there’s a strike, I want to get the hell out of this state.” He claps a hand against the back of the Land Rover’s boxy frame. “Post apocalypse? It’ll be this guy, the cockroaches, and Keith Richards.”
“Who’s Keith Richards?”
“Jesus Christ.” He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, and then goes to his Tesla, shaking his head the whole way. “Stop reminding me how old I am!” He pauses by his door to point a finger at me.
I point one right back at him. “Gotta keep you humble, Sir!”
He faces away, laughing as he climbs into his car.
I bounce the keys on my hand, then stare over at him as he reverses. When he sees me just standing there, he rolls down his window and sticks his head out of the car.
It’s a surreal moment. Another one of those snapshots, right on the cusp of something new.
Good? Bad? I don’t know yet.
He changed into a black t-shirt and dark wash jeans. I guess he was going for casual, but now the contrast between his pale skin and dark hair is that much starker.
That much sexier .
He doesn’t seem to feel the chill in the early evening air. The clouds will start building up again soon. And then comes the rain. Days and days without end, until the Agony River floods and washes away all the bullshit that’s collected over the past year.
I used to wish it would wash me away, too. Shouldn’t even have been out of the house by myself at that age, definitely not that close to a speeding river, but even my young, tender mind had accepted the fact that no one gave a shit about me. I’d throw sticks into the river and watch them being swept away, giggling when they disappeared until the frothy waves.
Even put my foot in a few times, amazed at how hard the water tugged at my leg. All it would have taken was one misplaced step. One swell. And little Haven Lee would have washed up on the shore a few days later, limp and blue-lipped, a broken doll no one had wanted to play with anymore.
But then I met Kai.
I never went back to those white-flecked waters.
He made me feel special. He made me feel wanted. Even though it sometimes hurt when he played with me.
Feeling something was better than feeling nothing.
“Are you coming?”
I kick a stone lying on the ground near my foot. “Could’ve let me drive the Tesla.”
He barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “We are definitely not there yet, sweet girl. Definitely not.”