Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
The loud slam of a door jolts me awake, my heart pounding from the sudden noise. I hear a muffled ‘fuck’ from somewhere in the apartment, and I groan, squeezing my eyes shut as if I can ward off the headache forming at my temples.
A moment later, the mattress dips beside me, and I slowly pry my eyes open, my lids sticky with makeup I didn’t bother to remove last night. I blink at the blurry shape above me until it comes into focus.
Hottie is leaning over me, a grin on his handsome face. “Good morning, sunshine,” he says, all too cheery for whatever time it is.
I mutter something incoherent along the lines of, “Why are you still here?”
His grin falters a bit, but he pushes on, holding up a cup of coffee and a small paper bag. “Got us breakfast.”
I sit up, the sheets pooling around my waist, and I notice his eyes drop to my chest, lingering there before he swallows hard, forcing himself to look at my face. It almost makes me laugh.
Instead, I take the coffee from his hand, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. “I need a shower,” I mumble, sliding out of bed. His gaze follows me, and this time, he doesn’t even try to look away from my naked body. His eyes darken as they travel over my glitter-covered skin.
Then he stands, too, following me out of the room and asking, “How do you feel?”
I don’t answer and when I reach the bathroom, I push the door closed behind me. I hear the soft thud as it connects with his face, followed by a surprised yelp.
Whoops.
I lock it for good measure.
There’s still condensation in the bathroom, so he probably showered before he went out and got us breakfast, and I don’t know how to feel about him feeling so at home here.
“Did you sleep all right?” he calls from the other side, muffled. I sigh, taking a sip of the coffee. It’s too strong and bitter. I set it on the counter and turn on the shower. “You got any plans today?” he tries again when I don’t answer.
Fuck, he’s clingy.
I step under the hot spray, letting the water run over me, washing away the remnants of makeup, glitter, and his scent, which clings stubbornly to my skin.
The steam fills the small bathroom, the scent of my candy-sweet body wash mixing with it, and I inhale deeply, closing my eyes as I try to shake off the fog of sleep and the headache throbbing in my skull.
Thoroughly scrubbed, I step out of the shower and grab a towel, slowly drying off.
I glance at my reflection in the mirror—blank-eyed, naked, and stripped of all that usually armors me.
The rawness of it makes me think of Rosalee, and before I can stop myself, I whisper to her, “I fucked up, didn’t I? ”
Of course, she doesn’t answer because it’s just me.
I dread facing Hottie and having to kick him out. I thought maybe I could keep him around for when I need to get off, but if he were that type, he’d be gone by now, not waiting outside my bathroom door with fucking breakfast.
He shifts outside the door, then he tries again, “Do you like croissants? I didn’t know how you take your coffee.
It’s black, but I have sugar and cream out here if you need them.
” Not answering, I focus on brushing my teeth instead.
He doesn’t seem to care, though, because he keeps talking.
“The croissants are pretty good. I got them from the bakery before you head into Chinatown, you know, that big pink one?” His voice is a low hum through the door as I finish and move on to brushing out my damp hair.
“It’s only a couple minutes from the sushi spot I’m kind of addicted to.
” I run a comb through my hair when his tone shifts, becoming softer.
“I’d love to take you some time. I mean, if you eat fish. Do you like sushi?”
That’s enough.
Putting the comb down, I unlock and pull open the bathroom door, which he seems to have been sitting against. He falls backward, his back hitting the floor as the door swings open. He looks up at me, flat on his back, that stupid grin on his face. “Hey there.”
I stare down at him, my hair still dripping water onto the floor, my towel barely clinging to my body. He doesn’t move, lying there, grinning like an idiot, and I don’t know whether to laugh or kick him out right then and there.
God, he’s cute.
He scrambles to his feet and comes to stand in front of me, his grin faltering for a split second before his eyes go wide.
“Wow…” he breathes out. “You’re even more beautiful without all the glitter and gleam.
It’s…” his gaze traces over my stripped features, and he swallows before continuing, “… like seeing a star stripped of all the lights around it… pure, beautiful essence.”
Despite the absurdity of his words, I weaken a bit.
Ugh.
“Why are you still here?” I ask tiredly and maybe a little blunter than I intended.
He hesitates, then holds up the bag of aforementioned croissants like it’s a peace offering. “I thought we could… I don’t know, eat breakfast. Spend some time together. Maybe talk a bit? I’d like to get to know you more.”
“Why?”
He blinks, looking genuinely confused. “Because… you said we’re friends?”
He says it like a question, and I scoff in answer as I cross my arms. “I never said that.”
Did I?
“You said I’m the closest you have to one.
Well, besides Belle.” I open my mouth to argue, but the words stall in my throat, and before I can think of something to say, he steps closer, his brow furrowing as his gaze drops to my shoulder.
When he reaches out to touch the burn scar there, his fingers are gentle as they graze over the rough skin. “What happened here?”
I flick my gaze to his fingers on the scar, the reminder of the night that destroyed everything, and the weight of the past crashes down on me so intensely that I can almost smell burned skin.
The utter helplessness as everything I loved was ripped away from me.
I snap my gaze back to his before jerking away from his touch, my chest overwhelmed with grief.
“Don’t touch me,” I almost growl.
He steps back instantly, his eyes wide, his hands up in surrender. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think—”
“Leave!”
“Baby—” His eyes search mine, clearly at a loss.
“I said leave!” Turning on my heel, I storm into my bedroom. When I grab the doorknob, ready to slam it in his face, he’s already shoving his way in before I can shut him out. “What don’t you understand about the word leave?” I hiss.
I need him gone.
Like now.
“Nope, uh-uh,” he says with a head shake.
“We’re not doing this again. I stumbled on another trigger, and I’m sorry.
Me fucking up, you going off and kicking me out, only for me to overthink everything and come back for you two days later?
That won’t happen again.” I glare at him, but he continues, “I would do it. I absolutely would. But let’s cut the time of us being apart and overthinking this and talk it out. ”
I don’t say anything, and with every moment of silence that passes, the room feels smaller, and his presence becomes more overwhelming.
My gaze eventually drops to his feet, bare on my bedroom floor.
He has a fucking smiley face tattoo on top of his left one, grinning at me as stupidly as he always does, and there’s something so real about him standing there, unguarded, so open to being hurt by me.
It makes me want to scream.
Why can’t he just leave when I tell him to?
Why can’t he make this easy?
“I’m not here to hurt you, Sparkle.” I watch as his smiling foot takes a hesitant step toward me.
“I’m sorry that I seem to always stumble over stuff.
I’m here because I like you. Because I want to be here.
I know you don’t want anything serious, and that’s fine.
I’m not asking for a promise or a commitment. I… I want to be here. With you.”
I swallow against my tightening throat. “Why?”
It’s not as though I’ve given him anything that would make him want to stick around besides good sex. But everything about this moment feels more than about sex. That thought alone makes my skin itch.
I finally glance up at him just as his brows draw together, and I see something in his eyes—a flicker of pain as he answers. “Why wouldn’t I?”
I hate this. I hate the way he’s looking at me like I’m something worth staying for.
I’m not.
Ace thought I was. He wanted to be with me. He said it’d be forever, and then forever ended in an instant.
Being with me killed him.
“I don’t need anyone,” I reply coldly. “I don’t need you coming in here and acting like you can make it all better. You can’t.”
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t run, doesn’t leave like I expect him to. He only looks at me, his eyes soft as he takes a breath as if steadying himself. “I know I can’t make it… whatever it is… better. I’m not here to fix stuff.”
His words catch me off guard, and the fight leaves me. My shoulders sag from long-held exhaustion. I’m so tired. So fucking tired of fighting.
I look away when my eyes start to burn, and I hate myself for it. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear.
He reaches out, his fingers hesitantly brushing against mine, but I don’t pull away. “You don’t have to do anything. Just… let me stay. We can have breakfast, talk about nothing, really, and if it’s too much, I’ll leave. Just eat breakfast with me, Sparkle.”
I close my eyes and swallow thickly, trying to shut out the emotions swirling inside me.
When I open them again, he has that stupid, hopeful look in his eyes, and the familiar war rages inside me all over again.
A battle between the instinct to push everyone away, to protect them and me, and the desperate, pathetic part of me that craves warmth and connection, something to keep the emptiness at bay.
And just like that, my stubbornness loses the fight.
Seems it always does when it comes to him.
“Fine. Breakfast.”
He smiles, and it’s so genuine that my heart physically aches.