Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
DAKOTA
Back at Micah’s place again, all my tiredness was hitting me like a wave.
I could barely keep my eyes open long enough to get inside the house.
It wasn’t even particularly late yet; I was just exhausted from the constant stress plaguing me, all the relationship anxiety, the lingering knowledge in the back of my mind that I was neglecting all my classes.
I wonder if I’ll feel like this forever.
Micah helped me take off my jeans and sweater, then I climbed into his bed in my pajamas as he went downstairs to fill my water bottle. Obviously, he hadn’t actually ordered food.
“I wish you would’ve let me finish my movie,” I said when Micah came back into his bedroom. He set my water bottle on the nightstand along with a pack of makeup-remover wipes and some Aquaphor. My chest ached a bit as I thanked him for bringing everything up—without me asking.
“What movie?”
“New Moon.”
“Ah. I haven’t seen that.” He grabbed the remote from inside his nightstand drawer and turned on the TV that was on a console across from the bed.
“Have you seen any movies at all, ever?”
“I’m not a huge movie person.”
I watched him clicking buttons on the remote as I wiped my makeup off with a wipe. “Then why do we watch so many movies?”
“I thought you liked them.”
“I do like them.”
He looked over at me, the glow of the TV making his expression seem slightly softer. “Then that’s why we watch them,” he said, like it should’ve been obvious to me.
He didn’t understand how unaccustomed I was to people considering what I liked or wanted.
I’d grown up without a voice, without anybody other than Anthony ever noticing me.
I felt bad thinking like that sometimes, because I knew my mom loved me, and maybe she was trying her best. But her best still left me feeling ignored and alone almost every day of my life.
I didn’t necessarily blame her, though. My father was a fucking nightmare, and ninety-nine percent of the time, all that terror had been focused on her.
“Well, I’m going to fall asleep. You don’t need to rent the movie now.”
“I’m renting it. You can finish it in the morning if you fall asleep.
” He sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping his stare focused on the TV.
His expression was tense, and while I could think of many typical reasons why that might be, none of them felt correct tonight.
“Some background noise for you to dream to.”
“Do you ever sleep with the TV on?” I dared to ask quietly, pulling the comforter up under my chin.
“No.” He cleared his throat. Discreetly, I stole another glance at him. He looked tired, and maybe a bit distracted.
“Oh. Okay.” I scooted across the mattress toward him, still under the covers, then reached my hand out and set it on his thigh.
Instantly, he snatched my wrist.
“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, so quickly it startled me. I recoiled, bringing my wrist to my chest as my heart pounded painfully on my sternum.
Blinking away the sudden sting in my eyes, I rolled back onto my side of the bed. “I’m sorry.” My voice was soft, almost inaudible, my lower lip trembling.
“Goodnight,” Micah said and dropped the remote, then left the room without looking back at me. I clutched the remote with both hands, staring wide-eyed at the closed door to his bedroom, desperately praying for him to come right back.
After several long minutes of waiting, it became clear Micah wasn’t returning any time soon.
I wiped my eyes and set the remote on the nightstand, laying on my side so I could see out the window while the movie played on in the background.
The blinds were tilted up so I could see the sky and the tops of the trees swaying in the wind.
When I’d gotten into this bed a few minutes ago, I could barely stay awake.
Now, I had no clue how I was supposed to ever fall asleep.
Flipping over onto my other side, I breathed shakily, my face pressed to the pillow as I stared at the darkness of his bedroom, the soft light of the TV flickering over it. The blankets were all twisted around my body now, holding me trapped, but I didn’t try to free myself. My eyes blinked slowly.
Don’t touch me.
Nausea turned in my stomach, thorns wrapping around my throat.
I didn’t understand him. Didn’t understand how he could be so angry at me, but never stop caring for me, never stop trying to keep me safe.
I didn’t deserve that from him. Tonight, I’d tried to sneak out of his house by myself when he was supposed to be picking food up for me, which was really fucking stupid.
He should’ve let me get whatever was coming to me for that, but he didn’t.
My fingers curled in the sheets, gripping the fabric tight.
Persistent heaviness hung over me, a steady weight, an oppressive shadow.
Without giving myself another second to think about it, I crawled out of bed and tiptoed out of his bedroom towards the stairs. I didn’t hear any noise coming from the first floor, so I wasn’t sure where he was—if he was even down here. I knew Micah had a basement, though I’d never been in it.
I walked silently through the dark house, each shadow layered in my periphery like spruce trees, hiding Micah’s secrets. My bare feet were quick down the stairs, my hand gripping the railing, moonlight slanting into the living room in silvery stripes.
Micah wasn’t in the living room, so I continued through towards the back of the house.
“Micah?” I whispered, gripping the doorframe that cased the entrance to the kitchen, my legs twisted together as I spotted him sitting at the kitchen on his phone. The screen illuminated his face from below.
He lifted his head, his eyes finding mine through the darkness.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine. Do you need something?” He set his phone face down on the table.
“I just wanted to know if you were okay.” I chewed on my lower lip, squeezing the door frame tighter, anxiety branching all along the underside of my skin. “And I wanted to shower, so I wondered if you could do it with me.”
“I’m not going to shower with you tonight.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Other than cheating on me, lying to me, and disobeying me when all I want is to keep you safe?”
“You know what I meant. Like—just a few minutes ago. You—”
“Drop it, Dakota. I’ll sit in the bathroom while you shower, but please stop asking me questions.” He stood up and stalked across the kitchen, then guided me to walk in front of him back upstairs. I tried not to let his tone bother me, even though it did.
We went into his en suite bathroom together and he started the water.
The shower was more of an excuse than anything—a desperate plea for some connection—but I still went through the motions of putting my hair up in a bun on top of my head, then taking off my shorts.
I stood in the middle of the bathroom in only a t-shirt with my arms wrapped around myself, waiting for the water to warm up.
Micah was just watching me.
“Are you trying to mess with me?” I said, attempting to wade through the painful tension between us.
“Does it look like I’m trying to fucking mess with you right now?
” he asked angrily, instantly making me regret saying it.
Another fight wasn’t my intended outcome when I decided to go downstairs to find him.
He took several large steps towards me, boxing me in against the sink.
“Do you seriously think I’m enacting revenge on you tonight? Is that all you think of me?”
“No,” I snapped. “It’s not what I think of you, but forgive me for asking when all I’ve gotten from you the past week are lies and games. I’m trying my best to handle everything, okay?”
“Get in the shower,” he ordered, gesturing with his hand towards the steamed-up glass. The water was hot now, and I could feel the heat rising in the air.
“Have you always been so obsessed with control, or is this new?”
There was an instant where he did nothing, everything suspended on a hitched breath, my pulse spiking with regret, guilt crawling up my spine before he’d even moved.
I shouldn’t have said that.
And then he snatched my jaw, grabbing my face so hard my eyes watered.
“Don’t you fucking dare speak to me like that.
You have no idea who I am.” His stare was so cold, such a contrast to the heat of his hand, to the warm air I shakily sucked into my lungs.
He looked like he wanted to hurt me. Each successive time I saw this expression on his face, it became more and more real.
“I wish I did!” I said through gritted teeth, undiluted anguish dripping into my bloodstream like clear fluid through an IV line, concentrated enough to burn in my veins.
“No. You don’t.”
“Micah!” I screamed when he tightened his grip, fingers digging into my cheeks.
I felt each dull point of pain scattered across my jaw on my heart too.
Like his hand wasn’t on my face, but inside my ribcage, trying to squeeze me to death.
And yet, the cruel look on his face hurt me worse than the force of punishing grip.
It bruised some intangible part of me. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“For what to happen?”
“For me to come downstairs and fuck everything up even more,” I cried.
“I just wanted to be with you.” His hold on my face loosened, the angry lines between his brows smoothing ever so slightly.
“I feel better when I’m with you. Even when you’re mad at me.
I know I deserve whatever punishment you need to give me.
And I want you to know that I can take it. ”
“Don’t say that,” he said, voice rough, grip tightening more than ever, like my gentleness only made him need to be harsher to me.
I had the dizzying sense that he was arguing with someone other than me, and I only happened to be here by sheer unluckiness.
As if I’d been dropped in the middle of something much more vast than I could see.
“It’s true. I—”