CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Colton — 18 years old (A week later)
The world becomes almost pitch-black and the buckling, heavy dark sky looks ready to collapse any second now. The gloomy clouds, pregnant with malice, churns as loud thunder rolls. The windows shake with the force of its fury.
A thunderous lightning strikes through the darkened sky, briefly illuminating the world before dragging it back into another dark void. The wind howls as I prowl anxiously in my living room, back and forth.
The sky opens up, and the rain pours. Unleashing a cataclysmic violence upon us. I hear the hiss of another bout of lightning, before it clashes with a roar.
The lights of my apartment flicker.
The rain clacks vehemently against the windows.
While we won’t be receiving the full force of the hurricane, we’re still going to feel the remnants of it. And it’s already here.
The bulbs flicker again, before I am suddenly drowned into darkness.
I stand still, staring out of my window as I wait for the building’s generator to start up. It only takes about two minutes before the lights are back on.
At least we won’t have to pull through the storm without electricity.
But something else is eating me from the inside, and I don’t know what exactly. Thunderstorms don’t scare me. Weirdly, I find peace in them. Almost like I’ve discovered a companion in the malevolence that accompanies the ruthless storms. A hostility that’s familiar to the one in my very own soul.
But this time…it’s different.
An insistent worry gnaws at my gut.
An uncertainty that courses through my veins.
My prowling grows more restless, until the pressure around my lungs seems to squeeze the oxygen out of me.
She’s there. Alone in her apartment.
No…wait, I don’t care.
She’s always so skittish, so vulnerable. Is she scared right now?
I don’t care…
Thunder crashes through the sky once more, and this time, the explosion is like a sonic boom. The violent sound resonates through my body, shaking every molecule. My heart stammers.
I don’t care…
Goddamn it!
With a frustrated grunt, I stomp out of my apartment.
I fucking hate this.
I hate that I can’t seem to calm myself down.
I hate that in the midst of a storm, all I’m thinking about is her.
Riley fucking Johnson.
I knock on the door of her apartment, waiting with bated breath. After a few seconds of no response, I use the spare key to unlock the door. Pushing inside her apartment, I am met with complete darkness. All the lights are off.
I close the door behind me while calling out her name. “Riley?”
Except for the thunder and the sound of pouring rain, I hear nothing else. I strain my ears to hear any movement, but her apartment is eerily still.
And then I hear it.
A helpless whimper. A wounded cry.
My heart thuds.
The blood pumping through my veins grows cold.
When another lightning strikes again, illuminating her apartment for a brief second, I see that the door to her bedroom is ajar.
My feet are moving before I can comprehend what’s happening, before I can fully understand why my chest hurts so fucking much at the sound of Riley’s broken whimpers. I make it to her room in three long strides, the darkness of her apartment not slowing me down.
I turn on the lights in her bedroom and find Riley huddled in her bed. I can’t see her, but the shaking mound of blankets tells me everything I need to know.
“Riley.” My voice is gruff, almost unrecognizable to my own ears.
At the sound of my voice, she lets out another distressed whimper. I move to the side of her bed, cautiously sitting down on the edge of her mattress as not to spook her. Gripping her blanket, I gently tug it down. Her tear-stained face comes into view and our eyes lock together.
Time slows.
I think maybe…if I had been stabbed, it would have been less painful.
My breath stutters.
The haunting fear in her eyes completely decimates me.
“It’s me,” I tell her, trying to soothe her panic. “You’re safe. It’s just a storm.”
Another round of thunder rolls through, and her whole body flinches. Her pale face twists with absolute terror, and her hands suddenly snakes out from under the blanket.
Riley latches onto my wrist, her fingers gripping me tightly. “Don’t…” she chokes out. “P-please, don’t…l-leave m-me. I—don’t…please. Please. Please .”
She can barely formulate a proper sentence, as she stumbles into a full-blown panic attack. When another thunder echoes through the sky, the menacing sound bouncing off the walls, Riley squeezes her eyes shut. The whole bed shakes with her violent tremors.
“Please, Colton.”
The sound of my name on her lips…
Her voice is full of fear, but my name is spoken like a whispered prayer. Almost like she’s trying to seek comfort in my name, in me.
As if I am her last hope in this whole forsaken world.
Fuck, Riley has ruined me.
“It’s okay,” I soothe, as gently as I can. I’ve never done this before. I might be good at a lot of things, but I don’t know the first thing about comforting someone. I don’t know how. That’s not a life skill I possess. But still…
For my Little Wallflower—I try my fucking best.
“I’m right here,” I tell her. Her chin wobbles, holding back a cry. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you.”
In a brief thoughtless moment, I do the only thing that feels right. I know I will regret it tomorrow; I know she will hate me tomorrow. But still…nothing has ever made more sense or felt more right to me in my life, until this very moment.
I take off my shoes and crawl in bed with Riley Johnson.
The moment my body slides against her, she curls up into me. Her delicate softness against all my hard muscles. Her shaky breath caresses my throat, where her face is tucked in.
Her body presses into me and I feel her frantic heartbeat. I don’t know what’s going on in her head, but Riley is trying to crawl under my flesh, like she’ll find sanctuary there. I don’t know how else to describe it.
Ah, fuck. She’s killing me.
Riley still has a death grip on my wrist. Almost like she’s scared I’ll leave…and if I do, she’ll wither and fade into nothingness.
“ Stay .” Her tiny voice cracks with that single word.
“It’s okay, you’re safe.” What else am I supposed to say in this situation? Suddenly I’m pissed at myself for being such a stupid fuck. I don’t even know how to calm someone. Jesus, I really am pathetic.
I swallow and then try again. “Talk to me,” I whisper.
Riley tenses in my arms. “W-what?”
“Talk to me…Tell me your favorite color,” I coax her into speaking. Maybe if she talks, the panic will slowly recede in her mind. If she focuses on something else other than her fear, she might find it easier to calm down.
“My favorite color?” She seems confused at my question, her mind still hazy with panic.
I rub my hand over her arm, my fingers brushing over her goosebumps. I don’t like how cold her skin is. “Yeah. Do you like pink?”
“A little,” Riley responds quietly.
“What about red?”
“Red doesn’t look good on me.”
I blink. Really? I think red would suit her. Red is bold and sexy. I imagine messy blonde hair, furious eyes and a red dress. With red lipstick.
And then I’m thinking how fucking beautiful her red lips would look wrapped around my cock—
Rein it in, Bennett.
Her nose brushes against the column of my throat. “I like blue,” she breathes against my skin. Her answer is unexpected.
“What type of blue?”
“Hmm, baby blue.” Her body slowly relaxes against mine.
The storm continues to rage on, but Riley is more focused on me and my words now. She barely even notices the violent thunder booming through the skies.
I continue drawing circles over her arm with my thumb, enjoying the way her muscles start to loosen. “That’s a nice color. What do you think my favorite color is?”
“Gray,” she replies quickly, as if the answer was already on the tip of her tongue.
I know I asked the question, but in reality, I don’t have a favorite color.“Why do you think that?”
“Gray is your color,” Riley says stubbornly, her voice soft and faint. “It’s emotionless and moody, like you. It’s something in between, because you neither fit in the color of white nor black. Gray is complicated…” she trails off.
My heart stutters.
“You think I’m moody?”
I don’t get an answer.
“Riley?”
Her silence fills me with worry, so I lift my head to look down at her face. Her eyes are closed, her tear-stained face looks peaceful, and her breathing evens out. Riley fell asleep, yet she still holds onto my wrist.
I hadn’t expected her to fall asleep this fast. But I guess once the panic fades and her mind grows hazy with calmness, she’d be lulled into unconsciousness.
Riley stays curled up against me all afternoon and well into the night. She barely even twitches in her sleep. Sometime during the night, her hand crawls up under my shirt, her palm resting against the hard muscles of my abdomen. Skin to skin.
I don’t sleep a wink. I can’t…
I stay up and listen to Riley’s breathing.
She stays like this until morning. My whole body’s sore because I didn’t move an inch during the night, too worried I’d wake her up.
The storm eventually passes, and when dawn arrives, Riley’s eyes flutter open at the first ray of sunlight. I watch as confusion plays across her sleepy features.
Her head lifts up, and she meets my gaze.
She blinks. And blinks again.
Her lips part in a silent gasp, and then she’s pushing away from. Riley sits up, raking her fingers through her disheveled hair. There we go, I had been waiting for this. Her reaction in the morning, once the fog of her panic attack clears in her mind.
“What?” Riley croaks and then coughs. Her chest rattles with a shaky exhale. “You— last night…I didn’t…” she trails off, blinking a few more times. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember much of what happened last night.”
I sit up too. “You slept all night.”
“I slept all night?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
Shaking my head, I can’t help but grin at her confusion. “Are you going to repeat everything I say?”
“No,” she defends quickly. Riley rubs her forehead, averting her eyes. She can’t bring herself to look at me.
I guess…it’s time for me to go.
The storm has passed and the night has come to an end. I’m done here.
Climbing off the bed, I shove my feet into my shoes. “I’ll go now.”
“Okay,” she whispers softly.
My chest tightens. “Okay,” I tell her.
“Colton?” Her sleepy voice halts me.
My hand pauses on the handle of the door and I glance over my shoulder. “Yes?”
Riley sits in the middle of her bed, looking both innocent and vulnerable. She holds her blanket up to her chin. “ Thank you ,” she breathes.
I swallow hard. How do I respond to that?
Riley Johnson is thanking me and I never thought I’d see that day. But here we are. How the tables have turned.
I nod in acknowledgement before walking away.
I only stayed with her last night because Lila was not here. Because Riley was alone.
I only stayed to complete my responsibility toward her— my promise to Lila to take care of Riley in her absence.
I don’t care for her…
I never did.
I never will.
Because I’m incapable of such humane sentiments.