Chapter 17
it's always raining in my head
Saige
I'm never going to get used to waking up this early. I don't understand how they do it.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand, turning off the alarm before climbing out of bed.
It's cold in the room, and I run my hands up and down my bare arms, attempting to generate warmth.
Dax cracked the window last night, saying the room smelled too much like tacos and sex, and while he liked both, it would get stale after a while, but we're into the part of the year where it's too cold to do that now.
I close it, the windowsill wet from last night's storm.
Shivering, I grab Dax's sweatshirt from the back of his chair and pull it on before heading downstairs.
Nolan and Dax are already up—Dax is in the living room watching weekend highlights on TSN while Nolan stands in the kitchen with his laptop under one arm and a coffee in the other. He's wearing black joggers and a white, blue, and silver university hoodie.
I think it's the most color I've ever seen him wear.
Before I can start a coffee, Nolan stops me and hands me his. "I just made it," he says. "You can have it. Splash of almond milk, no sugar, right?"
"Are you sure?"
"Of course, I'm sure. I'll make another one."
"Thank you."
He turns back to grab another mug from the cabinet, and I notice how hard he is. I'm sure Dax did something or said something, and I wish I could have been around to know what it was.
I like the thought of it more than I should when I'm still this sore.
"Saige, baby, what's for breakfast?"
"Um…" I look around the kitchen. If I'm going to have to do this, I should really just make a set menu for the week. I spot a bag of avocados on the counter. "Avocado toast."
That'll be easy. And I have a class at nine, so I need to get ready.
I make their food, set the plates on the table, and then eat with Nolan and Dax.
Nolan sits in front of his computer, working on an assignment.
I watch him take a sip of his coffee and then lick his lips, losing myself a little in his mouth and what it might feel like against my skin.
Typically, he's clean-shaven like Dax, but it doesn't look like he shaved over the weekend, and he's got a really nice five o'clock shadow going.
I think of his mouth, moving from mine onto my neck, and how it would tickle.
He catches me staring and smiles—a real smile…one with teeth.
"Take a picture, Saige. It'll last longer," he says.
I take a sip from my mug and smile back. "I would, but there are some things that pictures just can't do justice, you know?"
I think all three of us are surprised when I say it.
Dax laughs. "Look at you, Ripley—spitting game at the fucking breakfast table. I can practically see your heart eyes right now."
I shrug. "Well, if you've got it..."
"I'm kind of jealous. I'm pretty sure that just the other day, you told me something like I'd die of old age before you complimented me."
"Morning," Elias says to no one in particular before sitting beside Nolan. "Did you get any more texts, Saige?"
He doesn't look at me when he asks; the truth is I forgot about the texts for a minute, and I think I might have actually…had a good day yesterday.
"I don't know," I tell him. "Nolan hid them for me."
"Let me see it," Nolan says, extending his hand.
I place my phone in it, and he looks through the messages. "Yeah, you've got a few," he says. "Nothing new, really. More murder porn." He pauses for a second before adding, "Looks like he jacked off on a picture of you, too, and thought you might want to see it."
"What?"
"Do you want to see it?"
"No."
"Okay." He shrugs, deleting them all and closing the folder before handing the phone back.
"Thanks. I'm going to get ready; I have an early class."
"Me, too," Dax says. "Do you want me to wait and walk with you? I can fight off the bad guys and stuff."
"You are the bad guys."
"But we're your bad guys," Dax says to my back. "That's the difference."
"Speak for your fucking self," Elias says before I close the bedroom door. "I'm not her fucking anything."
"It's okay, Dax," I tell him. "I don't need you to do that. I'll be fine."
I change into a pair of jeans with my Vans and a distressed baby tee, and then go to the bathroom, taking my time to curl my hair and do my makeup.
The pink pieces around my face have almost faded to nothing.
I meant to dye them again when I got to campus but then my entire life derailed, and this is the first time I've felt okay enough to notice.
When I head for the front door, the first floor is empty. Nolan left for his three-hour workout, Dax has class, and Elias is…probably upstairs. But I know I'll see him later in psychology.
I step outside, the cool fall air sending shivers up my spine. I wish I'd grabbed Dax's hoodie, but I talked myself out of it at the last second. That's something girlfriends do. And I know I dropped the ball yesterday—I let myself play girlfriend with both of them when I know better.
But I'm a toy—a broken one with a debt to pay, until they get tired of playing with me. Once they do, I'll be free and better off for it.
I walk into psychology, scanning the lecture hall before finding a seat in the back. Elias isn't here yet, and neither is Sasha.
Only one of them shows up for class today.
Elias sits beside me and sprawls out over his seat and halfway into my own, like he did last week.
"Good morning."
"I already saw you this morning…unfortunately," I grumble.
He doesn't even bother taking out his laptop, knowing I'll take notes for the both of us, and starts scrolling social media instead.
"Considering you failed this class, you might want to at least pay a little bit of attention."
"More like considering I already learned all of this shit last semester and was unjustly failed, your notes should be sufficient. Why are you all fucking dressed up? You going somewhere or something?"
I scoff. "Not that it's any of your business—"
"It is," he interrupts. "Everywhere you go is my fucking business."
"I thought you said I shouldn't worry about that anymore," I say, lowering my voice.
"That's not what I said at all—I said you didn't need to feel bad about it. But if someone knows about it, then you have to fucking worry. And you still have to hold up your end of the agreement, preferably without the fucking attitude."
"I'm not dressed up, and I'm not going anywhere."
"Well, why do you have all that makeup on and shit?"
"God…leave me alone."
I'm not going to tell him I woke up happy today—that I'm not sure when the last time that happened was or that I felt lighter than I've felt since I got here, and so I just felt like looking pretty. God, can you imagine how much he'd fucking laugh at me?
The truth is that my life was a fucking mess before I got here, too.
Most mornings, I wake up with a headache, a hangover, and little memory of the night before.
I keep the people I call friends at arm's length, waiting for them to disappoint me, and it's been fucking lonely. It's also been mostly his fault.
But I didn't feel lonely yesterday.
"You know Dax isn't your boyfriend, right?" He laughs a little when he says it.
I swallow a lump in my throat. "Yeah. I know."
"Just making sure," he says. "Because it looks like you think you're his girlfriend, so let me tell you something about Dax…"
"I really don't want to know any more about Dax, thanks."
"Cute. That's cute, Saige." He whispers now, as class started a minute ago.
"Dax likes sad, needy people. He likes to take them in, treat them like his pets for a while, and then he gets bored and moves on to the next.
And he's incapable of being faithful, so anytime he's out late or doesn't come home, he's fucking someone else—at least Nolan understands that. "
"I don't care what he does."
But I know I'm lying when my chest starts tightening. It's getting harder to breathe. Not only do I care, thinking about it is making me sick.
"Okay." He shrugs. "Honestly, I thought you were too smart to fall for it. It's kind of sad to know I overestimated someone I already have such a low opinion of…alas, here we are."
Alas my ass.
"So, tell me—has he promised to take you to their house in Paris yet?"
"No."
"What about tattoos? Did he draw you a tattoo?"
If my chest felt tighter before, it feels like my insides are falling out at my feet now. "What are you talking about?"
It doesn't come out convincing, and I know it. Elias laughs, but says nothing else for the rest of the hour. He doesn't have to; he made his point, and he knows it.
After class, he follows me out of the building and into the quad. I can feel him there; I walk a little quicker, hoping he'll lose the nerve or interest to say whatever it is he's going to say to me.
"Where are you going?" he asks. "Why are you running? Did Dax call?"
"I'm going to lunch, Elias. Leave me alone."
"You know, this has been even better than I expected. When you became our maid and in-house sex worker, I didn't expect I'd get to watch you get your feelings hurt, too."
I stop, whipping around. "What do you want from me? Say it out loud, because I'm getting fucking bored with this."
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just trying to help you."
"Help me!? You…" I shake my head. "Elias…
we can't talk anymore. We hate each other too much, and it's going to end badly every time.
You wanted me to be afraid of you, right?
I am afraid of you now. You make me feel unsafe.
Every time we do this, I walk away thinking I'd be better off turning myself in, like I am right now. Is that what you want me to do?"
"You can't—"