Chapter 20 #3
"Um, this is kind of awkward." I huff, running my hands through my hair the way I always do when I'm uncomfortable.
"But I just wanted to say that…if I led you on in some way, I'm sorry.
It wasn't intentional. I try to be honest, but I realize I may have done some things—unintentionally—that gave you the wrong impression. I didn't want to do that."
Her lip turns up as her face shifts from a look of concern to one of genuine confusion. "Elias, what are you talking about?"
"I don't know. I just—"
"That's not why I called you. I mean, you're cool to hang out with in microdoses, but…
I'm not in love with you or anything, Elias.
In fact, you're one of the most unserious guys I've ever met.
No woman in her right mind would ever take your attention seriously.
No offense—you just don't have anything to worry about there.
You're not giving boyfriend material in any way. You convey yourself perfectly fine."
"Oh…okay, good."
But that didn't feel so good. It felt like a fucking insult.
"Look, I picked you for a reason, and that's the reason. I have a boyfriend, Elias. He's going to school in London, so we're in an open relationship. I only sleep with unserious guys. It's less messy that way."
I nod. "Got it."
"Oh, and…if Saige needs someone to talk to, my sister is a substance abuse counselor on campus."
God damn it.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Thanks. I think she's fine."
"All right, I'll see you later," she says as she gets out of the car.
"See you around, Blythe."
I spend the short drive home going over the interaction in my head, trying to put my finger on what part of it bothered me so much. She told me what I wanted to hear, so why is it picking at something in the back of my brain?
I pull into the driveway, park the car, and enter the house, resetting the alarm before heading upstairs to my room.
When I open the door and step inside, I find the bed empty, and my heart sinks. The alarm didn't go off, so she must still be inside. I'll check her room, and if she's not there, I'll have to assume she's with Dax.
But just before I leave the bedroom, I notice the light on in my bathroom, the door just barely open.
I knock softly. "Saige?"
When I push it open, she's on the floor, hugging the toilet.
"Are you okay?"
"What do you care?" she says before retching again.
I kneel behind her and hold her hair back.
"Get off me," she slurs once she finishes throwing up.
I let go of her hair and sit with her on the tile floor, leaning against the back wall. "I wasn't on you."
"You know what I mean."
I pull a towel down from the wall behind me and hand it to her.
She narrows her eyes, reaching for it slowly. "This better be fucking clean."
I shrug. "I don't know what you're talking about. Of course it's clean."
Saige wipes her face with the towel and then lies on the tile floor, using it as a pillow.
"What'd you take?"
"I didn't take anything," she says. "We drank a lot of tequila, smoked a little weed in the backyard, but then I saw that guy again, and we went back inside."
"Then the weed was bad. It was laced with something."
She makes a face. "Don't blame the weed."
Then you're making it up.
Saige closes her eyes, and I sit there, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. Her left tit is about to spill over her bra. In my head, I reach behind her, unhook the strap, and let it fall away from her chest.
I shake the image from my mind and look away, my eyes settling on dried blood on her scalp, near her left temple. "How's your head?"
"You mean from the tequila or…"
"I mean from earlier—when you fell."
She sighs. "What does it matter? You don't care. Why are you still here?"
"I don't know," I tell her. "I think I like being around you; you're like…my comfort victim. I particularly like you like this."
"Like what? Pathetic?"
"Yes. And beautiful."
"What?"
"I think you're really fucking beautiful, Saige. I think you're especially beautiful like this. Is that terrible?"
"Well…yeah, Elias, it is. It's really fucking terrible. Why would you say that?"
She looks at me with disgust, and I throw my hands up and sigh. "I don't know. I was just being honest." It might be the most honest thing I've ever said to her.
"Well, it's terrifying. If the room weren't spinning, I'd run out the front door. People like you shouldn't say their honest thoughts out loud. Keep that an inside thought."
"I'm tired of inside thoughts."
"Yeah, I believe that. I'm sure your inside thoughts are very tiring. I don't suppose there's any chance you'd bring me something to wear, is there? You know, since you like being around me so much."
Damn it. And I was really enjoying the view, too. "Yeah, I will."
Sighing, I get up and walk back to my bedroom. I flip through the t-shirts in my closet until I find an old hockey shirt with my name and number on the back.
If I have to cover the object of my obsession, it might as well be in this. Then I go downstairs, grab a pair of her shorts, and fill a glass of water before returning to the bathroom.
I set the clothes down beside her, and then she sits up to grab the glass. After drinking almost the entirety, she sets it aside and picks up the shirt. "Really?"
I shrug, sitting against the wall again. "I did what you asked."
She puts on the shirt, which reaches about the middle of her thighs, and then stands up and starts taking off her pants underneath it.
I'm getting uncomfortably hard.
She ends up losing her balance and falling over. "Shit!"
"Are you okay?" I adjust my dick.
"Yeah, I'm just stuck. Will you help me?"
"Help you take off your pants?" Surely that isn't what she's asking me.
"Yeah…"
"Okay," I say, grabbing the sides of the leather pants and working them down her perfect thighs.
My eyes move to the apex of those thighs, where her pussy is barely covered in more red lace.
Jesus fucking Christ. I grit my teeth and force myself to look away.
"But don't be surprised if I come in mine again. "
"Inside thoughts, Elias. What the fuck?"
What? We both know it happened. "Yeah, I'm having a lot of inside thoughts right now."
I finally get the pants over her ankles, and she quickly pulls on her shorts and rests her head on the towel again.
"Do you feel any better?"
"Physically or emotionally?"
"Either one, I guess."
"No."
Arcadia comes into the bathroom, stretching out next to Saige on the tile. She throws her arm around her and kisses the top of her head. "Good puppy."
"She's a traitor."
"Animals can read vibes, Elias. Mine are just better than yours."
I scoff. "Vibes."
"What do you have against vibes?"
"Blythe said something to me about my vibe. It was…weird. Let me ask you something…"
"You want to ask me something about your vibe? I literally hate you."
"I'm serious, Saige."
"So am I."
"Okay, fine. Fuck it. Never mind."
"Whatever, just ask me."
I try to figure out how to word exactly what's bothering me. "She said I don't give off like…boyfriend vibes."
Saige crinkles her nose. "Do you want to be her boyfriend?"
"Well, no. I don't like her like that, but—"
Her face gets worse. "Then what's the problem? I mean, surely you didn't think you gave off boyfriend vibes. You're terrible."
I huff. I shouldn't have brought it up. "No, but…she said—and this is a quote—that no woman in her right mind would ever take my attention seriously. That bothered me."
"Again…why?"
"Because what if I did fucking like somebody, and I wanted them to take me seriously? I'm a serious person."
"Pfft, no you're not. You're an angry person; that doesn't make you a serious person."
"Saige—"
"It's not a big deal, Elias. It's just…who you've become.
It's who you wanted to be that night I almost hit you with my car.
I mean, your pain was palpable then, but you were warm.
It may have even been what made you warm, but you aren't like that now.
And your coldness—your indifference—it's a warning to anyone who's paying attention.
So, no, no one would ever take your attention seriously; not now. "
"Okay…great."
"Say it with conviction—you got what you wanted.
No one and nothing will ever disappoint you because you don't care.
And I don't think you could make yourself care at this point, so don't be angry or sorry about it now.
Why would you be? People do whatever you want, you're never lonely, and you never get hurt.
" She rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. "I wish I could be like that."
"It's overrated."
"I tried to be like that," she says softly. "It didn't work for me. I still ended up like this." Laughing a little, she adds, "Remember when you were the drunk one telling me your secrets?"
"We've come full circle."
"Nah, not full circle. I liked you then. I still hate you now."
"You liked me?"
"I mean, you were different; I told you that. You know—not that you care—but I really didn't know. I thought I was getting a little brother. Like Pokémon cards, action figures, and…Ninja Turtles."
"I like all of those things."
Saige scoffs. "You don't like anything. You don't even like hockey anymore."
My jaw ticks. It's a sore spot for me, made worse by the fact that I think Saige might be right. I think on some subconscious level I didn't want to try after my accident, because if I wasn't ever one hundred percent again, hockey would be another thing that made me fucking hate myself.
No one can hurt me. Hockey can't hurt me, either. But Saige does.
The Wolverines did look like shit, though. I don't even think I'd need a good arm to outplay any of them.
"You don't like writing anymore," I counter.
"How do you know about my writing?"
I pay a lot more attention to you than you think. "Social media."
"I have you blocked."
"Not anymore."
"It's not that I don't like writing—I have nothing to write about anymore. Nothing feels good, and the things that feel bad…don't feel bad in the right way."
"What's the right way?"
"Um…it's not really something I can explain. It's definitely not something I can explain to someone like you." She sighs. "Anyway, it's been super fucking weird, but the floor has stabilized, so I'm going to go to bed. And since you've been so weird, I'm also taking the dog."
I laugh a little. "Okay."
She stands and then pats her leg. "Come on, Arcadia."
I follow her out of the bathroom, feeling this weird sinking sensation in my gut as I watch her leave the bedroom. I want her to stay with me. I wanted her to sleep in my bed.
I just want her. Even though I know she wouldn't like the way I want her—beautiful and pathetic. Helpless…but only for me. Only for my dick.
Those are inside thoughts, and I know that.
"Saige…" I say before she leaves my bedroom.
"What?"
"I'm obsessed with you."
She shakes her head. "That's not good. Obsessed isn't a good thing, Elias."
She turns, continuing toward the door, and I watch her go, my eyes locked on my name and number on her back. It makes me fucking crazy, and I stop her, moving in front of her and backing her into the door.
There's that fear again that I love, but something else, too.
"I know. I don't know what to do about it." I trace her jawline with fingers, trailing them down her neck, stopping when I feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips.
I apply more pressure, and then watch her lick her lips.
It does something to me—her tongue, her wet lips. I wrap my hand around her throat and squeeze…and she fucking likes it.
Saige gasps and then reaches for my waistband, pulling me closer, and I dive into her lips, kissing them, biting them, tightening my hold on her throat when she yelps.
I've wanted this so badly for so long that I'm fucking moaning into this woman's mouth.
I'm grinding against her, practically begging her to wrap her tiny hand around my dick and afraid I'm going to come in my goddamn pants again when she does.
But that's okay. I'll get hard again and shove my dripping cock into her sweet pussy until she screams and sees stars.
I release her neck, running my hands down her body, lifting her under her thighs and wrapping her legs around my waist, and carry her to my bed.
But the moment her back hits the mattress, it's like a switch flips. Whatever I turned on earlier—whatever weakness was there—it's gone now.
She quickly rolls off the bed, shaking her head. "I don't think either of us is in their right mind right now," she says as she backpedals toward the door. "I'm just going to go to bed, okay?"
I could argue. I could try again, or tell her that this is part of what she owes me—what she agreed to when we got rid of that body. I'd beg her to just sleep in my room and promise to keep my hands to myself and a pillow between us if I thought she'd stay.
Instead, I nod. "Yeah, okay."
Saige leaves, closing the door behind her, and I pace the room like a fucking lunatic. Eventually, I calm down enough to get into the shower, rub one out, and then lie in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Arcadia jumps onto the bed, and I realize she was supposed to go with Saige. I decide to take her downstairs and let her into the room, but when I try to push the door open, it doesn't give.
She moved the desk in front of it.