Chapter 3
chapter three
it's amazing what pancakes and honesty will do for a girl
For the first time all night my eyes felt tired, and slowly they drifted closed. My sleepy head sank into the pillows that had finally gone cold, and I actually had the urge to kick my feet I was that comfy. My eyes got heavier, and heavier, until I felt sleep reach out for—
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
I cracked my eyes open as slowly as they'd shut, hatin the rage that was burning the tips of my fingertips as I lay there.
I hadn't been able to sleep all night. I was tossing and turning and every part of my mattress was always lumpy.
The pillows were hot. The room was stuffy.
Then too cold. Then I remembered that I hated having my feet poking out of the covers because that was practically invintg a demon to snatch them. And then I was too hot again.
And just as sleep let me win, right as I perfectly perfect, it was time to wake up.
Fucking 9:00am classes.
Not sleeping wasn't a new thing for me, especially as of late.
But last nights restlessness felt different.
It wasn't as hollow. Perhaps because my body knew I had to start back my classes today and it really wasn’t prepared to leave my little fortress of solitude on the second floor.
Or step back out into a world that you know who still roamed.
It was the smell of Daisy’s pancakes that eventually got me downstairs.
Hadn’t touched them though. Instead I just sat in my corner of the kitchen table with my Earl Grey and watched their lives go on.
Rory’s laugh floated somewhere in the background, soft as anything, while Daisy and Goldie bickered about the pros and cons of oat milk like it was a life-or-death situation.
If I were a bitch then I’d tell them to piss off flaunting their perfect, non-traumatised lives in front of me while I was over here drowning with no sodding life jacket. I’d tell them they were wrong for being so normal when everything to me wasn’t.
But, alas, I’m not a bitch. Contrary to the worlds opinion.
It’s my eyes I think. Too foxy to be pure.
Not the doh kind like Rory’s, or the elfin kind Daisy had.
I knew my hair didn't help either. Black had always and will always be the colour we pin to the darkness. The cruelness of the world. Although I wasn’t sure why I was being flung into a cesspit along with those things just because I looked like a bitch when I wasn't.
Case in point; my friends, my wonderful housemates, were going about their daily lives because I'd asked them to. Just like Rory did when she lost her Dad. She didn’t want the world, or us, or the guys to treat her as this fragile glass doll that would shatter with the wrong word.
And when the attack happened I'd reinstated those rules.
“Cora,” Daisy’s voice cut through the fog in my head, and the morning playlist the was humming through the kitchen. “Eat something.”
I blinked down at the golden pancakes going soggy on my plate. Even the maple syrup looked like it couldn’t be arsed with today.
“I’m fine,” I muttered looking back at her, but my stomach chose that moment to growl, loud enough to betray me.
Daisy gave me a look, the kind she usually saved for when I was about to lose a debate I didn’t know I was having.
Such a mother hen this one. But you couldn’t help but love her for it.
“Honey,” she sighed. “You need to eat. It’s your first day back; you’ll need the energy.”
I huffed. “Because staring at blank canvases all day is really going to take it out of me.”
That earned me half a pancake to the face from Daisy.
Even with the lack of sleep it made me smile.
“Even if you don’t paint, you need something.” Goldie chimed in, leaning against the counter with her coffee like a 1950s starlet, golden waves in a heatless curl wrap. “We’re not letting you collapse in the middle of campus. Do you want to be Liberty Grove’s next tragic headline?”
“I already am, aren’t I?” I muttered to my pancakes before meeting their sad smiles.
“Cor—”
“I’m not hungry!” The words burned as they came out, and when the light air fell, I knew I couldn’t look at them.
Fuck sake. These girls were the last people who needed my anger.
I promise, I really was trying not to let the world's words turn me into what they already thought I was. But it was hard. Anger burned the same as sadness in my body, and finding the line between them some days was like trying to find a diamond earring in murky waters.
But I was really trying.
I shook my head, lifting it slightly to catch all three sets of eyes. “I’m sorry.” I rushed, sinking into their stares and finding nothing but the same glimmer of care I always saw in them.
Giving Daisy a quick smile, I took a bite. “Thank you for the pancakes.”
Their smiles pulled tight, and as the hot April sun beamed through the house, illuminating the dust particles, the morning resumed.
These table chats were something we did every morning, or at least we tried to. With Rory’s skating schedule getting more intense by the day, it was rare to see her here so late. Which made me remember to hug her extra tight before she left.
Daisy had been constantly rehearsing with her band, The Bitterroots, and they had over five thousand monthly listeners now. One of their songs was playing now, in fact.
And Goldie, when she wasn’t conquering the psychology wing on campus, she was off in some corner of a private jet, kissing the face off Tristan Harper.
And I didn’t blame her because… well, hello! It’s Tristan Harper.
But even with us all sat here, I felt removed from it, like I was watching a scene through frosted glass. I hadn’t been involved much since the attack. By my choice, not theirs. I did the odd grocery run here, a Pin’s coffee drive-by there, but it was nothing compared to the girls lives.
I’d been put on hold entirely, but that was changing today.
As the day flashed through my mind, I couldn’t help but think of all those people, all those stares, and before I knew it I was gripping my mug tighter than necessary. I was used to the looks, don’t get me wrong, but this time the looks would carry the questions. The murmurs.
It’s her. Look!
I heard she made the whole thing up.
But did you see what she was wearing that night?
Just another slut who was all mouth and got scared when he got a hard-on.
Oh, believe me, I’ve read it all. Even though I shouldn’t have. But what else was I supposed to do? My entire life was online, for God’s sake.
I scraped my chair back, standing, knowing that if I didn’t, I never would. “I should go.”
Silence hung over us for the first time all morning as their attentions lifted to me.
“Take your tea to go,” Daisy said, pressing the warm thermos into my hands before I could argue.
I forced a smile, tucking the purple thing into my tote bag. “Thanks.” My eyes cast to them from the kitchen doorway, skimming over their outfits, a vibrant mix of spring colours and ditsy floral patterns.
I tried not to think about how much happier they looked without me darkening the room.
For one, I knew it wasn’t true. I knew they never saw things like that.
But I did, and since the attack, since the hibernation, my silly little mind had time to wander darker paths that I was otherwise too busy to notice.
My eyes squeezed shut as I shook my head. “Love you.” They sprang open, as I stole breath, one that kept me grounded. “I’ll be back by six.”
I headed towards the door with a half smile, walked out to a chorus of I love you’s.
Pulling on the handle, letting the rush of air blow away the nerves, I thought of what I’d try to paint today. Try being the keyword. I’d bank on me coming home by lunch, to be honest.
But the second I stepped outside, I froze.
Because standing in the way of the next chapter of my life, dead centre on the open porch was… a wall.
A wall of a man.
I blinked, my eyes trailing up from the thick boots, past the black jeans and the tattoos snaking up his arms, to the broad shoulders barely contained by his black shirt.
And then I saw his face. Tanned, sharp jaw, messy dark hair, and eyes so deep and stormy I half-expected thunder to roll in behind him.
“Oh,” Was all my brain could think to say.
He tilted his head, those dark eyes zeroing in on me. “Cora Holland?”
I took a step back, my pulse quickening. “Who wants to know?”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “Well, me.” Bluntness dripped of his voice.
Oh lucky me. Another example of why I liked girls as well as this corrupt gender.
“Right… am I allowed some context?" I rolled my eyes, hiking my thumb over my shoulder. "You see, I left my crystal ball upstairs and I'm not really one for cardio before lunch.”
Mystery man cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over me like he was sizing me up.
I didn’t hate the attention, but I didn’t like it either.
Something about it felt… warm. Which didn’t make sense, considering the almost black colour of his eyes and the fact that his voice sounded like a rock being dragged across gravel.
“I'm Marcus,” he said finally, slight smile on his lips. “I’m the head of Romano Security.”
Romano Security? What the hell is—?
He’s the best of the best of the Romano group. He’ll keep you safe. Oh, and here he is now. Cora, this is Jamie Radcliffe.
My palms went clammy at the thought of him. I didn’t need this right now. Not today. Not ever.
I looked back up at the man before me. Head of Romano Security? So he’s the one who trained Jamie into the best of the best?
I blinked at him, deadpan. “Okay? What do you want, a gold star and a high five?”
He smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting like he half expected my tone. “No. I’m here to—”
“Uh huh,” I cut him off with a yawn, pushing past him toward the steps. “I’ve got somewhere to be.”
As I tried to move, his arm shot out, blocking my path.
I stopped short, glaring up at him. “And what right do you think you have to crowd me like that?”
The second the words left my mouth, the memories hit. Jamie. His hand on my arm, his voice in my ear, the way he made me feel trapped in my own skin.
My chest tightened like a vice, and I took a step back.
Marcus’s eyes darted between mine, something flickering in them. Concern, maybe? Guilt? I didn’t care.
“I came here to apologise,” he admitted after a moment, his voice softer as his arm fell, his hand shoved in his pocket. “On behalf of everyone at Romano.”
As I kept my eyes darting between his, anger whirled up my body the longer I was under his shadow. “Wow.” My head nodded, genuine disbelief masking my face. “Thank you for apologising for something that happened nearly three months ago. God, I feel so much better.”
His jaw tightened, but he stepped back, giving me space as I moved past him down the steps.
“Look, I know you’re angry,” he called after me, his voice hardening again. “Believe me, we all are. But I wanted to let you know that we’re doing our best to get you another—”
“Another what? Another slimy man-child you won’t background check properly so he can take advantage of me again?
” My voice shook, my hands curling into fists at my sides as the words fired out of me like bullets.
“That sick fuck hurt me. So if you think for one second I’m putting any ounce of trust into a stranger who helped ruin my life, then I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad fucking news.
” I turned on my high tops and headed down the rest of the steps, clocking the black car blocking our drive.
“Now go clean your pathetic little Porsche and piss off, would you?”
“It’s a Bentley, actually.” Marcus’s voice stopped me in my tracks, dripping with dry amusement.
I glanced over my shoulder to see the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. So I mirrored him. “Well, if you can afford a Bentley, you can afford a watch,” I shot back, “just in case this happens again and you don’t apologise three months late.”
For a moment, neither of us moved. His smirk faltered, the bravado thinning just enough for me to glimpse something raw beneath it, something he clearly didn’t want me to see. The air between us felt heavier, stretched taut, like I’d hit closer to the bone than I meant to.
And I hope it fucking hurt.
I broke the stare first, running down the steps and sliding into the car I’d booked to take me to class. I didn’t need this right now. Not when I was just starting to get a grip on my life again.