15. FIFTEEN
FIFTEEN
It’s been hours.
Hours.
In that time, I’ve eaten, taken some more medicine, limped around downstairs to check out the house, and stared outside for a long time.
Those clouds I saw rolling in earlier have completely swallowed the sunset, making the night appear darker.
Thunder has rumbled overhead for the past twenty minutes, and I’m just waiting for the rain.
I can’t remember the last time I could actually enjoy it.
I’m used to cowering under whatever shelter I can find during our frequent rainstorms, too busy trying not to get hypothermia or sick.
Before my life went down the drain, I used to love how rainy it gets here.
My mom always hated it because I’d insist on jumping in every puddle I could find, ruining my outfit and tracking muddy footprints through our house.
Never did I think I’d stop doing that. I never thought I’d stop doing a lot of things.
Being alone is something I’m used to, sure, but this house feels void of life without anyone else in it—like it’s a damn crypt ready to lock me in. Even with the soft background noise of the TV, I’m itching for Hunter to get back.
I’m…fuck, I’m counting on it.
There are too many changes happening when my life has been one consistent, predictable line of fuckery. Getting mugged or gang raped doesn’t seem so out of the ordinary, even if the latter had never happened before.
But this?
Sitting in a nice ass house, at night, in a beach town?
God, I hate it. I hate it so much because it’s calm.
You know what happens when things are calm? Complacency.
This kind of peaceful energy is its own type of predator.
It lures you in, seduces you, and coaxes you to let down all your guards.
You fall in love with it, cherish it, and want to keep it forever until it ultimately bursts with cannon fire and trembling quakes.
It destroys you so that you’ll never, ever want it again.
I’ve gone through this before. I know exactly how it progresses.
I’m scared to death of falling victim to it again.
More time passes while I stew in my thoughts, worried about what morning will bring.
I hope it's bad, honestly. I can handle bad.
When the sky finally breaks open, loud booms sound overhead, and a torrent of rain washes over the roof and down the windows, I close my eyes and mute the TV. Despite what I feel about all of this and knowing what will eventually come to pass, I can’t shut out nature's music.
The panic shooting through my limbs and rattling my brain starts to settle while my breaths even out.
Wanting to see it for myself, I grab the crutches and carefully approach the wide bay window overlooking the water.
It’s too dark to get much of a view, and the downpour makes the glass blurry, but I sink into the cushioned seat anyway.
Pulling my leg up, I rest the crutches against the wall and lean my head against the window.
It’s the worst thing I could hope for, but I hope he comes back.
I really need Hunter to come back.
The front door clicks shut, and I jerk awake.
My hand flies for my backpack, which I no longer have, and I ball my fist over the air. It comes rushing back that I’m warm, that something soft is under me and not the familiar hard concrete.
“Shit,” a low curse registers in my ears.
Leaning over to get a good look at the entryway to the house, I spot a very wet Hunter shrugging out of his jacket.
Thick, dark locks hang over his forehead as he lets the soaked material drop with a loud slap over the hardwood floors.
Fingers work quickly to get his tie off, which he put back on before Perry came by earlier.
Shuddering and shivering, he pulls the tie from the collar of his dark button-up he’s been wearing since yesterday.
I left the kitchen light on earlier, not wanting it to be pitch black, but shadows in the bay window seat cover me so Hunter doesn’t see I'm in here. I don’t breathe as he frantically unbuttons his shirt.
Small patches of smooth skin are revealed with every one he gets open, and then it dawns on me.
He’s going to strip right there.That soaking wet, skin-tight shirt is going to come off.
I clear my throat, and he screams. The pitch is so high that it nearly pops my eardrums as he leaps out of his skin. “Holy fuck ,” he rasps, palming his chest.
“Whoops.” I shrug and work to get back on my feet.
Those buttons get back in place quickly before he flicks on the living room light. “I thought you would’ve been in the bedroom,” he admits. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“My bad?” I offer.
His hand flies to his hair, pushing the wet strands out of his face. All that does is make them stand up funny, and I bite my cheek so I don’t laugh. Again, he looks…rumpled. “Are you not tired?”
“Had a cat nap.” I dip my chin towards the window. “How’d it go?” The question startles me because it’s genuine. I do want to know. He seemed…really put off about it.
“It went,” he grumbles and grimaces at his outfit. “I don’t mean to be blunt, but I desperately need a shower.”
“Looks like you already had one.” I lower to the chaise as he frowns. “I take it you’re a ‘shower every day, sometimes twice a day’ kind of dude.”
“When the situation calls for it.”
My mind snags on the word situation. He wears suits and works in an office. What situation warrants multiple showers? It dawns on me at the exact moment he realizes what he said. My eyebrows raise in surprise and Hunter coughs.
What was that?
“Anyway,” he draws out the word. “I’ll be back in ten.” And then he’s jogging up the stairs.
Sinking back into the couch, I fiddle with the string on my sweatpants while wondering what sort of men Hunter goes out with.
I’m sure he doesn’t have a problem getting anyone into his bed, not with his looks and money, but I’m struggling to figure out what type of guy would be good enough.
Someone with money like he has? Or maybe he wants a rough one to toss him around?
I can’t really picture that one.
In fact, I can’t picture anyone.
Not that I have a lot of experience with this shit—I don't.
I think Caleb was the only guy I actively sought out, and he didn’t even know what he was doing. Maybe that’s why I can’t come up with a suitable partner for Hunter. Yeah, that’s it.
“Why do you even care?” I ask myself, scrubbing my face.
I don’t care. I’m just not used to being this sedentary, and so I’m bored.
Grabbing the remote so I stop thinking about it, I quickly find something to watch, fold my arms, and frown. It won’t go away, either.
Why the hell do I care?
Why can’t I stop thinking about it? The most logical explanation would be that if he has someone important in his life, then I’m not at all.
Because I’m not .
Holy hell, Gray. Get it through your thick head! Temporary. This is temporary.
It’s all fucking—
“I love this movie,” Hunter says, and I flinch. It’s subtle, and I don’t think he caught it.
Gotta stop dropping my guard like this. It’s happening more and more, and the guy is eerily silent on his feet.
He rounds the couch wearing black pajama pants and a slightly oversized dark green shirt. There’s a pine tree on it.
His hair is combed back, and his face looks extra glossy like he has lotion on.
“Huh?” I blurt, noticing that his outfit completely hides his body while accentuating his arms, which have far too many veins. They're distracting…
“The movie,” he points before sitting down on the other side of the couch.
I glance at the TV, and my brain finally catches up. “Oh. Yeah. I’ve never seen it.”
I didn’t even pay attention to what it was called, either.
“Rewind it to the beginning,” he demands, reaching across to snatch the remote from my thigh.
My entire body stiffens, the galloping in my chest ramps up, and I can hardly breathe.
While he resets the movie to the beginning, I glance at his profile.
His nose is still straight from this angle, and his jaw is more defined.
The right side of his lips kicks up in a smile right before they part, and he faces me.
“You picked the first one, too. So you won’t be lost when everything starts happening.” There’s genuine excitement in his voice—like he hasn’t gotten to share one of his favorites with anyone in person.
And to be fair, he’d only asked me my favorites. I ran out after a while because most of the answers I gave him were from when I was a kid.
“The Davinci Code?”
“Yeah, the second one is called Angels and Demons. I’ve always wanted to read the series, but I don’t have the time.”
“How come?”
He frowns like it’s obvious, and maybe it is; I just want him to keep talking and looking at me like that.
“I work a lot. I’m usually in the office for ten hours or more, depending on what’s needed.
I guess a lot of it is to avoid going home.
Half the time, I could get away with leaving earlier, but I just don’t.
And when I’m there, I don’t have the focus for anything other than work.
I go into tunnel vision.” He shrugs and turns up the volume.
When he nudges me ever so slightly—a whisper of a touch—I swallow hard.
“Pay attention,” he orders, but it’s playful, easy.
I grab the blanket, wiggle down as far as I’m comfortable with my pillow tower under my leg, and watch his favorite movie.