CHAPTER TWELVE
BLAIR
I wake up to the sun streaming through the window, slicing through my room like a knife. My head throbs with each beam, pounding in time with my heartbeat. I groan and throw my arm over my eyes to try and block out the sun. God, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.
As I lie there, my mind starts to slowly piece together fragments of the night before. The party. The drinking. Shay throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A wave of embarrassment floods over me. I remember yelling something at him too. Something about being a virgin.
“Shit,” I mutter, feeling a rush of heat flood my cheeks. Why would I tell him that? He’s already a dick, and I’m sure that will just be more ammo for his arsenal.
Grabbing my phone, I look at the screen for the time, but another message from the unknown number stares back at me. The text is blank. No words, no taunts. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and for some reason, it makes me feel almost more uneasy than when there are words.
Throwing the device beside me, I push myself up, the room slightly tilting as I swing my legs over the side of the bed.
I sit there for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
The walls are too fucking white, and so is all the furniture, making my head throb even more.
My throat feels like sandpaper. I need water. And Tylenol. Lots of Tylenol.
Sliding onto the floor, I crawl over to a half-unpacked box sitting on the floor.
It’s filled with bathroom essentials from our old house.
Digging through the mess of toiletries and random shit, I finally find the bottle of Tylenol at the bottom.
I shake a couple of pills into my hand and swallow them dry, wincing as they scrape down my throat.
Some food might help too, so I decide to head downstairs. Using the bed to pull myself upright, I groan and press the heels of my palms into my eyes. Trying to shake some of the pain away, I move forward. I slip out of my door, then reach behind me to close it when I’m on the other side.
My hand is met with wet fabric. I turn around, confused and a little grossed out by whatever I touched, to find a pair of my panties hanging from the handle like some sort of twisted flag. I unravel the band and raise them with my pointer and thumb to examine what the fuck is on them.
My stomach twists with anger and humiliation when I realize. My heels were one thing, but this is another. Shay’s taunting tactics are getting fucking ridiculous.
Without a second thought, I storm next door to his room. I don’t even bother knocking; I just shove the door open and barge inside, ready to unleash every last ounce of anger I have.
But Shay isn’t there.
I stop, momentarily thrown off-balance by his absence.
His room is unexpectedly neat, everything in its place.
The bed is made with military precision, the sheets perfectly smooth, not a wrinkle in sight.
His desk is organized with a few notebooks and a laptop stacked neatly on one side.
There are a few pictures on the wall—mostly him after fights and one of a woman who shares his eyes.
His mom, I’m sure. A pair of boxing gloves hang from a hook by the closet too, looking worn and well used.
There’s a calmness to the room that feels at odds with the person I know.
It’s unnerving how meticulous everything is, like he has to have everything under control.
I swallow the lump in my throat. As much as I hate to admit it, his room feels safe.
It’s the last thing I’d expect from Shay, who’s done nothing but make me feel like I’m standing on uneven ground from the moment we met.
I shake my head and try to focus. I need to find him.
The gym is a safe bet, considering it’s a place he clearly goes to work out pent-up aggression and flaunt his douchiness. Turning on my heel, I leave his room and head down the stairs. I find my mom and Henry in the kitchen, laughing and talking.
Before either of them can say anything to me, I hold up my hand. “I’m in a rush. Can I borrow your car?”
My mom tips her head. “In a rush dressed like that?”
I glance down at my pajamas. I don’t even care. “Yes. So, can I?”
“Here.” Henry reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys. “Take mine.”
He tosses them to me like some sort of peace offering, but I don’t have time to focus on it. I catch them and turn to walk away, shouting, “Thanks,” behind me.
The stone is warm under my feet when I step outside. I scan the driveway and spot my mom’s car, but I’m not sure which of the other three I have the keys to. I hit the fob, and a honk sounds out from the sleek black Escalade in the back. How am I supposed to drive this big-ass car?
I pad toward it and open the door. I all but have to climb inside.
It’s like a fucking spaceship, with screens stretching almost all the way across the dash and creamy leather seats.
I reach beside the seat and try to figure out which switch will move the seat forward because at this moment, my feet are nowhere near the pedals.
Once it’s finally adjusted, I start the car and back out of the driveway.
Minus hitting a few curbs because I can hardly see over the hood, I make it to the gym without incident.
As I pull up, I see Shay’s black Jeep parked right in the front.
I pull Henry’s SUV beside it, then jump out with the keys in hand.
The cracked asphalt hurts as I step on it with bare feet, but I don’t stop to dwell on it.
I have more important things to focus on. Like beating Shay’s ass.
Pulling open the door to the gym, I immediately spot Shay across the way. He’s shirtless, with his focus entirely on the punching bag in front of him. His muscles ripple with each powerful punch he throws, and sweat glistens on his skin.
I march over, my anger finally bubbling over. “What the hell, Shay?” I shout, shoving him as hard as I can.
He barely moves, turning his head to look at me with a bored expression. “What do you want now?”
“First the heels, and now the panties on my door.”
I go to shove him again, harder this time, but he catches my wrists. “Oh.” He smirks. “You found those?”
I jerk my arms from his hold and ball my fists. “Are you serious? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I don’t give him time to reply before I’m throwing my fists into his body. I land blow after blow, but it doesn’t even seem to affect him. My fists land on his chest, his arms, anywhere I can reach, and he just stands there, taking it, his expression stoic.
“Is that it?” he finally asks, mocking me.
My face scrunches with anger before I throw myself at him again, but Shay moves faster than I anticipate.
He waits till I’m out of breath before grabbing me by the shoulders and kicking my feet out from under me.
My back hits the ground, and I wince, and then he’s on top of me, pulling my arms up above my head.
“Are you done?”
He’s so close, damn near nose to nose with me. I can feel the heat of his breath skate across my skin. I’m hyperaware of his body on top of mine too. He’s hard, not an inch of softness anywhere to be found. His arms cage my head, and his stomach digs into mine every time he takes a steady breath.
For a split second, my mind goes blank. All I can focus on is the way his mouth moves when he speaks and how nice his lips might feel on mine. I think he has the same thoughts because when I move my eyes from his mouth to his stare, he’s looking at me with the same expression.
The dark blue rim around his eyes is even darker, and his lids are hooded and lazy. His tongue juts out to wet his lips, and he moves in the tiniest bit closer. “Would this be so bad?” he whispers.
I almost say no. What I’m thinking, I don’t even know. It’s hard to rationalize with him so close in my space, but I can see something else in him I haven’t before. It isn’t the normal want to add another notch to his bedpost. No, it’s need .
I’m about to give in—to let myself get lost for the briefest second and just enjoy that his mouth isn’t talking because it’s on mine—but the gym door swings open, and with it, all of my senses snap back with it.
I push him off of me and stand. “You’re a pig!” I scream before jogging out of the gym and past the man walking in.