Chapter 14 Lexi
FOURTEEN
LEXI
Idon’t know what I thought Colten’s apartment would look like, but it wasn’t this.
The view of the ocean is one I could get lost in, giving the illusion of complete privacy. The second I stepped out of the elevator and saw the wall of windows, I could see myself curling up with my book and watching the rain fall over the sea.
Colten doesn’t reply, instead walking toward the two doors in question.
He’s always been a man of few words, or at least he is with most people.
With me he’s usually more open, a fact I try not to let myself think about too hard because it always has the hopeful part of my heart yearning for something I can never have.
I start after him, my hands bundled together nervously. Living with my brother’s best friend, no matter how temporarily, seems like a recipe for disaster.
He pushes the first door open, uncovering a bathroom. The black-and-white tiles make the space appear bigger than it really is, but the finishings are nice, and the bathtub on the other side of the room calls to me.
Okay, so maybe living here won’t be so bad with a good view and a huge bath.
He moves on to the second door, and it’s exactly now that I realize that aside from what I assume is a pantry off the kitchen, this is the only other door in the whole apartment.
Which means…
“This is the bedroom.” He gestures to the king-size bed that takes up the center of the room.
“There’s only one bed?” I squeak.
He nods. He steps farther into the room and points to the first door on the back wall. “En suite,” he says before turning to the other door. “Closet. There’s plenty of room in there for your stuff. I’ll call your mom today and have her start packing up your bedroom at the estate.”
I open my mouth to ask why the hell that would be happening, but before I get the chance, he strides back into the living area.
“Have a shower, make yourself at home, and I’ll get to making some pancakes,” he calls over his shoulder.
I blink after him a few times, considering whether I should follow him and ask the questions swirling around inside my head.
Every time I think this day has hit its insanity quota, I’m quickly proven wrong. Any second now, there’s going to be a pet elephant wandering through the apartment, I’m sure of it.
Deciding a shower will clear my mind, I step into the bathroom and stop dead in my tracks. The space is huge, with a bathtub that puts the other one to shame, a wall of glass that overlooks the city, and a shower that could easily house an orgy. Hell, maybe more than one.
This place is nothing like what I thought my quiet protector would choose for himself.
I close the door behind me and quickly flick the lock, blocking me off from the rest of the world for the first time since the attack.
Moving out of instinct alone, I step into the shower and flick the water on before stripping out of my pajamas and cardigan.
Apart from Colten quickly checking me for any severe injuries, I haven’t allowed myself to consider the marks the attack may have left on me, but as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my stomach rolls uncomfortably.
Carpet burns trail up my thighs and stomach, bruises litter my legs and knees, and my fresh manicure is chipped and broken.
It’s all surface level, but every mark he left makes me feel filthy.
I step beneath the spray, allowing my dark hair to soak for long seconds as the heat moves through my sore muscles.
Reaching for the shampoo, my fingers linger over the familiar bottle.
What the…
The matching conditioner sits on the ledge beside it, and then a few inches away is another product I’m all too familiar with.
My favorite body wash.
It’s just a coincidence, I try to rationalize with myself, but my chest tightens as I move through the motions of washing my hair.
Why does Colten have my favorite products in his shower? Did another woman leave them here, and he’s just using them up? That seems like it could be the case, and although the products are different brands, I doubt I’m the only woman that likes smelling like a cupcake in my day-to-day life.
The real question is, why does the idea of Colten having another woman here burn so badly?
I accepted a long time ago that we would never be anything more than friends, and I figured eventually my crush would fade, but I’m pretty confident living under the same roof is going to bring it all back to the surface.
Once I’m out of the shower, my skin is pink from the temperature of the water.
It wouldn’t be a girl shower if it wasn’t hellfire.
I wrap a fluffy towel around myself and step up to the vanity, which is when I spot the contents of the counter, and the backs of my eyes burn with unshed tears.
My favorite perfume.
Does Colten have a girlfriend I don’t know about?
He didn’t mention anything at the restaurant last night, but maybe they’ve broken up and this is the stuff she left behind?
The thought shouldn’t have my heart aching, but it does.
As selfish as this is, the fact Colten has never dated has made me feel less alone and allowed the flame of hope I’d never been able to extinguish to keep burning.
But thinking a man like Colten wouldn’t have a line of women begging to be his girlfriend is na?ve.
By the time I peek my head out of the bathroom door, checking to make sure the bedroom is clear, I’m a bundle of nerves for all the wrong reasons.
I was attacked a few hours ago. Someone who knows about my side hustle found me, broke into the house while I was sleeping, and could have killed me…or worse. And yet for some reason I’m spiraling about whether Colten is dating?
I’m so fucked up.
My bag is nowhere to be seen, and I sigh, brushing my hand down my face. He left it in the living area before our tour, and I forgot to bring it in before I showered.
Fuck.
I clutch the towel against my chest and tiptoe forward. I’m not totally sure why I think I need to be so quiet, but I don’t have the mental capacity to analyze any of that right now.
Now that I’m alone in here, I take my time looking over the space.
The large bed is covered in dark-gray sheets that are similar to the ones I have on my bed at home.
The room is mostly necessities. A dresser with a large television on top of it, a bedside table on either side of the bed, and a chest that probably contains blankets or something.
But there are a few things that have me crossing to the far side of the room.
The only photo in the room is one of Cruz, Colten, and me when we were teenagers. A rare family event that he was allowed to attend. The grainy photo that came from one of our cell phones has always been a favorite of mine, and I can’t help but smile that he has it right beside his bed.
Next to the photo is a figurine I gave him many years ago. A dolphin, my favorite animal when I was younger, that at the time, he needed more than I did. It was a symbol of the freedom we both craved but seemed impossible.
I spot a small pile of shirts folded neatly on the dresser and pluck one from the top. I may not have panties, but considering Colten is almost a full foot taller than me, I can’t see it being a problem.
My ribs twinge as I pull the soft fabric over my head, smoothing it around my thighs.
As expected, it hits almost at my knees, while the sleeves fall past my elbows.
The skin on my legs is red and angry, but until I get my toiletries from my suitcase, I don’t have anything to soothe them.
The scent of breakfast wafts through the closed door, beckoning my rumbling stomach back into the living area, but the sight waiting for me stops me in my tracks.
Maybe it’s how little I’ve dated, or maybe it’s the way I grew up in a world where women were raised to be subservient, but nothing could have prepared me to see Colten in the kitchen.
He moves around like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s shucked his jacket, and his sleeves have been pushed up, uncovering his tattooed forearms.
“You gonna come in for breakfast or spend the rest of the morning checking me out?” He smirks, finally looking up from the stove to meet my eyes.
How am I possibly supposed to survive living with the man I can never allow myself to have?