Chapter 7 – Dakota
WANNA KNOW HOW I GOT THIS SCAR?
DAKOTA
Well. That certainly was an experience.
I’d been expecting Reese to get annoyed when he found out I also played the violin. I thought he’d be pissed off and glare at me; I had not expected him to react to that degree.
He was a ferocious little tiger cub, that was for sure.
But damn it, the guilt was strong.
I gently put my violin back in its case and sighed. I wasn’t sure where this guilt was coming from. Yes, I’d kind of done that on purpose, but I wasn’t trying to genuinely upset him. I just wanted to see him glower at me when he discovered we played the same instrument.
But he’d about lost his mind. The sadness in his eyes that I’d seen that first day we’d met had resurfaced. It lived inside him, bubbling just beneath the surface where it waited for a break in the waves to slip through.
I had a similar sadness, though it didn’t hover at the surface like his. It dwelled in a locked box, a prisoner in the darkest depths of my being. I’d spent a lifetime reinforcing those locks, and nothing could break them.
Should I apologize? Technically I hadn’t done anything wrong. I’d simply played my own instrument.
No, I should apologize. Whether I’d meant to or not, I’d upset him. Made him cry.
“Ugh,” I groaned, rubbing my hands down my face.
My phone vibrated, and I glanced over at it as Albert Fuckface Voss flashed across the screen.
The rush of annoyance and buzz of anxiety that swelled in my chest and crawled along my shoulders made me want to go run ten miles.
If I didn’t answer his calls, he would send Everett here.
I grabbed the phone and swiped to answer.
“What?” I said.
“Is that any way to speak to your father?”
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t have one of those.”
The laugh that came over the line was chilling. “Keep it up, Dakota, and see what happens. You’re already on thin ice as it is.”
I glared at a little puddle of water on the ground that Reese had left behind. I was equally wet, since he’d raced out mid-shower to jump on me. I should probably change, but I didn’t want to. I kind of liked it.
My drifting thoughts were interrupted by Albert’s grating voice. “We’re having a family dinner this weekend. Wear something nice and don’t be late.”
He hung up, and I barely resisted throwing the phone across the room.
Prick.
I slid my violin underneath my bed, then lay back and tucked my arms behind my head, staring up at the ceiling.
I felt too restless, so I shot to my feet and went to my desk.
The chair creaked as I sat, and when someone shouted outside in the small courtyard below my window, I tipped the chair back to see what was happening.
“You’re gonna fall.”
I leaned forward, and the front legs of the chair hit the hardwood floor with a clack. Reese was standing by his bed, towel drying his hair and watching me with puffy, red eyes. He was wearing a plain gray t-shirt and soft-looking black pants.
I hadn’t even heard him come out of the bathroom. He’d been in there for so long that I was starting to get worried and had contemplated knocking. Or breaking the door down.
“Were you crying?” I asked. I didn’t like that. At all. Was it because of me? I really hadn’t meant to make him cry.
I pushed out of the chair and walked over to him.
Reese watched me with a guarded expression, his lips pressed together in a hard line, hazel eyes flinty.
He had two freckles in his left eye. I really liked them.
I really liked everything about how he looked.
All his features were fascinating, especially his eyes.
I’d never seen a prettier combination of colors.
Green, brown, and gold swirled together and made me think of a sunlit forest in the summertime.
“No,” he lied. He threw his damp towel on his bed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Dakota, look, I’m really sorry for—for—” His face heated as he gestured at my shirt. “For—coming at you like that. It was really uncalled for. I’ll…” He shifted his gaze to the floor. “I’ll buy you a new shirt.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I’ve got enough shirts.”
“But—”
“I never told you how I got my scar,” I said, cutting him off.
His brows drew together. “What?”
“Wasn’t that the deal?”
His eyes, more greenish-gold than brown right now, slowly drifted across my face, from my temple to my jaw, tracing the scar. When they moved back to mine, I could see the curiosity there and knew I had him.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll play,” he said, parroting my earlier words. “How’d you get your scar?” His eyes dropped down to the rip in my shirt again, and the prettiest blush spread across his cheeks. I wanted to touch the heated skin so fucking badly.
I was enjoying the way he responded to me. All his reactions. For someone so cranky, he blushed so damn easily that I wanted to draw it out of him every chance I could.
Was he embarrassed that he’d ripped my shirt? Or was he flustered? I wanted it to be the latter, especially because I didn’t care that he’d torn it open like a mini Hulk. When he’d done that, it had awakened something inside of me. A need to have him rip all my clothes right off my body.
Bonus points if it was because he was mad with lust and not angry at me for allegedly stealing his violin.
I smiled and stepped closer, forcing him to tilt his head back.
Then I slid around him—deliberately brushing my chest against his arm—and sat down on the end of his bed, leaning back on my hands and watching as his expression shifted from curiosity to annoyance.
He opened his mouth—probably to yell at me to get off his bed—so before he could, I said, “I did it to myself.”
His brows drew together. “You…did that to yourself?”
I nodded. “Yup.”
I didn’t care about my scar or how it made me look. I’d never told this story to anyone, but I didn’t particularly mind if Reese knew. A deal was a deal, after all.
Well, I didn’t mind if he knew the story that had been passed around for years. He would hear it at some point, if he hadn’t already. I’d learned a long time ago that the truth didn’t matter. Not one bit. People believed what they wanted to, and the confirmation bias was strong when it came to me.
“Why?”
For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. No one had ever asked me why. No one had ever questioned Everett’s narrative, or wondered if maybe it wasn’t true. The immediate condemnation had been swift and sweeping, and the why of it all didn’t matter.
“Why?” I repeated, still shocked he’d asked.
“Um, yeah. Why would you do that to yourself?” He looked skeptical, like he didn’t believe me at all, and for some reason that made me unbelievably happy. My mouth stretched into a wide smile, and Reese’s lips parted as he stared at me in confusion.
“You know, I feel like I should thank Albert for putting you in here.”
“Albert?”
I flicked my hand in a careless gesture. “Dean Voss. Whatever you want to call him.”
The dent between Reese’s eyebrows deepened. “You call your dad by his first name?”
“When he’s never acted like a dad before, yeah.”
His expression turned hesitant, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So you did that…to yourself.” Doubt oozed from his statement as he studied my scar. When his eyes met mine again, they were full of disbelief. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Because I’m crazy.”
His brows furrowed even deeper, and I could’ve sworn there was anger in those eyes now. “Says who?”
“Everyone.”
He stared hard at me, biting down on his bottom lip like there was something he wanted to say but he was trying to hold himself back.
Then he shook his head and moved to the end of his bed.
“You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that,” he said, so softly I barely heard him.
He bent down and picked something up, and when he turned to face me again, there was a small cloth bag in his arms.
“Can you tell me where the laundry room is?” he asked.
I guessed our conversation about my scar was over. Well, I mean, I’d kind of been the one to kill it by not taking it seriously. Guilt started to crawl through me again, but I shoved it away.
“Sure. I can show you,” I said, bouncing to my feet.
“No, that’s okay. I’d like to find it on my own.”
“Mm. If you say so.”
The look he shot me was saturated in annoyance, and when my balls started tingling with heat, I knew I was fucked.
It was those goddamn eyes of his, burning gold and green as they tried to make me combust where I stood.
“It’s in the basement, past the utility room. Make a left at the end of the hall and go three doors down. It’s on the right, you can’t miss it. Or, you can, but hopefully you won’t.”
“Thanks.” He quietly left the room without sparing me another glance.
I contemplated lying on his bed and relishing in his anger at finding me there when he eventually returned, but I’d already caused him to break down once tonight. I felt like that was enough, considering how volatile his reaction had been.
How he’d cried. How his eyes had been a deep brown—blotting out all that beautiful gold and green—as if a darkness had begun a takeover he was helpless to stop.
I dragged my ripped shirt over my head, then stuck it under my pillow and climbed into bed. Exhaustion had my limbs sinking into the hard mattress, and I turned over onto my side, hugging my smaller pillow to my chest and wondering if Reese had found the laundry room yet.
A knock sounded at the door, and because I didn’t feel like moving, I yelled, “It’s open!”
The doorknob rattled, and Val’s muffled voice came through the door. “No, it’s not, dickhead! All the doors lock automatically.”
I laughed into my pillow, then slid to my feet and opened the door for Val, heading right back to my bed.
“Wooow,” Val said with a whistle. “He’s messy, huh? Doesn’t that bother you?”
The bed sank as Val lay down beside me.
“No,” I muttered. “As long as he keeps it on his side, I don’t care.”