Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
EBONY
“Special delivery,” Mateo chimes in, sliding the clear container of strawberry drizzle shortcake across the table towards me. He slides into the seat opposite and pulls a squealing Megan into his lap. Caressing the tip of her nose with the petals of a wilting daisy.
“My way of saying sorry,” he adds kindly.
A flush of embarrassment creeps across my face, my eyes dipping down to his chest before I can stop my mind from wandering.
Kill me now.
“I’m not hungry,” I snap tiredly; he doesn’t deserve my ire, but my fuse is short today, and the probability of a meltdown is imminent.
I’m grateful when he doesn’t draw out his apology, and they start up a conversation without involving me. Leaving me to silently talk myself off the ledge before I call the day a loss and head back to my room to hibernate for the rest of the semester.
Being back here in Hells Haven, dreaming about the Knox brothers every night, thinking that every douchebag in a cowboy hat that flashes out of the corner of my eye might be them—it’s enough to send a woman loopy.
I’m suffering with an unhealthy dose of haven’t-been-laid-properly-in-what-feels-like-a-lifetime, and I’m about ready to combust. Everything seems to remind me of them and the life I could be living.
“Megan said you loved the strawberries I left her, and flowers feel more like a date thing, so dessert it is.” Mateo smiles sheepishly at me, leaning into Megan as she strokes his hair affectionately.
Now I feel like a dick.
After being kept up most of the night as these two played hide the salami in Megan’s room, I dragged myself to the living room to bury my head under the sofa cushions—the two hours of sleep wasn’t ideal, more homeless sleep than beauty sleep if the shocking mess of my hair this morning was anything to go by.
But needs must when it sounds like you’ve taken up residence next to a porn studio.
Megan told me they made content together, and while it doesn’t bother me what they get up to in their own time, I was looking into the most affordable sound-proofing options at four am.
I didn’t expect to find a dripping wet shirtless Mateo wearing nothing but a smile and a towel as he exited my bathroom this morning.
The visual is seared into my brain now as I glance across at him.
They have tried so hard to include me with movie nights and dinners, I didn’t want things to be awkward between us.
My cheeks heat at the reminder that my gaze may have lingered a little longer than it should have before he rushed out of my room.
I appreciate when Mateo makes light of our interaction as Megan chuckles along; she’d already heard me profess my apologies in our Intro to Folklore class this morning as the rest of the students discussed the prevalence of the bogeyman in high society circles during the turn of the century.
And I thought the internet is what fucked us all up.
The lack of caffeine made the entire class unbearable, but I deserve an award for the fact that I didn’t lose my shit. I won’t lie—I was close.
“Back to it daydreamer,” Megan titters, waving her hand in front of my face as she gestures to the inspiration piece Mr Crane had handed out to the entire class last period.
Megan continues chopping squiggly lines out of the edges of a piece of paper to entertain herself, already done with her Kandinsky-inspired piece where she used her coffee cup lid to trace circles on the page.
Simple yet effective, I guess. “I want out of here as soon as possible. It’s free shots till eight at Camp Curiosities. ”
And the wildest student bar name goes to...
“I need coffee,” I whine with wide puppy dog eyes, wishing one would magically appear so I could get through this without pulling my hair out at the root.
I had woken up late this morning, had my awkward interaction with Mateo, and hadn’t had time to pop by Glorie’s for my fix.
Three for three of the shit things to happen on a trifecta scale.
I guess I should be happy I got them ticked off before my day even had a chance to get started.
Lingering bad luck sucked more than a prostitute when rent was due.
“Coffee as an apology—I’ll remember that for next time,” Mateo remarks, planting a kiss on Megan’s lips, enjoying what remains of her slice of the strawberry dessert and sighing agreeably as he pulls away and licks the taste of her from his lips.
Art, Ebony—we were concentrating on the art.
It was okay to want a slice of happiness for yourself, right?
The unfurling heaviness that coils in my belly protests its needs, but I refuse to listen. As tired as I am, I’ll make sure to add some one-on-one time with my vibrator later. That should settle me some and stop all these wild thoughts about cowboys stealing me away in the dead of night.
Megan holds out her paper cup of cafeteria coffee to me, and my lip curls up in disgust. Even growing up destitute, I still hold the belief that there is no excuse for a shitty cup of coffee.
“No thanks.”
Considering I acquire most of my meals from the leftovers at Glorie’s at the end of my shift, you would think I’d be a little less picky.
Screw that.
For the sake of my guts, the abysmal offering of caffeine here has me stoic on my choice to accept the exhaustion that has my eyelids heavy and my brain tired.
I swipe the sharpened pencil between my fingers across my drawing pad, charcoal heavy in the darkest parts of my design on the thinning paper.
Three more minutes of debating whether I can even draw, and I’m finally done with what I hope will get me the extra points I need to pass this portion of the course.