“You had better be on time,” I warn over my shoulder as I roll my suitcase toward the door to the apartment building.
That cocky smirk I love so much finally returns, brightening his eyes. “Promise to do a body shot with me and I’ll even be early.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “See ya, Adam.”
When he says, “See ya, Peach,” I don’t look back. I can’t, because my knees are already shaking. I hear his driver’s side door click open and closed just before I step up to the apartment building, and then I open the door and force my legs to carry me inside.
I immediately walk to the inside wall and press my back against it, squeezing my eyes shut and sucking in a deep breath. That was so much harder than I imagined it would be, and I’d already imagined it being pretty damn hard. Nothing is going to be the same when I see him tomorrow in class. Deep down in my clenching gut, I know I’ll go right back to just being another girl to him. If I’m lucky, he’ll say hi to me in passing. And then my heart will trip over itself to pump blood into my arm so I can wave at him before I take my usual seat beside Leti.
Eh, who am I kidding? There will be no words or waves because Adam and I will never actually pass each other. He gets to class after me and leaves before me. There won’t even be any passing words or smiles, no friendly phone calls or breakfasts at IHOP. He said he wants me to come to Mayhem when his band performs in two weeks, and I’ll go—hopefully Peach will still be on the backstage list. And if I actually get backstage, I know he’ll let me stay, even if he’s . . . preoccupied.
Which is my own damn fault.
For good reasons. Good reasons, good reasons. If I just keep reminding myself of that, maybe this will stop being so damn tough.
After collecting myself, I muster the courage to climb the stairs. Two flights, and then I’m standing in front of Brady’s door. I probably should’ve called. Hell, I should probably call now. But this is my apartment too, and I’m not going to pretend it’s not. I rummage around in my purse for my keys. If I’m going to be living here, I don’t need to call or knock or anything, and I don’t need to forgive him either. I don’t owe him anything—if he wants my forgiveness, he’s going to have to earn it, and no one said I had to make it easy.
I’m pretty sure that entering a conversation with him when I’m this irritated isn’t the best way to start things, but it’s too late for that because I’m already getting myself worked up, putting up a wall between us before I even step foot inside the apartment.
Good. It’s probably for the best.
I could have called Dee and told her this is where I was coming, but I didn’t want her to feel like she pushed me back into Brady’s arms. Or worse, I didn’t want her to jump in her car and speed over here to physically restrain me from making what I know she would think is a mistake of epic proportions. The real mistake would be allowing my best friend in the entire world to get kicked out of her dormitory her first semester of college. Dee’s always been an amazing friend to me, and now I have to be one to her.
I’ll call her after Brady and I talk—when it’s too late for her to do anything drastic. I’ll call her after resolutions have been reached and decisions have been made and all the uncertainty I’m feeling right now has been erased by a long, dramatic, exhausting conversation that I’ve been putting off for far too long.
I take a weighted breath and squeeze the key to the apartment between my fingers. Then I twist it in the lock and push open the door—to see the last thing in the world I ever fucking expected. My sort-of-ex-boyfriend and that girl from the fucking club, half naked and writhing on the couch.
“You’ve got to be fucking KIDDING me!”
Brady looks up from where he’s buried balls-deep in what I’m assuming is a herpes-infested vagina. A look of shock and then of absolute horror washes across his face, and he scrambles to pull on his pants. I’m already racing back down the hallway.
“Rowan! Wait! No!”
Suitcase in hand, I reach the end of the hall and throw myself into the stairwell, slamming the door behind me. I take the stairs faster than anyone with a sense of self-preservation would take them, thanking God that all I brought with me on the trip were flats.
Seconds after the door bangs closed, I hear Brady throw it open, and then his voice is echoing after me down the well. “Rowan! Baby, please!”
I’m practically tripping down the stairs, missing one here or there and stumbling to catch my footing. I’m not even looking where I’m going because my eyes are on my phone and Adam’s number is on my screen.
“Baby! I can explain!”