Without turning to face him, I shrugged. “You have enough company here to keep you occupied, Bishop.” I realized how sober I was at this point, which was very unfortunate considering the drinks I consumed were for the sole purpose of once again, coming face to face with my high school nemesis-slash-first love. Bishop was my kryptonite, but I was no Lois Lane, and he was no Superman. What he was? Was an addiction I couldn’t break. No amount of time spent at a rehab clinic could help me, because I didn’t want to help myself. I was addicted to the burn that crusted over my vulnerable heart every time he broke it, because sometimes, the very few times that I have seen another side to Bishop, made all those pieces worth breaking for. Made him worth it. I was a junkie chasing my next high, and just hoping, that this wasn’t the time I overdosed on a love so toxic, and so far out of my reach, that I would damn near kill myself just to know how it feels one last time. I wasn’t afraid to die, I was afraid I’d never feel the heat from his hand wrapped around my heart, right before he’d shatter it into millions of pieces. I was, in short, a lost cause.
So, even though I heard the doors to the elevator ping open, I turned to finally face him, pinching my lips together when I saw the cut below his right eyebrow and the blood slightly seeping out from his bottom lip. He still had no shirt on, and his tank, I could see, was tucked into his back pockets. He only wore his military boots on his feet, and sweat glistened off each and every tight muscle he had. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to seeing Bishop in all his glory. He was just too magnificent for the average eye. Finally, my eyes collided with his, and I was waiting for a cocky comeback. Maybe something funny. But I got nothing. I got a blank stare that gave away nothing. I hadn’t received this impassive look since I first met Bishop.
The doors closed, and the longer our eyes remained connected, the more it felt as though all of the oxygen was being sucked out of the room. The walls were closing in, everything in my peripheral fading black, and all that I could see was him. His frighteningly vacant eyes. The kind that holds your interest and has your thighs clenching together, all while sending chills down your spine. His lips. The curve of his upper rim and how it dipped in the middle, while his bottom one seemed plumper. The sharpness of his jaw, that was as though Greek gods had sharpened it with a magical fucking sword of beauty. With that, you had Bishop, who had you second guessing all biblical and scientific history lesson you ever got as a kid, because there was no way someone this perfect was created out of sheer genetics.
I cleared my throat out of my daze when everything came back into real time. Stepping closer toward him, I reached for his cheek, and his eyes dropped to my mouth.
“I’ll clean you up before I leave.”
He didn’t answer, and I searched his features for a clue or any kind of reaction, but again, was met with the same vacant, hazy look. So I hooked my index finger around his, testing the waters to see if he was going to allow it since he hadn’t said anything before then. I felt him still, and then his eyebrows pulled together, and just when I thought he was about to tell me to fuck off, his finger tightened around mine and he pulled me into his chest. I ignored the spraying of blood that was strewn over his flesh as his other hand came to my face. His fingers grasped my chin as he tilted my head up toward him.
“I. Don’t. Share. Madison. Ever.”
I swallowed past the massive lump in my throat. So it was still about that. “I—”
He shook his head, his finger squeezing my chin. His eyes pierced into mine, as his lips lightly brushed over my mouth. “Ever.”
I gulped and then nodded. “Okay.”
Then his lips crashed down onto mine and all senses inside of me exploded everywhere, unlocking the latch that kept my legs up. His arm hooked around my back as his tongue dipped into my mouth, sliding against my own before he pulled away slightly, taking my breath away but leaving the soft tang of metallic slipping down my throat.
“I’ll get these fucking people out of my house.” He pressed his lips to mine, so softly, so gently, giving one peck of a kiss. That, against all of the other kisses I had been owned by from him, this was the one that seized my heart. I was putty in his hands. He took me out the kitchen, catching Jase’s eye. “Tell everyone to fuck off.”
Jase stared between the two of us and then grinned. “How long is this little cute act going to last this time?” Bishop’s arm, that was wrapped around the back of my neck, tensed. I thought it was from Jase’s remark, but then he tucked me under his arm farther and kissed the top of my head.
“Has it ever really never been her?”
Jase’s grin deepened, his eyes continuously going between the two of us. “I guess not.”
My heart felt swollen in my chest, but my legs and muscles ached from fatigue, so I was thankful when Bishop led me to the stairs that were in the sitting room. I thought the room I went into earlier was the master bedroom, I guess not.
“Hey!” Jase yelled out, just as my hand landed on the railing. We both turned to look over our shoulders to find Hunter, Nate, and Brantley, all now smiling with eyes sparkling with adrenaline, grinning at us. It was the first time since before Bishop had found out about my shenanigans that there had been any sort of air of peace surrounding us all. I understood now. Why Bishop had to do what he did tonight. It was not only to make a point but to restore the peace within the group. The trust. They were like brothers, and unlike girls, they weren’t catty. They took their shit into a ring, punched it out, and then got over it. I guessed in their world, it was the only way they could live to survive amongst each other. It made sense.
“She’s still my little sister!”
“—Our…” Hunter added, whacking Jase.
“—Our plus me, fuckers,” Nate added, giving them a dirty look as he pulled open the fridge, taking out a drink. People were slowly pouring back into the main living areas now, the silent space slowly being filled with soft chitchat.
Bishop scoffed. “Don’t give a fuck. She’s Bishop’s, her eyes say so, her body says so, her” —he lifted my shirt so they could see his initials on my ribs— “skin says so—”
I interrupted, sending them all a wink. “Her heart sort of says so, too…” It was no secret to Bishop how I felt about him, I knew that, and I’m pretty sure everyone else knew that too, so it didn’t bother me with how forward I was with my wording. His grip tightened around me anyway, and then he led me upstairs.
“We’ve decided we’re too young to be uncles!” Nate called out from down below. Bishop flipped him off over the railing and I laughed, shaking my head. That would be a nightmare. Then it started to sink in…did I ever want kids? Right now wasn’t the time.
“Wow.” I took in the bedroom and all its glory. Where his room back home was all black and disturbed young teenager, his room here was an off-white. White enough to know it’s white, but a tint of cream stirred in to accentuate the pearl trimmings. It was an attractive and clean contrast that was warm and inviting, regardless of the bareness of it all. His bed was to the far left side of the room, so whoever was on one side got a full view of the city while the other could see downstairs. I loved it. I watched as flames from the gas fire licked up the wall opposite the bed, sending out hues of burnt orange to fill the dimly lit room. I let out a soft sigh.
“This place is truly beautiful, Bishop.”
When I didn’t get a response, I looked directly at him, only to find he was already watching me. An interesting look pulled over his features. It wasn’t something I had seen him display before, and made me a little nervous and jumpy. He still managed to make me feel fear, and I think he always would because that was just who he was, and who he was to his core. It wasn’t a front, it was just Bishop. He was real and would never put on a front to make someone more comfortable. You either took him as he was, or you didn’t. Either way, it would never bother him. No one bothered him—and that was half of the charm and half of the fear.
“What is it?” My fingers laced with my hands nervously.
He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, slightly leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.
I followed, sitting beside him on the mattress, silently waiting for him to say something. Anything. For so long, I’d been wanting, praying, for him to open up to me a little. But every time he did open up, it seemed like all It would do is crack open more dark corners of his soul. It was an endless game of hide and seek where the counting was limitless.
“Goddammit, Madison,” he whimpered with so much emotion, it damn near almost knocked me flat on my face.
“What’d I do now?” I mentally began sifting through my memories with the help of my good pal anxiety, flicking through those pages to make sure I hadn’t done anything else wrong.