For You

Chapter TWENTY-THREE

I followed the scent of bacon and coffee into the kitchen, where I found a dark-haired girl, wearing an oversized man's T-shirt and nothing else, fixing breakfast.

“Sorry. I knocked, but nobody came. Are you one of Sawyer's roommates?”

He'd not mentioned a female roommate, but I'd seen the guy he lived with, and couldn't imagine a girl wanted to spend the night with that guy, even though here she was right in front of me.

She stood there with her nipples sticking out of her shirt and said, “Uh, not really.”

“Then who are you?” I demanded.

She seemed embarrassed, and scared. My whole body felt like it was both frozen stiff and trembling at the same time.

“I'm a friend of the guys,” she said. “Do you want to stay for breakfast? I can set another plate.”

I looked down at the big knife sitting on the kitchen island between us. She'd been slicing oranges, and the tang of citrus was still in the air.

“Let me check with Sawyer first,” I said, my voice rising in pitch. “Is he upstairs? Where might I find him?”

She looked at me sideways, her eyes bugging out. “Up the stairs, first door on the right.”

“Is he still asleep?”

Not taking her eyes off me, she picked up the big knife and put it in the sink with some other dishes.

Carefully, she said, “I don't know.”

I turned around, having to command my legs to move. One foot in front of the other. Keep going. You need to do this.

Up the stairs I climbed, my pulse pounding in my throat.

Had Sawyer f*cked that girl from the kitchen? Someone had, by the guilty look on her face.

If it was him, that was fine. Fine. Better to know sooner than later, better to be heartbroken now than made a fool of.

When I hit the top step, I heard a girl giggle, and it wasn't the girl from downstairs. I collapsed, my legs buckling underneath me. My breath was audible, so I knew I was still alive, but just barely.

Something picked me up—some force. Rage, maybe. I stood at the first door at the top of the stairs and reached for the handle. The door wouldn't open. The knob twisted, but it seemed to be blocked by something.

I knocked on the door. “Sawyer?”

The stereo was still going downstairs, and I couldn't hear anything over the music.

I banged on the door harder. “It's Aubrey. Open this door before I f*cking kick it down.”

A second later, it swung open, and a surprised-looking Sawyer stood blinking at me. He wore nothing but a pair of boxers with dots on them, and his hair was messy. I could see the bed behind him, and nobody else was in it.

He said, “What are you doing here?”

I pushed past him into the room. “Where is she? I heard a girl in here.” The bi-fold closet doors were open, showing only clothes and a few cardboard boxes. I turned around and looked at the rumpled duvet on the bed. It seemed lumpy, so I whipped it back, expecting to find a girl hiding in there. No girl.

Sawyer stood there in a daze. Did he not remember sending me those messages last night? Apparently not.

I yelled, “Where is she?!”

“Aubrey, calm down. As you can see, there's no girl in this room.”

“Who the f*ck is downstairs? Who's that?”

“I don't know. There's someone downstairs?”

I heard the laugh again, on the other side of the wall, and then a door opened and closed. Beyond the doorway to Sawyer's bedroom, a girl ran past, toward the stairs. She was a blonde, and not wearing much more than the other girl I'd seen downstairs.

Slowly and carefully, I said, “Who all lives here? Just you and one other guy?”

“Yeah.” He looked cagey, and he kept turning to face me, as if he didn't want me to see his back.

“What's on your back?”

“Huh?”

I stepped forward and slapped him on the chest with both hands. “Don't play stupid. Do you have scratches on your back from some f*cking slut? A girl just ran down the stairs, and there's another girl in the kitchen, so you just try and tell me how stupid you think I am.”

He held his hands out, the hint of a weird smile on his face. “Aubrey, I don't know what to say. Obviously you're going to believe what you want to believe.”

“Right. I see how this goes. I'm the crazy one. I'm paranoid. You have to break up with me because obviously I'm the ONE WITH ISSUES!”

He moved his head, and his expression changed, looking more confused, but still he didn't say anything.

I wanted to hit him so bad, but I just shoved him out of my way as I went for the door. “F*ck your stupid, arty tattoos and f*ck you.”

Down the stairs I went, and right out the door. I wasn't getting away fast enough, so I started to jog.

I heard my name. Sawyer was coming after me.

I started to run, tears streaming down my cheeks as I gasped for breath.

My sandals kept tripping me up, slowing me down. I hit the end of the block and turned left, onto the pavement.

A car screeched to a halt, inches from my legs.

Sobbing and hysterical, I kept running, even as the driver got out and called after me, asking if I needed help.

I got to the end of the next block, and I kept running, feeling like I might collapse from pain. My legs were weak and starting to buckle again, just like they had back at the house. I leaned forward to catch my breath, and the ground rushed up at me.

Tattooed arms caught me. Sawyer, still bare-chested, wearing jeans but no shoes, pulled me into him.