“Uncle Alex might know who did it. He’s taking care of it so you don’t have to worry about it ok?” Aunt Emma gives me a small smile.
I want to return her smile but I don’t. My thoughts are scattered like broken glass and my emotions are a mess. I’m exhausted.
An hour later I walk into the entry way of my apartment, grateful to be home. Before I can step into the living room, Demi comes running down the short hallway. She grabs me in a hug and nearly knocks my breath from my lungs.
“Oh my God!” she cries, “I’m so glad you’re ok.”
“Me too,” I choke back, trying to fight my own tears.
She pulls back and gives me the once-over. The concern on her face is endearing. “Can you tell me what happened?” I ask.
She nods and her eyes gloss over again. She pulls me to the couch and we sit down before she starts recalling the events of the previous night.
“You and Luke stopped by Nicky’s after your date,” Demi’s voice is soft with a slight tremor. “He bought you two drinks and then you started acting weird. It was like you were wasted but I knew it wasn’t possible after only two drinks. I took you to the bathroom and you got sick.” She fiddles with her hands in her lap and I place my hand on top of hers to reassure her. I need to hear what happened. It’s the only way to quiet the noise in my head. “You started getting really sick and when I looked again, you had collapsed on the floor against the toilet. You just kept heaving until there was nothing left. You stopped responding after an hour and I panicked. I called Grayson and he came and got you. I was so scared!” I pull her too me and hug her close, barely able to keep a lid on my own tears. If I break down now it will be too much. I can’t handle more.
“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling her body sag. She pulls back and wipes her tears. “I’m going to go lie down. Maybe we can make some popcorn and watch a movie later?”
“I’d like that.”
I get up and make my way towards my room. After seeing my face in the mirror I decide a hot shower is in order. When the water cascades over my skin I finally allow myself to cry. I hate feeling so weak. I’ve been through worse than this and my overpowering need to cry is a mystery. I’m tired of crying. I’ve been doing too much of that in the past few weeks.
When I make it to my bed I collapse into the comfort and safety of it. Sleep engulfs me and my dreams run rampant with images of last night. Only I’m not scared. Because in my dreams Grayson is showering me with sweet kisses and freely succumbs to what he feels for me. What we feel for each other.
** ** ** ** **
By mid-week my frustration levels are through the roof. Uncle Alex has me escorted everywhere by one of his football players. Rumors about Luke are circulating, some worse than others, but my name isn’t mentioned. I can’t figure out whether my irritation is a result of being escorted all the time or because the only person who hasn’t escorted me yet is Grayson. I haven’t seen him and he hasn’t made any effort to see me. I want to get to the bottom of it because this back-and-forth is driving me crazy, not to mention consuming my every thought. If I’m being honest with myself, I want him to talk to me first. I don’t want to be the one to grovel.
Maybe things are better off this way.
Oh who am I kidding?
I want him.
But I guess he doesn’t feel the same way.
It’s just after eight pm and I’ve spent my afternoon distracting myself with studying. My course load isn’t too heavy but I still want to perform well academically in all my classes.
I get in the shower and the heat from the water infuses with my rigid muscles, releasing all the pent up tension from the last few days. For a few short minutes my mind is blank and I revel in the sense of calm it brings.
A commotion coming from outside my room captures my attention. It sounds like Demi is arguing with someone. Probably Tommy. They’ve been having problems ever since she moved in with me. I suspect it has something to do with Brody; their feelings for each other are becoming more and more obvious. I’ve been meaning to bring it up with Demi but the time hasn’t been right. Part of me is hoping she’ll trust me enough to bring it up on her own.
The sound of my bedroom door hitting the wall makes me jump and I’m immediately pulled out of the sanctity of the calm surrounding me. The bathroom door soon swings open, violently ricocheting off the adjoining wall. The sight in front of me causes my muscles to tense, the earlier feeling of relaxation disappearing like the steam that escapes through the now open door.
Grayson is standing in my doorway looking as hot as the fiery depths of hell. His dark wash jeans hug his lean hips and his black button up shirt clings to his broad, muscular chest. He looks angry. Flustered.