I ignored the signs, and there were several, flashing in blinding neon lights with warnings about that asshole’s odd behavior. But did I listen? Did I even hesitate in the slightest when it came time to meet up with a complete stranger, and then proceed to bring him back to my place? Alone?
No, I didn’t.
My pussy was running the show, and she’s the dumbest bitch I’ve ever met.
I was so fucking dead-set on getting laid and making last summer a distant memory, I blocked out the tiny, cautionary voice in my head and nearly got myself killed. My own apprehension didn’t stop me; Luke couldn’t stop me. Hell, if anything, I was more driven to leave with Tyler after Luke voiced his opinion of the situation.
Don’t do something stupid right now.
His words fill my head as I let it hang between my shoulders, digging harder into the tender spot on my neck until a muted whimper escapes my lips. I drop my hand when I can’t take it anymore, when my legs nearly give out and my entire body begins to tremble from the sting.
But even then, I still feel it. The pain I’ve felt during the past year remains a constant, like a fever that won’t break.
I stay in the shower for what feels like hours, only finally stepping out once all the hot water has been used. I wrap a towel around me, lifting my gaze to the mirror above my sink, and stare at my reflection.
Skin flushed, eyes tired and swollen, a shake in my hand as I raise it to wipe the water drops off my forehead. I turn away when I don’t want to look anymore, when I no longer feel any sympathy for the girl staring back at me. I open the bathroom door and peer down the hallway toward the living room, greeted only by silence.
“Luke?”
I investigate further and find an empty apartment. A tidied up empty apartment. The vacuum is out, propped against the wall, and the coffee table has been moved slightly. But other than that, everything is in order. No signs of a struggle. Nothing giving away that anything out of the ordinary happened tonight.
Except for me. I give it away.
I half expected to find Luke waiting for me so he could rip me a new one, or rub in the fact that I should’ve listened to him, but he’s gone. As is the asshole that brought him here. Maybe he’s said enough to me tonight. He’s done enough, that’s for sure. I don’t want to think about what could’ve happened if he hadn’t shown up.
I’ve never been scared like that. I’ve never felt anything even close to that kind of panic. And it had worsened with the sound of Luke screaming my name, trying to get to me.
He won’t make it, I’d thought. The fear in his voice is the last sound I’ll hear.
But it wasn’t.
I thought I was scared when I didn’t think he’d get to me in time, but that was nothing compared to what I felt when he came through the door and his eyes found mine.
That look would’ve stolen my breath, if it weren’t already being taken from me.
Luke Evans doesn’t usually show emotion like the rest of us. But in that moment, I wasn’t sure who was more terrified. Him or me.
I walk back to my bedroom and toss the damp towel onto my bed, grabbing an oversized T-shirt and a pair of panties out of my dresser. After slipping them on, I discard the towel in my hamper and start combing out my hair.
A cracking sound comes from the hallway, followed by another one—louder this time, and given the events of tonight, I go to the worse possible explanation for the noise and let it cripple me with panic.
The comb hits the floor, along with my stomach, as the noise echoes out one final time before the only sound I hear is my heavy breathing.
“Luke?” I barely choke out, moving closer to my partially opened bedroom door. “Luke, are you there?”
I hear something, the softest sound, in the distance. A jingle of keys, maybe? It gets louder as I stare at the two-inch crack in my door and find myself once again flushed with terror. I move closer, reaching for the handle as the incessant noise grows louder.
“Luke?” I whisper, seconds before the door nudges open and the reason for the noise comes barreling at me.
I break, dropping to my knees as my anxiety dissipates into the air above me. Max sniffs all over my head, rubbing his cold nose in my hair and on my face as I grab onto his neck.
“Jesus, Max. You scared the shit outta me.” I grab onto his collar, the two ID plates clinging against each other and causing the sound I was unsure of moments ago. I tilt my head as I rub the top of his, smiling when he leans into my hand. “Yeah, I missed you too.”
I stand and walk out of my room, watching as Max pushes past me and goes into my bathroom where he lays over one of my air vents. That dog has the weirdest fascination with bathrooms. Continuing down the hallway, I stop when I come up behind the couch.
Luke drops a duffle bag on the floor by the vacuum, shoves the front door closed, and locks it. He lifts his head, his eyes heavy with judgment as they fall on me.
I glance at the duffle. “What’s going on? Why is Max here?”
He runs a hand over his buzzed hair to the back of his neck where he grips it. “Your door isn’t secure. I can get it changed out tomorrow but right now, locking it doesn’t really do shit.”
“So, you’re going to spend the night?”
Good God. Can I even handle a sleepover with Luke, knowing that he’s in my apartment, and being very aware of what he isn’t wearing to bed?
He grabs his shoulder and begins massaging it, keeping his head down. “Your brother would be on my ass if he knew I let you stay here by yourself when someone could easily walk in. And you’re not staying at my house.” His hand falls to his side with a heavy sigh as his eyes lose focus.
I mask the strange hurt I feel at that reasoning, and also decide against bringing up the obvious solution to this problem—staying at my parents’ house. For some reason, going against Luke’s genius uncomfortable sleepover plan seems like an argument I should probably avoid.
“You didn’t have to do that.” I motion toward the vacuum. “I would’ve cleaned up after I…”
“It’s done,” he interjects bitterly, removing his gaze so quickly after he speaks, it’s as if he can’t stand to look at me another second.
I bite back my typical response to his asshole tendencies, knowing I owe him a lot right now, and settle for what he deserves to hear from me.
“Thank you. Not just for that. For everything tonight.”
He ignores me, popping out the chamber from the vacuum and walking past me with it into the kitchen. He holds it above the trashcan and empties the contents, grabbing the bag and tying it off before walking toward the door.
I block him, putting my body between him and his exit. “Did you hear what I said?”
He looks down at me, and his jaw twitches in the corner just below his ear before he speaks. “Yeah, I heard you.”
“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”
“No.” He steps sideways to move past me, but I move with him. His eyes find mine, flashing a warning. “Leave this alone.”
I tilt my head up, getting closer. “Leave what alone? What’s your problem? I’m trying to thank you for what you did.”
He moves into me, dropping the bag and the canister on the floor before backing me up until I’m pushed against the couch. He places a hand on either side of me, gripping the edge, preventing my escape. His head angles down and I suck in a breath, turning my head to prevent his skin from touching mine.