Falling For Insanity

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen:

Rosie Mae's POV

It had been a long night. Blake did his best to help me but I just didn't feel as safe with him, as comfortable. Which sounds crazy since I've been dating him for a year. Eric sent a calmness over me even amongst all of his chaos, I just know he'd do die protecting me.

Blake seemed to be more mad that I smoked than concerned about me having a panic attack. Throughout the night and "helping" me, he sent little jabs my way about smoking without him or being hypocritical. Maybe none of this I could argue, but it wasn't the right time for him to try to make a problem out of it. He couldn't even wait till the morning or at least until the panic attack was over to take his jealousy out on me.

Surprisingly enough, Eric has made me feel more wanted, desired, and cared about the past few weeks than Blake has. Everything between us was so perfect until Eric showed up for the break. Especially after Blake's apology for how's he's been acting, I half expected him to suit up and show up to help me. Blake is distracted. I don't know what it is but there's something adverting his attention from me.

Whereas Eric...

Eric doesn't want to take his away from me. When I am in the room, I am the only thing that matters to him, he makes that known to me. Blake used to be a little like that. Eric is more intense about it, more obsessed with me than anything.

And I like it.

I hate so much that I like it but there's something about him that just invites me in. I don't want to stay away as much as I should or as much as I should run as far as I can.

Eric once made my body hum in fear. Now he made my body hum in fear and lust. I ought to be ashamed of myself.

I tried to be as quiet as possible, getting out of bed to use the bathroom. Blake snores loudly from next to me, dead asleep after all the drinking he did. He was definitely going to be hungover. I should probably get him some water and Tylenol while I'm up.

I creep open the door, tip toeing through it.

I stop in my tracks when I see Eric sitting against the wall across the hall, asleep. His head slumped forward and to the side a bit, chest rising and falling steady. His hands laid limp in his lap, holding his phone that he had fallen asleep scrolling through.

He looks peaceful, like he didn't have a million things to keep up with on a daily basis. Eric's demeanor was always somewhat nonchalant, emotionless. Right now he looked serene. I wish I could see him like this all the time.

It's the first time I had seen Eric shirtless, wearing just a pair of sweatpants. His right arm was tatted from his wrist to his shoulder, covering his skin completely. He had a few chest tattoos as well. Not only did that draw me in, it's was his lean, strong build as well. Underneath those long sleeved shirts and sweatshirts, anyone could tell he was muscular. But with his clothes off, it was a whole other story. Minus his retched personality, he is the perfect man.

"Eric..." I whisper, kneeling down in front of him and shaking his leg gently. "Eric, you fell asleep in the hallway. Wake up."

Eric groaned a little, his sleepiness making him seem vulnerable and cute as he lifted a hand to rub his eyes that slowly opened after. "Rosie Mae." His sexy, scruffy voice said with a hint of a grin. "How are you feeling?"

"Embarrassed." My smile is faint as I avert my gaze to the floor next to us.

"I asked; how are you feeling?" He repeated himself, causing me to meet his stare again that's now laced with genuine concern.

"Fine." I answered truthfully. "I feel fine. Just exhausted, I think." I push my hair out of my face with a sigh.

Being so needy in front of Eric, even voicing my desire for his help with my panic attack, made me want to go back in time and just not smoke at all. I just wanted to see what all the talk was about. To me, it just didn't live up to its reputation. The way it made me so paranoid made it impossible to understand how it made people relaxed.

The sound of Blake's snores echoed through the hallway. Eric glances past me, at the cracked door and then back at me. "You should get some rest." He advises, checking the time on his phone. "It's four in the morning."

I didn't want to. I want to stay here with him, even if it's in silence.

"Did you really get so drunk that you passed out on the floor...in the hallway...alone?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

Eric stretched, raising those big arms above his head. I tried not to drool over the sight. "You said you needed me and I couldn't be there because Blake was." He tells me. "So I waited here in case you wanted me to step in."

Was that Eric's way of being a little...romantic? He'd really sleep against a wall, on a hard floor just to make sure he'd get to me as fast as he could if I needed him? Blake had barely noticed I was gone for almost an hour with Eric and his friends but Eric went out of his way to ensure my comfortability.

I'd hate to compare the two of them considering Eric is a cold blooded killer. Blake should have zero competition. Though for some reason, I can't help but to compare the way Eric makes me feel stronger and stronger towards him every time I see him to the way Blake is pushing me farther and father from him every day.

"You're serious...?"

"When am I not?"

He made a fair point. The man could be sarcastic, rude, and arrogant but one thing he never did was crack a joke. He's right, he's always serious, what a dumb thing of me to ask.

"Why would you do that?" I asked, getting comfortable, sitting fully down on my legs now. I noticed him watch my movements, a small smile forming on his lips when realizing I was staying put.

"Don't act so dumb." Eric chuckled, scanning me over. "You already called me out on it once before."

I glanced down at myself, just now remembering that I'm only in a big long sleeved t-shirt. I didn't foresee running into Eric at this hour so I felt no need to change before heading to the restroom. My cheeks flushed as I felt his gaze wonder over my face, as if trying to figure out what I'm thinking.

"I don't think you understand how frustrating you are." He continued before I got a chance to come up with a response as I was left speechless. "I always think I know what's going on in the pretty little head of yours...then you do or say something something to make me believe I actually have no f*****g clue. I'm trying to figure you out."

I laugh a little, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Then you can imagine how frustrating you are to me." I tell him, dropping my hand to my lap. "You're like a figure of my imagination...sometimes I don't even think you're real."

"That's the goal."

"It shouldn't be with the people you're close with."

"You consider us close?"

"I don't know. That's not what I was saying."

"That's kinda what you implied."

I hold my head in my hands and groan before laughing. "See? This is why you're so frustrating. How do I even respond to that?"

"You just answer the question." He says, tone filled with amusement along with his expression.

I roll my eyes but do as he says. "We spend a lot of time together, even if it is forced." His eyes rows drew together as the word 'forced' left my lips. "But I wouldn't say we're close. We don't know anything about each other."

"Forced is the incorrect word to use, Rosie Mae." He tells me in a matter a fact voice, much like the voice he uses with everything he says. "No one made you to hangout with me last night and I don't believe I'm holding you hostage right now. You want to be here, Rosie. This relationship might begin to make more sense if you admit it."

There wasn't any room for me to argue with him. I had in fact went into his room in search for him with my own free will. I am sitting here on my own accord, I didn't need to wake him up at all but I did and here I am, still sitting with him in the comfort of his presence.

Before meeting him, the thought of having any other feeling besides repulsion towards a murderer was insane. With no explanation as to how, I didn't feel anywhere close to repulsed with him. Anyone would be horrified with me for finding a murderer so appealing.

"Why does it matter rather or not I want to be here, Eric?" I asked, still avoiding the question. "It's not like it changes anything."

"It changes a lot."

"Like what?"

"Like me not feeling like I'm forcing you to be around me." He answers honestly. "Like finding a normalcy in all of this." He catches my gaze. "Like maybe having a chance with you."

I can't help the blush I wear at his last sentence. "There's no chance you'll ever have." No matter the attraction I have towards him, it didn't effect the love I share and have for Blake. That isn't just turned off because I find Eric to be dangerously hot.

"I've told you before and I'll tell you again; I love Blake. And in case you've forgotten, he's your brother." I remind him but it doesn't change the entertainment on his face. "Which means there's even less of a chance, not that there was any to begin with."

"You're excellent at sending mixed signals." Eric states in a humorless tone.

I scoff. "Everyone drunkenly flirts with whoever is there in front of them. It doesn't mean anything."

"Not when they're in relationships." He says. "And I'll say it again...you sought me out last night. I wasn't just there." I stare blankly at him as a satisfied grin reaches his lips. "You know you won't be able to argue with me on this, Rosie Mae."

"I can argue anything."

"Now that, I actually believe."

The way he studies me makes my body run hot. I chew on my bottom lip nervously, not having liquid courage this time.

His head tilts slightly as he says, "Do you ever go home?"

The question catches me off guard, one I wasn't expecting. Although it was a reasonable question given that I'm always with Blake, Faith, or Eric. The only time I liked to spend at home was to sleep.

"I have to sleep somewhere." I answer, making light of the topic that I never talked about, not even with Blake.

"You don't like it at home." He says in more of a statement than a question.

I pause, not sure if I want to be honest about my home life. "There's nothing there for me." I tell him simply.

"Not even family?"

It was strange that he was asking me personal things like this. We hadn't gotten to that stage, a stage I didn't expect us to get to given the reasons we even talk each other in the first place. Though I felt the information to be safe with him.

I give a short shrug, not trying to make a big deal about the topic. "My sister has been out of the house for a couple years now. I never really knew my dad, he left when I was really young." The thought of my mom sleeping off a high right now just wake up and do it again, makes me cringe. "My mom struggled with substance abuse. She's kind of irrelevant to our lives."

"But she's there? At home?"

I nod. "She's there. Let's just say the the does enough to pay the bills and leaves it at that...sometimes she doesn't even pay the bills."

"You couldn't go live with your sister when she moved out?" He went on.

"She went to college. It wasn't an option at the time. Now I'm so close to graduating that it would be pointless to move now." That was one of the first ideas my sister had when in her last few months of high school. After many conversations, we both knew in our hearts that my sister couldn't hold herself back. She had to go after the career she was passionate about; teaching. I couldn't make her push back enrolling in school to get an apartment and take care of me until I turn eighteen.

It was the first time I had ever spoken any of this out loud, really explained the situation to someone without just surface level answers or changing the topic as quickly as possible. With every word I spoke, I felt the weight lift higher and higher off of my chest.

"Is that what you're going to do after you graduate? Go to college?" He stands to his feet, holding out a hand to help me up.

I take it, his big hand engulfing mine as I say, "well I don't have the money my own place. With school, I can get scholarships and loans." He lifted me to my feet before letting go of my hand, leaving it cold and wanting.

"I can help you." He tells me, not elaborating but not having to. We both were aware of the ways he could help.

"I'd have to think about it." I mumble

"You know what they say, Rosie Mae..."

I look up at him, expectantly.

"You study long...you study wrong."