Asya
Pathetic.
Weak.
That’s how I feel as Pasha carries me back to his apartment. I can’t gather the courage to even lift my head and look up because I’m afraid I’ll freak out again. Instead, I keep my face buried in his neck.
I don’t understand why he keeps troubling himself with me. All I did was barge into his life and make a mess out of it. I’ve been dreading the moment when he’ll sit me down and tell me it’s time for me to leave. It’s bound to happen, and probably soon. I’m nothing to him. I can’t keep disrupting his life. But just the idea of leaving his side makes me shudder from the terror it unleashes inside of me.
“Let’s get you showered,” Pasha says as he carries me inside the apartment.
In the bathroom, he stops next to the shower stall, waiting for me to let him go.
