Chapter 19
1439 Words
Chapter 19
Evander didn’t come home until Monday morning.
I stood in the elevator and when I saw him in the lobby, I had to do a double take. He looked terrible. He was wearing the same clothes as Saturday. I didn’t say anything as I walked past him.
I presumed he must have had a good weekend with that girl. We stared at each other until I opened the door of the building.
I walk and start to make a to-do list on my phone. I get a notification that I haven’t posted something today and quickly go to my gallery. I scroll through all my photos until I’m at the book shop. I see the video I took of Patrick on the dance floor. I watch it and feel surprise wash over me when I recognize the girl standing behind him in the video.
Layla.
She was the one hitting him with her elbow. Why?
I watched the video repeatedly. There is a part where she is looking over her shoulder right at Patrick. Her brow is furrowed and she looks angry. My mind goes into overdrive and calculates how Patrick acted. He didn’t act differently. I go to i********: and search for her profile. I stalk her long and hard going through every post. I clicked on one of her and her boyfriend. She hides his face. Never showing him except his dark hair. I calmed down immediately. She posts something on her story but I wait a couple of minutes before I watch it.
It's her standing in front of a huge house with her dog getting ready to go on a jog. I stared at her Nike shorts and her small sports bra. The post was obviously to show off her body in the way she laughs at her dogs and flexes her stomach towards the camera. I hate myself for judging her, but something feels off. I got a notification that Patrick had posted a picture. The first picture is of him kissing me on the dance floor and the second of him and Evander. I see Layla has already liked the post. I frown, but decide to stalk Evander instead. I clicked on his name, but there was nothing on his profile. It’s blank in a way. He hasn’t posted in years.
Hm.
The last time he posted was actually just before I met him that night at the club. I tried to ignore the coincidence and check Layla’s profile again. I go stalk her on her other socials and find photos of her and Patrick when they were still in school on her f*******:. I stare too long and when Miss Penny clears her throat, I snap back to reality.
“Are you going to stare at your phone the whole day or actually work a bit?”
‘My shifts in an hour?” I object and I quickly thank her when she hands me a cup of coffee.
“The moment you step into this shop you should be writing or working! Put down that phone and write! I actually want to read that book of yours next year!”
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That night.
Patrick is not answering his phone and when I get home, I find Evander struggling with something in the kitchen. I find the courage to close the door behind me.
“Hi!”
He just grunts, not bothering to turn around. I slowly walked towards him, putting my keys purposely on the table to get a peak of what he was doing. He was shirtless and standing in his grey pants that were really too low on his hips. I see blood and I stop.
“What happened?” I ask and try to get a better look but he blocks me.
“An accident,” he says, his voice coming out strained.
“Evander, I think you need stitches, that's too much blood,” I say and he shakes his head.
``I'm fine, go to your room,” he orders, but I ignore him. I gripped his arm and tried to turn him to face me. After a couple of seconds, he finally budges. His eye is slightly bruised and there is a cut running across the palm of his left hand. Something shines between the blood and I realize its glass.
‘Did you break a glass?” I said, concerned as I inspected it. He shakes his head trying to take his hand back.
“The guy I beat decided to hit me over the head with a bottle. I didn’t think when I deflected the blow, I forgot my glasses at the office and can’t see the glass,” he says and I look at him.
“So you basically have hyperopia? You can’t see things up close?” I ask as I hold his hand between both of mine.
‘Yes,” he gunts and I realise the tiny pieces of glass must be cutting him everytime he moves his hand.
“Come with me,” I say said, and he shakes his head.
“You don’t have to, I can figure it out,” he says and I shake my head.
“I owe you, you helped me remember? That first night?” He tries to object but I ignore him and go get my tweezers.
I jump onto the counter sitting close to the sink. I was wearing a baggy black shirt with white shorts. I tie my hair up in a messy bun and eye my shorts for a second, worrying about the blood. It’s just blood that will hopefully wash out.
He gives me his hand when I give him a stern look and when I pull out the first piece, he makes a sound that sends panic right through me.
“F#cking hell that hurts,” he says and steps closer to me. His hips brushing against my knees. He rests his hand on the other side of me. His head is close to mine trying to see what I’m doing.
“Stand still,” I order when he tries to pull away when I get hold of the third piece. He takes another step closer forcing my knees open a bit. I ignore the sensation of him pushing against me as I try to focus on the pieces of glass. I got hold of a really big piece, but I couldn’t see it. There is too much blood. Some of it drips on my leg and I quickly hold his hand over the sink. I grab some of the medical alcohol and I don’t wait before I clean his wound. He curses and the next thing I know, he's biting down on my bare shoulder. I gasp, but he’s not biting hard enough to piece my skin. So I don’t move. I let him bite me.
I don’t stop cleaning his wound until his hand is clean. I’m shaking by the time his breath fans my shoulder. I pull out the last piece of glass and suck in a breath as I looked up at him. His eyes are slightly closed and he’s breathing hard staring at my shoulder. A moment passes. Another. He runs the bridge of his nose across my bare shoulder, his brow furrowing. I just watch him. I feel him place one of his hands on the top of my thigh. I try to breathe. I can’t move. I can’t think. I keep my hands at my sides. I try to say his name, but when his lips slightly brush my skin, I feel goosebumps run across my back. His other hand's fingers slightly brush my spine and I arch, shocked out of my skin by the sensitive contact. The gasp that leaves my mouth snaps him out of his trans and he jumps back. I jump down, wanting to demand what just happened. Why did he touch me like that? Why would he do that? Why would I let him do that? I felt sick. I should slap him. I’m about to say something to him, but the look on his face catches me off guard. I go into automatic mode and quickly grab the rest of the stuff to bandage his hand.
I don’t dare look back at him until I tie the knot. I then turned on my heels and ran straight for the bathroom. When I've finally calm down, I look up at myself in the mirror. I'm covered in Evander's blood.
I just stood there for the longest time studying the hand print on my leg.
- Writer
