He’s going to make me the villain. I’ve heard his other songs, ones he claims are about Travis’s ex. They don’t paint her in a good light. Sure, I asked him to write a song about me, but that was before. I thought it was going to be a cute love song.
Every second that passes without an answer makes my blood pressure rise. When the voicemail kicks on, I jab my finger on the screen. I go outside and order an Uber. When the car arrives, I down the rest of my drink and toss the empty cup on the sidewalk. I’m going to feel guilty if I remember that tomorrow. Maybe I can come back to clean it up.
As soon as I’m in the car, I text Ellie. She’s going to be pissed, but she’ll understand. She wouldn’t want her best friend vilified insome song.
When the car pulls into the parking lot, I stumble out and climb his stairs, using the railing as support.
Damn, have there always been this many steps?
I raise my fist and knock before I can change my mind. When he doesn’t answer immediately, I pound again, impatient.
The door swings open, but it’s not Penn on the other side, it’s a girl. For a moment, I’m pissed, but as my vision adjusts, I realize it’s Pacey.
“Hi!”
“Uh, hi.” All the confidence and anger I had on the way here dies down at her smiling face. How is she always in a good mood? I sway, grabbing the railing. The building is spinning. “Is P-Penn here?”
“He’s not. He’s with the guys.” Her brows lower as she watches me hold on to the rail for dear life.
I purse my lips. Well, this is awkward. “Okay, cool. I’m just gonna?—”
“Do you want to come in? He should be back soon,” she says quickly, her arm out like she wants to reach for me.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m making something to eat. I could use the company.” My eyes move to hers. They’re blue like Penn’s, not quite as piercing, but pretty nonetheless. Did he tell her he doesn’t want to see me anymore? God, what does she think of me showing up like this?
When I don’t respond, she steps out and grabs my arm gently. “Come on, I just made coffee. It’s decaf,” she adds with a smile.
I don’t have the heart to tell her that sounds awful. That I can only drink iced coffe made by Penn now.
Pacey guides me to the couch, and the familiar scent of thisplace settles me. I breathe it in. My body melts into the leather, and I close my eyes, suddenly so tired.
The desperate urge to pee forces me awake. I’ve been holding it in forever. I sit up fast, and my head spins. My hands fly out as if I can steady the room around me.
It’s dark.
Where am I?
My panicked eyes dart around the room, squinting to find something familiar. A loud exhale spills from my mouth when I realize I’m in Penn’s room.
My heart thuds. I glance over and find the place next to me empty. I ignore the pang of disappointment and slide from the bed and into his bathroom.
After I relieve myself, I wash my hands and check my reflection. My mascara is smeared, my braid falling loose with strands of hair sticking out in every direction. I wipe my face the best I can and sneak a bit of his mouthwash before I turn off the light.
I tiptoe to the closed door and ease it open, straining my ears for any sound. I keep on my toes, creeping down the hall. Penn is stretched out across his couch, his long legs hanging over the edge. My heart thumps in my chest, a mix of sadness and excitement fluttering in my stomach. It’s the most I’ve felt in weeks.
I step closer. The apartment is dark, but the stove light is on, giving enough glow for me to see.
He’s sleeping, one hand dangling from the couch. The other, his tattooed arm, lies across his eyes. Those hands have given me immense pleasure. I miss them.
I miss him.
He’s wearing gray sweatpants, the waistline of his boxer briefs peeking out, and no shirt, leaving his smooth chest andlightly defined abs on display. It makes my mouth water. He’s so damn beautiful.
My heartbeat falls between my legs, stirring another feeling. I blame the alcohol for the fact that my fingers glide across his chest, along the ink that decorates his skin.
“Olivia?” he rasps, sleepiness coating his voice.
