Either A. Jenny was right, and faeries are real.
And very vindictive, considering my current situation.
Or B. I did a massive amount of drugs last night.
I’m not sure which reality I’d prefer.
Faeries, maybe?
It would be one hell of a trip otherwise.
Whatever the explanation, I should leave this room. Fast.
With all the stealth and grace I can muster and a bit of lady-like grunting, I roll toward the edge of the bed. Almost. There.
Seth’s arm tightens, and with a little squeal, all the space I procured disappears, and I’m pressed against his warm chest again.
“Stay,” he murmurs into my hair.
My limbs relax with the command, compelled to comply.
But my brain remains Team-Get-The-Fuck-Out.
For whatever reason, Seth is a craving my body is desperate to indulge in, and well, I like my dignity, thanks.
“I need to study for a final.” I inch my way toward the edge of the bed again, freeing myself from his arm. “Go back to sleep.”
“I’ll help you study after breakfast.”
“Liar,” I say. If my memory serves me right, and let’s be honest, I’m not keen on trusting it; every time this man has claimed to “help” me study, I’ve ended up on my back, begging for him. It was enough of a blow to my ego to wake up here. I don’t need to live out one of our disgustingly common, high-strung sexcapades.
My toes press against the hardwood floor, and I wince at the freezing sensation that terrorizes the soles of my feet.
Crawling back into the warm comfort of that bed grows more alluring with every tortured step.
What kind of psychopath lives in a place where the floor hurts your feet?
I grab my t-shirt thrown across the workout bench with a groan, retro band t-shirts are so not my vibe, but I know instinctively that this is mine, and since I, unfortunately, slept without clothes last night, I’ll have to accept it. I toss it over my head. The quicker I am dressed, the quicker I can get answers.
A new start sounded great in my desperation, but all of this? With him? Wearing… vintage band t-shirts and… flannel? I won't ever bethisdesperate.
My pants and socks are thrown near a desk that has seen a lot of extra-curricular activity this semester. A shiver terrorizes my spine, whether, at the vivid recollections of what’s been done to me on that wooden slab, or the freezing temperatures of this room, I don’t know.
I could sneak back into bed.
Wait, what? No.
Get the hell out of this room.
Slinging my pants over my shoulder for dressing on the go, I tiptoe towards the door.
It’ll be safer to put them on in the hallway, away from him.
“Maddie?” a groggy voice mumbles.
My hand remains extended towards the knob, eager to vacate this room. “Yes, Seth?” I sigh.
“Why the hell are you leaving my room without pants on?”
