“I was having the best dream,” Blair smiles, “this girl was on her knees, crawling toward—“
I put a hand in the air, “don’t finish that sentence.” He gives me a wicked grin in return, while Miller attempts to hold in a laugh.
Lucas stands on the other side of the room, arms crossed against his chest, looking at me like all he wants is to wrap me up tight. Shivers run down my spine, all the way to my toes as I remember the way he interrupted Davis and I the other night. The look on his face was priceless, but the jealousy and his overwhelming possessiveness almost made me cave. I want this boy more than I want oxygen, I’m so close to giving in, one more grand gesture and I’m all his. I lick my lips before tearing my gaze away from his, and look around the room for Davis.
He’s not here.
“Davis wouldn’t have slept through that noise, would he?” I ask. Everyone shakes their heads no… and a pit starts to grow in my stomach.
I brush off the feeling, knowing he probably just left for some late night hook-up.
In the middle of a storm, the voice inside my head reminds me.
* * *
I glance at the clock, the ache in my stomach growing with each minute that passes. It’s almost four in the morning, he hasn’t answered a single one of my texts.
Even Davis —the man whore himself— doesn’t have sex for two straight hours. Hehasto have checked his phone by now.
I crawl out of bed and walk down the hall to where Davis’s door is slightly open. Maybe I shouldn’t invade his privacy, but I’m worried about him, and lord knows he would break downmydoor if he was in my position right now.
The door creaks as I push it open, hoping that maybe he came home and I just didn’t hear him. But there’s no one in here. His room is dark, the sheets on his bed are all messed up, and his phone sits on his pillow.
Shit.
I’ve never really been in here before, there’s a lot going on. Photos cover his wall, pictures of him and his friends, hockey team posters, Livler University banners… it all feels a little too much.
Something eery creeps up my spine as I wonder why his room would be filled with so many things. Sure it’s nothing crazy, nothing people would really think about… but I know him. Davis is simple, minimalistic, not the type of guy to have a decked out room with shit everywhere.
Maybe it’s stupid, but it just feelswrong.
His phone lights up, glowing in the dark while I itch to look. I shouldn’t.
But I do.
I grab it and read the messages that I’ve sent him over the past couple hours;
Claire-bear
Heard you leave, hope you’re being safe <3
Hey, are you okay?
Davis I’m staring to worry. Please text me.
Seriously where are you???
Davis
But it’s the other messages that makes me flinch;
Fucking asshole
You’re just as deranged as when you were a kid. Tell your mother that I want nothing to do with any of this, it’s not worth my time or energy.
You aren’t worth my time or energy.
Who the hell is this? And why are they so cruel? Davis is one of the best people I know, I can’t imagine anyone hating him enough to say something like that.
