"Go away," I mutter.
The door opens anyway. Crew pokes his head in. "Uh, dude? There's something outside your door you should see."
"I don't care."
"Trust me. You want to see this."
I drag myself up and follow him into the hallway.
There's a trash bag outside my door.
I stare at it for a moment, confused.
"Open it," Crew says quietly.
I pick up the bag and look inside.
It's another one of my hoodies. And one of my T-shirts that Sutton sleeps in.
It’s a message. We live together, so she can’t make a big exit scene, but I get it.
She’s really done this time.
Chapter Two
SUTTON
Ihaven't slept.
Every time I close my eyes, I see that photo. The pain I feel is physical. It actually hurts. My heart hurts.
I've been lying in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of the past few weeks.
Every time Bree showed up at the house.
Every "coincidental" encounter in the kitchen.
Every giggle in the hallway.
Every touch that lingered too long.
I thought I was being paranoid. Jealous. Insecure.
But I wasn't. I was right.
I haven’t left my room except to dart across the hall to use the bathroom. I crept downstairs to grab a snack, but I’ve been hiding since. It’s silly and immature, but I don’t want to see him.
And now I have to get up and go to class, where everyone will look at me and either laugh at me or pity me.
I hate that.
I hate that he’s put me in this position again.
The house is quiet. It always is at this hour. I have practice, which I normally hate being so early, but now I’m grateful for it.
I grab my bag and head out, not bothering to make myself coffee or grab breakfast. I don’t think anyone is in the house, but just in case, I’d rather not deal with the guy’s looks—pity or anger. I’m still not sure where Holden and Declan stand. I don’t think I heard Holden in the house yesterday, but I can’t say for certain.
Practice is horrible.
