But I did anyway.
He just up and left this morning. I needed to make sure he was okay.
Looking down at where he is on the map, I grow more and more confused as I look around.
Still, I follow until I get to a building. “What the hell?” I mutter to myself.
The sounds of someone moving around catch my attention. Stepping up to the fence, I peek between the cracks. My brows rise when I see Easton.
Is he digging through a donation bin?
I stand there with curiosity and watch as he pulls things out of a bag. Every so often, he’d look at something, then add it to a pile, and some he’d shove back in the bag.
For a little while, I think he might have donated something he didn’t mean to and that he was looking for it.
But then I remember the fact that he doesn’t have much. And why would he be looking through multiple bags?
Once he’s done looking through the bags, he grabs the pile of clothes and starts heading toward me.
Fuck!
I look around in a panic for some place to hide, but there’s nothing.
I jolt in surprise when I’m hit in the head with a pile of clothes just as Easton climbs over the fence and lands in a crouch.
“Bennett?” His eyes widen in horror as he realizes I’m there. Standing up, his eyes flick between mine. “What are you doing here?”
“I tried to call you. But when you didn’t pick up, I got worried. Please don’t hate me, but I found your location on Snapchat and followed you here.” I wince, then remember I’m covered in clothes. “Ah, I think these are yours?” I grab the few shirts from my shoulder and the one off my head and hand it to him.
His face is full of embarrassment and anger, and he snatches the clothes from my hand. “You shouldn’t have done that. And you shouldn’t be here.”
“I know. But why are you here?”
He bends down and grabs the clothes, gathering them in his arms, and starts to walk away.
“Easton, wait up.”
“Go away.” It sounds like he’s grinding his jaw together.
“Wait, are you mad at me? I didn’t follow you because I didn’t trust you. I was worried, okay? I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
He ignores me, quickening his pace.
“Easton, please.” I start to worry that I fucked up big time. “Talk to me, please.” I grab his arm, forcing him to spin around to face me.
My heart sinks when I see his eyes are red and glassy, like he’s trying not to cry.
“Baby.” I step forward, hating to see him like this. “What’s wrong?”
He moves his head away when I try to reach for him.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he rasps out.
“Like what?”
“Like this.” He lets out a disgusted laugh, holding up the clothes. “So broke and pathetic that I have to get clothes from donation bins.”
“Wait... what?”
