I end up arriving at Midnight Grounds, haggard and exhausted, just wanting to go home, to crawl into my bed and disappear for a while.
I force myself to go in and order something. As I’m getting settled, my phone buzzes, and I pull it out, seeing Aunt Del’s name on the screen. This is becoming a strange habit, one I’m not sure I want her to break.
“Hey,” I say, my voice infused with affection. I can’t help it. She’s…nice to me.
“Hi, Whit. Just calling to say I was thinking of you. I was going to leave a message. I don’t always expect you to answer.”
“I don’t mind answering when I have time.”
She laughs softly. “Well, I just wanted to check in. How was your day?”
I tell her bits and pieces, leaving out Caleb and my venture to the gay club. When we hang up, I feel that odd feeling again.
And to be honest, I kind of like it.
I slump further into a chair, a book open but unread in my lap, hot tea cooling in my hand.
My mind drifts from the present to the past, to futures I can’t quite picture, until I finally slip into sleep.
No one wakes me. They just leave me be.
When I finally come to, I realize it’s dawn. Fuck. I can’t believe I spent the night in a coffee shop.
I’m losing my mind.
I pack up, keeping my head down as I exit, stuffing a hundred-dollar bill in the tip jar.
This isn’t a hostel, but I sure treated it as such.
If they only knew what I was fleeing from.
The man haunting my dreams.
My every waking moment.
I nearly barrel into my nightmare as he rushes from the apartment. He looks good in a beanie and sweatshirt, casual in that way that shouldn’t matter but somehow does. Does that even make sense? I don’t know anymore. My heart rushes with excitement the moment I see him.
His blue gaze catches mine, and his cheeks pinken.
“Heading out,” he says, turning his gaze away from me.
“Okay,” I manage to say, my voice slightly raspy. He has this effect on me.
There’s nothing I can do to change how I react to him. It seems inherent at this point.
The door closes behind me, and I slump against it. I’m exhausted. I should have just come home last night. I should have slept in my own bed, or at least attempted to. Right now, my neck hurts, and I know I need a long shower.
That’s made even clearer when I see my rumpled state in the mirror. I look terrible. No wonder Caleb didn’t want to look at me. I don’t even want to look at myself.
So I shower, standing under the stream a little too long, letting my mind whirl in the worst ways, scrubbing soap over my pale skin a little too long.
And when I step from the steaming bathroom, I realize Caleb still isn’t here.
Picking up my phone, I message him. We’re leaving later today togo to his aunt and uncle’s. But of course, he doesn’t seem to have any plans for when we’ll head out. He seems like the kind of guy who wings most things.
Me:
When will we leave today?
