For a while, he only got worse, growling and looking like he was being cut open, but then, slowly, little by little, he relaxed and fell back into a deep sleep.
I’ve been awake ever since.
I’ve spent the entire time stroking his soft, golden hair with one hand and going through his phone with the other.
What?
This is the only way I might be able to learn more about him. Yes, I initially thought I’d wait for him to open up, but if last night—or early this morning—is any indication, that won’t work.
Preston can open up but just destructively. He told me about his mental issues fully expecting me to be disgusted and drop him. So if I try to push him down that path again, he’ll just use the chance to make himself seem like irritating high maintenance.
He’ll belittle his brain, paint himself as an annoyance, and do everything in his power to make me hate him.
Abandon him.
Leave him to flounder in the intricate mess of his own mind.
Not that it would work—there’s nothing Preston could do or say that will make me hate him.
It’s always been that way, even when he was an antagonizing prick during the games. Sure, I put him in his place, but it was rivalry, not hate.
And maybe, even then, a part of me just wanted to benoticedby the fairy prince of my childhood.
Utterly ridiculous, I know.
Now, I don’t want him to go into the self-criticizing, self-deprecating, self-hating mode masked with dark humor. I saw a glimpse of it, and I’m not a fan.
He was clearly in pain, clearly holding on to the last bits of his sanity with blood-soaked fingers, clearly…lost.
And I won’t put him in that position again.
But I do need to figure out the root cause, and his phone is the best place to start.
I’ve seen him enter his password a few times after grumbling about how it doesn’t recognize his “gorgeous face.”
Naturally, though, the first thing I look for is my text exchanges with him.
And I kid you not, he has me saved asRegrettably Hot.
It’s shocking how adorable he can be without even trying.
Hey, at least he finds me hot.I’ll ignore the regret.
Then I go to his notes, select them all and email them to myself so I can go through them in depth on my own time. After I delete the trace of the email I sent myself, I go to his texts again.
There are a few from girls that I narrow my eyes on. Someof them, he’s blocked, and others, he just leaves on Read or rejects.
I start to notice a pattern. The rejection, blocking, and ignoring the girls, started since…the game after which I planted myself in his life.
I go through the history of his conversations with them because I’m in the mood to torture myself, apparently.
It’s irrational how much fire grips my chest at the way he talks to them. He has this flirty, funny combo that he’s perfected. One he’s never used with me, obviously, since he’s been fighting this tooth and nail.
I shouldn’t be jealous of some girls who had him before, especially considering my own track record, but tell that to my burning chest.
With a groan, I scroll back up to where he yaps all the time—in the group chat with Kane and Jude. He’s definitely the one who named it, considering the title isPreston’s Fan Club.
Apparently, he does this naming thing most of the time, because the history shows:The Preston Appreciation Committee,Vipers, but Make It Hot, andPrestonverse.
