At least for a little while.
Then I head to class.
CHAPTER TEN
konnor
When I wake up, head throbbing and mouth parched, the right side of my bed is empty. I can tell. I lie there for a moment with my eyes closed, brain growling, tongue like sandpaper as I move it around my gums, waiting for the sound of her. Nothing. Just the room.
I roll over and look at the dent in the pillow beside mine. I’d been dreaming about her hair spread across it—her body facing mine, her fingers threaded through my hair.
Blesk.
But no.
Flipping onto my back, I stretch my arms above my head, feeling a dull, satisfying pop in my shoulders. The sun glows through the window as if it’s been up for hours, and somewhere below, car horns are already going. I should have water. I should have had water last night. Didn’t I? Didn’t she give me water? Yeah, she did.
I squint at the alarm clock on my bedside table, the empty bottle of bourbon behind it catching the light. 10:00 a.m. Goddamn it, I hate that clock.
With a grunt, I roll off the mattress and hit the floor harder than I mean to. I stay there a second, cheek against the carpet, feeling sorry for myself. My brain throbs in my skull, reminding me that the cure and the cause are in the same fucking bottle.
I get into push-up position anyway.
Dip and push.
Dip and push.
I focus on my elbows, tucking them in. On holding my spine strong. I channel my mind to the moment, to my posture. It almost works. Almost.
Her hair comes back.
I push faster.
Her sad face when she left.
Faster.
The fact that I just stood there and let her leave my apartment—the look she had, and how that look was because ofme. My fault. I keep pushing until the thoughts dissolve into the burn.
Fuck.
Fuelled by disappointment, I hit four sets of thirty reps before slumping onto my back. I stare at the ceiling, my mouth open, panting, my mind chewing on thoughts of her and me and yesterday. There was something there—between us. Not just her hair, her eyes, her hands. Something…
Alcohol does most of my heavy lifting; I know that. There is no fucking excuse for yesterday, but… there almost is. Yesterday was the anniversary of her death.
I push to my feet and shuffle over to the kitchen bench. I flip my laptop open and log into the university’s student portal. Another empty bottle of bourbon catches my eye—fair enough, it was half empty from the night before. I look away. I find my class list and scroll through it slowly.
There!
Her name appears. My fingers stop on the trackpad.Blesk Bellamy.I stare at it for too long—too long for a man who has his shit together. At least I know I get one hour a week with her.
One hour to make it right.
I leave my apartment with that thought. I’ll make it right. Jogging down the stairwell, I hit the ground floor and stride out, crossing the lobby. The sun illuminates the marble tiles, the light like a drill to my hungover-brain.
Adolf hauls himself upright from his chair as if he’s been sleeping there. “Looking sharp today, Mr Slater,” he says, nodding once with approval.
I stop at his desk. “Pemberton came up yesterday while Blesk was here.”
