He hoots tenderly, and his power vibrates across my skin. He doesn’t strip these uncontrollable emotions away for me like I’d like, though.
“I’m here if you need anything.”
I give him what I can muster up of a smile, then turn toward my room.
My feet freeze in two steps.
I don’t want to go in there. The destruction of my bathroom comes to the forefront of my mind, and I see a repeat of that happening if I isolate myself in there.
I felt devastated that day. Therefore, my Chaos bled out as destruction.
Fuck.
The couch is too comfortable.
The dining chairs are too stationary.
My gaze roams over the guys’ doors, settling on Riven’s. The longing, anger, and desperate desire for one of his highly inappropriate jokes assault my chest.
I’ve kept my soul on a tight leash, not daring to let it stretch out to him since we left the Abandon. The last thing I want to do is tug his and there’s nothing he can do right now but sense it.
If he can sense it this far away.
My steps falter as I mindlessly make my way across the living room until I’m standing at his door.
The longer I stare, the heavier my lungs become. My nose burns from the tears building in my eyes, and that sets my heart ablaze.
“You asshole!”
My fists bash against his door as I let myself shatter. The echo of my rage bounces back to me from the emptiness of his room, and that eats me alive.
My body doesn’t slam into solid wood as I had planned. I fall right through, and my shrill is nothing more than a whisper in his space.
I freeze and devour every detail.
Their bedrooms are their spaces, and the only one I’ve spent time in is Amick’s. I’ve been in and out with quick glances at Kyzen’s and I barely approach Creed’s door.
This is the first time I’ve caught a glimpse of Riven’s space.
I should turn around and walk back out, but I can’t. My feet carry me forward two unsteady steps.
He’s everywhere.
Even without him standing here, I sense him. The room hums with his energy, wild and magnetic, like he might step out from one of the shadowed corners at any moment.
I can’t decide whether I’ve walked into brilliance or madness. Maybe both. The room is…chaos and harmony all at once, likeit doesn’t know what it wants to be. The two collide as if they’re dancing together around the space.
Despite his eccentric personality, he’s never come off to me as messy. Plus, the self-cleaning system in these houses wouldn’t allow the floors to be piled high with nonsense. I didn’t envision him being organized either, though.
Which his room isn’t, but it is. Everything has a place.
It’s just a little random.
His walls are a rich dark blue, but hanging behind his bed is a massive painting that resembles a marble slab.
Paint streaks across the canvas like laughter—loud and playful—in a mix of burgundy and blue that matches his eyes. Thin glittery gold lines break the colors up.
His bed is half-made. One side is pressed to perfection. The other, his wrinkled crème sheet is slung and twisted around his dark burgundy comforter.
