He keeps going.
I think about chasing after him, but my legs still feel shaky, and my stomach is twisting painfully with nausea. He doesn’t even glance back at me.
Is he that disgusted by me? Colten seemed pretty enthusiastic about making out with me five seconds ago.
Was it something I said?
…Did I hurt him by suggesting that? But…how?
Maybe he was drunk, and the idea of being with me actually does disgust him.
The sunset behind him is bright purple and pink, even more colorful than earlier.
It should look amazing, instead it just looks…
Empty.
Chapter 8
I’m standing in front of our apartment when I realize I don’t remember the walk back.
You’d think I’d notice sidewalks, or opening the security doors, or, really, anything from the forty-five minutes it takes to walk from the school to our cheap apartment. Especially since I was shirtless the entire time.
I don’t.
I open the front door and step into silence.
“Colten?” I ask, kicking the door shut behind me and flicking on the lights. His car was at the school, so he should’ve gotten back ages ago.
Nothing.
Which—fine. He could be out. He’s allowed to have a life. I’m not some clingy—whatever. We might be best friends, but I know he has other friends.
I drop my bag, toe off my shoes, and wait, but still nothing.
The silence stretches weirdly, like it’s got teeth. I feel like it’s chewing on me.
“Fine,” I mutter, glaring at Colten’s door. I’m not going to be as nice as before. He promised he wouldn’t ignore me again, so I won’t let him.
I head for the shower because at least that’s something I can control. Water on, brain off. The grime from the evaluationfinally comes off, but I can’t get rid of the tension in my shoulders or the nausea still making my gut clench.
By the time I’m done, I’ve somehow managed to get soap in both eyes and forget to shampoo. Efficient.
I pull on clean clothes, towel-dry my hair into its usual frizzy disaster, and step back into the hallway.
It’s still quiet.
“Okay, this is stupid,” I say, louder than before, like Colten might finally answer back.
I stop in front of his door and try the handle. It’s locked, of course.
I knock, nothing. I knock again, harder. Still…nothing.
I stare at the doorknob for a second before glancing down the hallway toward my own room.
Biting my lip, I look back at his door.
“Colten? I’m going to picklock your door,” I say loudly. He still doesn’t respond.
