Page 17 of Brutal Titan

Elliot

The hot shower does nothing to lessen the throbbing in my head. Stepping out of the en suite, I dig through the dresser for a clean set of clothes, thankful when I retrieve freshly laundered jeans. Tugging a T-shirt over my head, I wonder if I have more clothes stashed in this room than my own bedroom because it surely seems like it.

Opening the bedroom door, I hesitantly peek out into the hallway. Finding it vacant, I notice the door just down the hall closed, like it always is to me.

Shuffling down the stairs, I find Asher sitting on the sofa, the room is cleaned spotless, no evidence of the party remains.

He looks up, eyeing me. “Didn’t think you were ever going to get up.”

“I have a killer headache.”

“Same.” He lets his head fall to rest on the back of the couch, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. I flop down next to him, assuming the same position. The room remains silent until I hear her voice. Great. Victoria glances our way briefly as she walks through the room, her phone up to her ear.

“Can you give me a ride to my place? I need to grab an extra key fob.” And I need to get out of here.

Asher lifts his head, tilting it to the side as he looks over his shoulder before looking back to me. “Victoria! Take Elliot home since you’re the one who tossed his key.”

She speaks into the phone for a moment longer before disconnecting. Walking over to stand at the side of the couch about five feet away, she says, “No. I’m busy. You can take him.” Her eyes avoid me, concentrating on typing a message on her phone.

“I take it she’s still pissed at you.”

“Yep,” I reply as her unwavering eyes look up to meet mine. “I should’ve apologized last night to Lil’ V, but I was wasted.”

Her body tenses as she folds her arms across her chest. “Do you even remember anything you said?”

“I vaguely recall saying something about you not having the balls to drive my car into the pond but not much after that. I passed out pretty quick. I’m sorry for underestimating you.”

“Unbelievable. Of course you don’t remember, not that it would make a difference.” Her fingers tuck a lose strand of hair behind her ear, and I get the urge to smooth mine over the same place. I’m pulled together enough to remain seated. I know there would be no BS-ing my way out of that move.

“Victoria—” Asher begins, but she heads for the front door.

Glancing back to her brother, she completely ignores my presence as she calls over her shoulder, “I have somewhere to be. He’s your friend, you take him.”

Asher looks to me before motioning to the door. “Let’s go.”

Silently, I follow behind him, unable to crack a joke. Every second that ticks by adds to the heaviness growing in my chest because I’m not only lying to myself, but I’m lying to my best friend. Thankfully, the ride is silent before he stops in front of my house.

Pushing the door open, I look back to him. “Give me one sec and I’ll be right back.”

Running up to the front door, I push it open and jog through the house, making my way into my bedroom. I grab a spare key fob before heading back downstairs.

“Finally, he returns to welcome his old man home.” My father stands at the bottom of the staircase.

“Sure,” I reply, sarcastically as he dramatically holds his arms out. Neither of us give a shit whether the other is in this dreadful house or not. “I’ll be back later.”

“Already leaving? Didn’t you just get here?”

“Yes, but I have some things to take care of.” Not that it makes a difference what those things are, I just don’t want to invite him to ask questions or pretend to hold a meaningful conversation for the first time in who knows how long.

“Good deal. I’ll probably head out before you return. I have to be in Atlanta before Monday morning, so I’ll be taking a flight out tonight.”

“Okay. Because you need to fly out on Saturday to make it to Atlanta by Monday morning.” I walk to the door, shaking my head in disbelief that he still attempts to cover his absence with pathetic explanations. The last thing I want is for him to be there when I return, but it still claws at my insides that he would rather be anywhere else.

“Susan said she’ll help you get everything set for the bonfire next weekend but if anything isn’t up to par, just let me know.”

Halting in place, I take the statement as a dig, as if I’m unable to handle something simple. Besides, Susan keeps everything more than up to par as Richard Bass needlessly jets around the country to avoid being at home. He’s the last one I’d call for help. “A pile of wood and some booze, I think I can handle it.”

“Just like you handled the first week of school, managing to get in a fight already? Speaking of, shouldn’t you be at the school now for detention?”