Page 138 of The Sidekick

When the sound doesn’t come again, I stand on shaky legs and brush my teeth violently. I hate getting sick. I gargle a bunch of times in the hopes that I’ll feel less disgusting and then give up to take a shower. I try to do a quick scrub down because I don’t like looking at the changes in my body for very long, but I end up just sitting in the tub, watching all the soap suds flow down the drain.

When my fingers start to look like raisins, I turn the water off without getting up. I don’t hear any more knocking, and it’s as depressing as it is relieving. I hear the bathroom door click shut and sniffle. When did I start crying again?

“Would you hand me a towel, please? Since you’re being a selfish perv and invading my privacy. Bestie tax.” I stick a hand out of the curtain and make grabbing motions. When he puts one in my hand without a word, I mutter a wobbly thanks and wrap it around my shoulders.

I don’t hear the door open again and wait a few minutes. When there still isn’t any sound, I sigh roughly, “Shade, please get out of here. You obviously have stage fright, so no pee is coming. Give it up so I can get out of the tub. Don’t make me come out there naked. We’ll both throw up.”

“It’s me.”

My whole body clenches up at the sound of Asher’s voice. I huddle under the towel, staring at the curtain in horror. Did Shade let him in? That traitor! I thought he was hiding in his bedroom.

“Did you get sick?” His voice is choked as he asks. He sounds like he’s been gargling broken glass.

I shudder at the cold seeping around me and bring my knees up for warmth. I try to keep my breathing quiet, hoping that he’ll think I was an illusion and he’ll just go away soon.

Isn’t this illegal? I could call the police, right? Crap, my phone is still in my bedroom. Holy cow, Shade let a serial killer in the house. Or a serial booty caller. Either way, Shade is back in the bad book. Would he even hear me if I screamed?

The curtain twitches behind me, and I duck my head, burying my face in my knees and pretending I’m not here. The thud of a foot landing behind me makes me startle, and then he’s sitting down, drawing my rigid body between his legs to wrap his arms around me and bury his face in my shoulder. I hope the water he sat in is freezing.

“Go away,” I whisper desperately, trying to will my words into action.

“I don’t want lies between us. Ever.”

I try to pull my arms up to cover my ears as I start crying again.

“Max has been in my class for months, and he just started talking to me. I listened because he needed to vent.”

“He told you about me,” the harsh sobs start. I hate this. My throat is already raw. This is going to make it worse, but I can’t stop.

“He asked me to be in a relationship with him and his asshole boyfriend so I could be a counselor to the three of you. Who the fuck does that?”

Max does, of course. I suddenly feel like laughing, but if I let it out, it won’t be a happy sunshine sound. It will be a ‘Well, Tera had a good run, but we’ve got to lock her away now’ sound.

“He never talked bad about you at all. His anger was and is all on the emotionally stunted asshole. He wants things to work with you bad enough to ask a stranger for help. That took fucking guts. I told him he was crazy.”

My sobbing has drained me of any energy I had left, and I can’t resist as I’m forced to listen.

“I met up with them both tonight to let them know I’m in.” His voice gets rough as he turns his head towards mine, pressing kisses over my hair. “I want you. I’ve been obsessed with you since I first saw you. It’s fucking unhealthy,” he chokes out a laugh. “When you stopped showing up at class, I almost lost my mind.”

I sit, numb as his arms tighten around me. Suddenly, the grounding effect he has on me isn’t comforting. He’s keeping me locked down in some twisted version of reality without mercy.

“They didn’t know I met you. They have no say in how we do things together.”

I can’t think of a single thing to say. It doesn’t help that my brain is basically mush right now.

“I can’t,” my voice is so hoarse I cough a little with a wince. I don’t want to say anything else. There’s just too much hurt in my body right now to try and make sense of anything. My throat makes a clicking sound as I swallow.

“I’ve got you, angel.” He presses a hard kiss above my ear and scoots back to stand. I hear a lot of shuffling, and the door opens and closes. When he comes back, he has the blanket from my bed. I haven’t moved. He wraps it around me and picks me up, shifting me around, and then carries me to my bedroom.

When he lays me on the bed, I roll away from him to curl into a ball. I don’t care if I’m still wet. I’m not getting up again. I can hear him wandering around the room, and the lights click off. The sound of a cup getting set on the nightstand barely registers as my exhausted body gives up the fight to stay awake.

Babygirl,

I hate it when Max is right. He’s been gloating all night. He’s asleep now, and I’m writing in the kitchen like a fucking idiot. It’s not like he’d wake up.

I don’t care what it takes. I want you with us. I just finished cleaning out the spare bedroom for you and the dick. Just in case. Fuck I’m getting ahead of myself, and I don’t want to stop. I’m grabbing this little bit of hope, and I’m fucking stealing it.

Chapter Forty-Eight

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