Page 18 of Obey

I go back and set the cup down on the coffee table. “There. Your water.”

Maddox blinks at me, then runs a hand through his already tousled hair. He still looks sexy as hell, and I can think of a few things I’d like to do with him now that I have him in my apartment.

But I’m not going to give in, and it’s not like this is ever going to happen again. I just didn’t want him to get hurt, or taken advantage of, or…

Fuck.

I don’t care.

He picks up the cup with slightly shaky hands, downing half of it in one go. “Thanks,” he says. “I know you fucking hate me, so… Really. Thanks.”

“You’d hate you too,” I point out, feeling awkward and defensive at the same time. “What you did… that’s not fucking forgivable and you know it.”

Maddox closes his eyes, his knuckles going white as he grips the cup more tightly. “I was a kid, Nayeem,” he says quietly. “I got scared. I didn’t… I didn’t realize. I thought you could get away. I thought the cops would go easy on you. I thought… I don’t know.”

“You thought the fucking cops would go easy on an immigrant kid?” I say, sneering. The hurt roils up inside me all over again. “New Bristol’s cops have been violent racists since long before my parents ever stepped foot into the country.”

Maddox looks away, setting the cup back down with more care than I had. “I didn’t think about that. I wasn’t thinking at all. I was just so scared. We were seventeen, Knives. I was a stupid kid.”

“I guess that means all your talk about forever and us against the world was just stupid kid talk too,” I growl. I turn away from him and grab the blanket from the armchair. I toss it at him, not even wanting to look at his face. “Whatever. Just sleep it off. You’d better be gone by morning.”

I storm into my bedroom and shut the door. If I didn’t have to worry about my neighbors, I would have gladly slammed it.

Guess I’m still an immature fucking kid myself.

FIVE

MADDOX

Waking up on a couch reminds me of my early days as an official member of the mafia, when I was going out every other night and drinking with my new buddies. It was the best way for me to avoid thinking about all the shit going on in my life. My new friends had been eager to welcome me as a brother, down to letting me crash on their couches when I was too far gone to go home to my shitty apartment, which had a grand total of a single mattress and an old CRT-TV.

The events of the night before slam into me, breaking into what should be good memories and reminding me of just how much everything had gone wrong. My scene, my ruined subspace… hell, even getting fucked right back into subspace and having to rely on Nayeem—Knives—to get home.

Except he hadn’t taken me home. He’d taken me to his place.

I don’t understand why.

Maybe I’d been a little too fucked up to just give him my address, but he could’ve dumped me at a hotel. Hell, he could’ve dumped me on the side of the road somewhere.

I sit up and look around, hoping he’s not awake yet, but those hopes are instantly dashed.

He’s sitting at the round dining table, glowering at the mug in front of him. I notice a coffee maker on the kitchen counter, but I don’t smell coffee brewing. I hadn’t heard the machine beep, either, so I’m not sure when he’d made it.

“Morning,” I say cautiously. Things hadn’t exactly ended well the night before, but they’re blurry. I’m hoping that means they’re blurry for him, too, and that he doesn’t remember just how many times he’d insulted me. Maybe he’ll even be in a better mood. Or feeling generous. Or…

Ha.

I can’t even imagine him treating me with respect.

“Morning,” Knives answers, in a tone that isn’t particularly friendly.

I stand up and stretch, eyeing the coffee maker again. I could use a cup, but I don’t want to ask for any. He’s already borderline hostile, and I don’t want to make it worse.

“I can cook you breakfast,” I offer cautiously. “To thank you for…” For what? Fucking up my life even more? Making me feel like shit? Destroying the only safe haven I’d had?

“No thanks,” Knives grumbles. He takes a sip of his coffee and makes a face like it tastes bad.

“Can I have some coffee before I go?” I hedge. I don’t know why I’m bothering to try talking to him.

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