Page 140 of Naughty & Nice

Looking back over my shoulder, I realize that I should have run to the bathroom.

I could have let it all out in there without worrying about Hendrix seeing me.

But it’s too late now. I refuse to give Wilder the satisfaction of knowing he’s hurt me. Instead, I want him to think that I’ve pushed everything he just said to me aside and crawled back into bed with his brother.

Fuck Wilder and his bullshit opinions. Who cares if he thinks I’m like one of them? I’m not.

I’m nothing like them.

The only person I care about is snoring softly in the bed before me.

His are the only opinions that matter.

Lifting my hands to wipe the couple of tears that have spilled, I stalk toward the bed.

Peeling Hendrix’s t-shirt off, I abandon it on the floor once again and crawl in..

My movement rouses him and he instantly snuggles closer, wrapping an arm around my waist and pinning me as tightly to him as he possibly can.

It’s amazing. He makes me feel so safe, so secure, so loved.

So it makes no sense that I immediately burst into silent tears, my body shaking with the restraint it takes not to sob loudly and wake him.

His words and disregard shouldn’t hurt so much. Not when I’m wrapped in Hendrix’s arms.

But they do.

Ibarely sleep, and by the time the sun begins to light up the room, my eyes are sore and puffy from crying.

I don’t want to get up and face Wilder. But at the same time, I can’t lie here and wait for Hendrix to see the state of me.

I don’t want to give Hendrix any reason to think he’s not enough for me, because he is.

He’s everything.

This vacation has just… it’s been unexpected, and I need some time to process everything.

I feel like I’ve got whiplash.

In a heartbeat, we did this epic thing. And just as fast as it started, it ended, and not in a good way, it seems.

I don’t want to return home fighting with Wilder. I want us all to go back to our college lives happy and fulfilled.

That might be wishful thinking.

Before Hendrix stirs, I slip from the bed, pull his t-shirt back on, and lock myself in the bathroom.

My race across the hallway is too short to know if Wilder is out there. If he’s sleeping or if he’s working out. I think the latter is probably more realistic.

Something tells me that he got about as little sleep as I did.

I avoid the mirror. I’m not ready to deal with the reality of how last night has made me look, and instead, I turn the shower on. It’s hotter than I’d usually go for, but I ignore the bite of pain as I step inside.

Tipping my face up to the stream of water, I try to purge myself of the emotion he dragged to the surface with his cruel words. I need to be able to walk out of here with my head held high and move on.

All I’ve got to do is endure a thirteen-hour road trip home with him, and then we can go about our lives as if nothing happened—if that's even possible.

Even if he has tainted everything with his attitude last night, I’ll still treasure our time together here.

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