Page 82 of Just Forever

I don’t want to be like this.

I pull my phone out again and my thumb hovers over the display for a little while. To be an asshole or not to be an asshole. That is the question.

I mean, I don’t want to be an asshole either, but right now it’s a choice between this or going in there and once again letting Ryk see me at my worst and having him pick up the pieces again.

At what point will he just throw his hands up and say enough?

I clench my jaw.

Asshole it is. It’s not exactly a foreign territory for me anyway.

I type out a quick text to Ryk.I’m sorry, babe, but I got the worst headache out of nowhere. I’m heading home, but don’t cut your evening short for this. Hang out with Kian. I’ll see you at home.

And then I take off.

Like an asshole.

RYKER

When I wakeup the next morning, I’m alone. I roll onto my back and rub the sleep from my eyes. Waking up alone sucks. Waking up alone when I don’t have to wake up alone sucks even more.

I slide my palm over the other side of the bed. The sheets are cold. I have no idea when Lake got up. He was asleep when I got home. Now he’s gone.

I try to listen for any sounds, but the apartment is quiet, so I get up. I’m just out of the shower when I hear the front door. I pull on a pair of shorts and go to the living area where I find Lake putting groceries away.

“Morning,” I say.

He stills for a second, and when he turns around he has a very un-Lake-like wide smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says. “You’re up.”

I step closer and eye the paper grocery bags with a frown. “You went to the grocery store? Voluntarily?”

He sticks his tongue out at me. “I’m making you breakfast.” He closes the fridge door, turns around, and leans against it. “I’m sorry about last night. I think it might’ve been something todo with the wind and the cold, but by the time I was done talking to Mom my head was killing me.”

“You should’ve come and got me,” I say.

“I didn’t want to ruin your evening.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

He shrugs. Shrugs and doesn’t say anything else.

I go and hug him, and he wraps his arms around me at once.

“Next time come and get me. I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters into the side of my neck.

I finally relax. “What are you making me?”

“Breakfast burritos.”

“You know how to make breakfast burritos?” I raise my brows at him.

“Of course I do. I just usually don’t want to.”

He grins at me, and I feel kind of dumb for feeling relieved.

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