Page 18 of Waiting for Redemption

“Suddenly, I can’t remember a single interesting thing about myself,” I admit.

“It doesn’t have to be interesting. It can be something simple.”

“What, like my favorite color?” I say sarcastically.

“Something I don’t already know.” My brows knit together as I think back on if I’ve ever told him this.

“You don’t know my favorite color.” He raises a brow at me and leans in even closer, causing me to stop breathing momentarily.

“Plum. Not lavender, not true purple. The deep, almost black looking purple.”

“How…” Is the only word I get out before he smirks, taking my hand in his as electricity shoots from my fingertips all the way to my core.

“Well… Your nails are almost always painted this color. Even when they chip and you get them redone, they’re always the same color. The same color as,” he flips my hand over, displaying the other purple tattoo on my wrist, “this tattoo. Which I am also curious about, but I don’t know if you want to tell me about it yet.” He looks into my eyes, waiting for an answer but I simply shake my head.

“That’s alright. A story for another time.” He smiles softly, winking at me as he leans back to put distance between us. “It’s also the same color as your favorite work shirt. The purple tie-dye shirt that onlyyouhave. I assume you had it specially made?”

Did I just fall in love?

“How’d I do?” He smirks, forcing me to clear my head of themanythoughts going through it right now that are causing my cheeks to burn.

“I would have acceptedpurple.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, unsure of what to do next. “So what, you just know all about me then?”

“Hardly. But I do think I’d like to.” He holds onto the same wrist with the tattoo he pointed out before and gives it a gentle squeeze. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” We sit in silence as we finish our drinks and then play a round of pool while I try to convince him why I need to see the pictures from when he was on the wrestling team. I’ve never heard Tank laugh so much or look so comfortable, and by the end of the night, I finally see the start of what I hope will be a really great friendship.

* * *

“You’re not fucking leaving this house until this is settled. I’m going to have a say in this,” he shouts, gripping me tighter as I will my tears away.

“Do you even hear yourself right now? After the other nasty things you’ve said to me about this you’re delusional if you think you have a say in this,” I fight back.

“Try and make this decision, the WRONG decision, without me, and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” When he throws me to the ground, I don’t bother standing up. I have no fight left in me, and my arm is throbbing from the pain.

Keys.

Front door opens.

Front door…

SLAM!

My body lunges forward at the sound and my heart is already racing. I look around and don’t see Hendrix in bed with me and immediately begin to panic. I throw the covers off and run straight to his room.

There he is.

Sound asleep on his bed with his arm hanging off by his dresser, and his storybook on the floor. I exhale with relief and place it back on his bookshelf. I stare down at him, watching his peaceful features as he sleeps before brushing back his dark locks of hair and kissing his cheek. I’m wide awake now, too shaken to possibly fall back asleep. I turn onSupernatural—which is ironically a comfort show for me—and try to get my mind off of the nightmare that woke me. As soon as I’m comfortable enough to fall asleep, my phone goes off.

DING.

Who is actually texting me in the middle of the night?

Tank

Guess what I’m eating right now?

Me

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