Page 30 of Ruin Me
“Harry,” she says with that soft smile.
Her eyes hold mine, and I wonder if she sees what I’m trying not to show. Not just concern, but something deeper, a craving to be part of her world, to stand with her against whatever shadows might crawl out of the past.
“Have you spoken to your mum about any of this?” I ask a probing question, which makes her snort into her tea and start choking.
“Wow, dive straight in,” she says with a grim laugh. “And no. I need to figure out what to say to her. The fact that she lied and has clearly been in touch withhimis not an easy thing to get over at the moment.”
I nod slowly, getting it. Her vulnerability is a hook, and I’m snagged without any hope—or wish—to get free. “Family shit’s complicated,” I murmur, the understatement of the century.
Her eyes moisten, and she blinks rapidly. She’s tough as nails, but the cracks are showing. She takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, I guess.”
We sit in silence for a while, just sipping our tea. The room feels smaller somehow, charged with unspoken words hanging in the air like smoke.
Eventually, she stands up to put her cup in the sink, and I watch her deliberate movements.
“I should go to bed,” she says. “Early classes and all that.”
“Of course,” I say quickly. “Can I crash on your couch if that’s okay?”
Vogue eyeballs me for a second but then shrugs. “You don’t need to stay to protect me.”
“I don’t need to, but I want to. Just for a bit, I’ll be out of your way before you wake up.”
“You trying to make a statement or something?” she asks, crossing her arms as she stares at me.
I give her that smile, and it disarms her as planned. “You know it. Every fucker in Crestmont will know I spent the night, and you will be off limits.”
She giggles, pressing her lips together. “Well, okay, but don’t expect anything.”
“I won’t,” I murmur and watch her disappear into the bathroom, returning moments later dressed in her pjs.
She climbs into bed, and I drape myself across the couch. Reaching behind me to pull out the gun, whichI lay on my stomach within easy reach, staring at the ceiling. But sleep doesn’t come; instead, there’s this gnawing hunger twisting in my gut, driving me to join her, but I won’t. Not tonight.
Hearing her breathing deepen, I sit up and stare at her, curled up in her bed, comfy and warm.
Gripping the gun, silently, I rise, kicking my boots off as I pad across the small space. This isn’t part of the plan, but screw it. She’s vulnerable like this, peaceful, a side of Vogue I’ve never seen. My chest tightens, and for a second, I forget to breathe.
Setting the gun down on the table next to the bed, carefully, I lower myself onto the edge of her mattress, my weight shifting the bed ever so slightly. She doesn’t stir. Her lashes flutter against her cheeks, long and dark against her pale skin. Something about the way she looks right now, so different from the fierce girl who takes on the world by daylight, tugs at something uninhibited inside me.
Slowly, almost reverently, I pull out my phone. The screen lights up, casting an eerie glow in the darkness. With one click, I’ve captured her image, still and silent. I stare at the photo, her sleeping form captured in pixels and light. It feels like stealing a piece of her soul. But I can’t help it; I want—no, need—this moment to keep it locked away where only I can find it.
I lie beside her, fully clothed, on top of the covers. My mind races with thoughts of Quentin and her, the way they are together. It bites at me, that envy. But it’s not just jealousy that keeps me awake—it’s the senseof being close to her, breathing in her presence. I watch the rise and fall of her chest, feeling a connection that’s both exhilarating and terrifying. She doesn’t know how much she affects me, how she’s wedged herself into my soul.
My emotions are a tangled mess—longing for her, envy of what she has with Quentin, and something else, something deeper that’s been growing since the first day I saw her. It’s like a current between us, unseen but powerful, pulling me towards her with every breath she takes.
She has me now, whether she wants me or not. I’m hers, and when the time is right, I will take her and make her mine.
17
VOGUE
Eyelids fluttering,I blink my eyes open, the fuzzy edges of sleep still clinging to my mind. There’s light creeping in through the curtains, too early for anyone decent to be awake. But as my vision clears and I see Harrison curled up on the other side of my bed, still in his clothes from last night. For a second, I just stare, my mind racing to make sense of this unexpected sight.
Then I remember he said he was staying on the couch for a little bit. I guess the couch was too uncomfortable, so he moved to the bed and fell asleep.
He didn’t take advantage of the situation, which is sweet. That thought alone has warmth flooding through me, a smile easing onto my lips despite the tension that knots my stomach when I think about why he’s here. My eyes flick to the gun, complete with silencer, on the table next to his head, and I shiver.
Protection.
