“It’s…it’s okay.” I shook my head, my arms still wrapped around my middle. “I’ll just go home.”
I couldn’t go home. But I couldn’t stay here either. I’d just have to figure something else out.
I began walking to gather my bag that held nothing but my phone, keys, and a random book, and winced when I remembered my ankle hurt.
“Why are you here?” Eric threw the clothes that I was assuming were his mother’s onto his bed when
I didn’t take them. I cannot wear her clothes.
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, basically hiding my limp as I reached down to grab my bag. I went to fling it over my shoulder, but Eric snatched it out of my hand at the last second, causing me to tumble forward.
“Ow.” I grabbed at my stomach. I’d forgotten I scraped it too. I was such a mess. So different to how I was just months ago when everyone in the school thought I was put together with the pretty little navy bow that graced my ponytail on game days.
Nothing about me was pretty. Not then, and not now.
When I finally allowed myself to see Eric, he was staring at my hand clutching my stomach. I dropped it and pretended to act fine. “Give me my bag, Eric.”
He didn’t say a word. The room was heavy. His lingering gaze never moved from where I was clutching my stomach. “Lift your shirt.”
I was suddenly standing on hot embers; every single part of my body was bathed in heat. “Excuse me?”
“I said…” Eric started toward me, and my heart seized to beat. “Lift your shirt.”
“No.” Oh my God. Could this night get any worse?
Yes. It could. You could be over at your house, hyperventilating in the fetal position.
Eric was so close to me that I felt his warm breath wash over my features when he sighed exasperatedly. “Madeline. Fucking show me what you’re hiding underneath your shirt. I’d rip it off myself, but I think you’ve been violated enough, don’t you?”
I raised my chin as I choked back the overpowering need to cry. I wanted to be angry at his words, but he was right. And it meant something to me that he wasn’t going to overstep boundaries. It meant something that he was actually respecting me for once. He may have despised me, but he was further proving that he wasn’t the monster he pretended to be.
My fingers trembled as I fiddled with the hem of my shirt. Slowly, I pulled the cotton fabric up and glanced down to the thin, reddening scrape on my belly. I saw it earlier when I’d first come into Eric’s room, but I’d pushed the concern away, too hyped up on the adrenaline from climbing out my window and being inside his house.
Eric took a step closer, invading every bit of my air. That woodsy smell hit me head-on, and I tried to even my breathing. He appeared so concerned yet contradictorily angry at the same time. His black hair flopped forward with a bounce, covering up the two worry lines in between his naturally sculpted brows. His already cut jaw was even firmer than before. He was flawless up close and personal. The skin on his face was clear of any imperfections at all. Eric was cold with his dark features, but he was also breathtaking. Like an icicle—so incredibly beautiful, but he could cut you too.
When his hand reached out, he peeked at me for a quick second, gauging my reaction. When I didn’t so much as blink, his warm fingers landed softly on my skin around the scratch. I almost swayed. They were warm and tender as they all but caressed me. He trailed his pointer finger along the redness, and goosebumps scattered over my arms. A familiar pull tugged on my insides, and I was too far gone in his touch to even care.
His voice was low when he flicked his dark eyes to me. His other hand wrapped around my lower back when he peered down, stealing every single breath out of my lungs. “Why are you here, and why are you hurt? Did someone do this?”
Not technically.
My attention shifted from Eric to the window when the flash of lights moved through the room. I stepped away, breaking the intense moment between us, and ran over to the glass.
He was leaving.
The fucker was leaving.
My eyes clenched shut, my breathing coming back and resuming to normal.
Thank God.
I spun around quickly and rushed to my bag that Eric threw onto his bed, ignoring the slight twinge in my ankle. I was eager to get out of his bedroom with all of his things surrounding me that made me feel things I had absolutely no right to feel. “I…I have to go.” As soon as I stepped toward his bedroom door, I paused.
Wait.
I couldn’t face Eric’s mom. It was the very last thing I wanted to do.
But my options were limited. I could either climb out the window and injure my already sore ankle, or I could come face to face with my guilty conscience looking Eric’s sweet angel-like mother in the eye. She probably hated me just as much as she hated my mom.