“Check under the bed and in the bathroom before you lock yourself in here.”
When I don’t move, his gaze narrows.
“Do it, Raven.”
I do as he says and then turn to him. “All clear.”
He nods and turns to walk away.
“Wait, really?” I question. “That was what you wanted?”
“What else would I want?”
“I don’t know, in?”
“In what?” His brow lifts and I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes.
“You wanna come in my room and chill with me, big man?”
“You asking me because you think that’s what I was trying to do ... or because you want me to?”
“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”
“Not good enough.” He shakes his head and walks a few feet back, so I pop a shoulder and shut the door.
When I start changing, I hear his room door open and then close and I smirk to myself.
I knew he didn’t want to go back to the party.My legs keep bouncing and I start drumming my fingers across my thighs. I close my eyes and lightly bob around to the music that flows from upstairs, but after a good four hours, it’s no use.
I can’t do it, especially not here with all these people around.
It’s as quiet as it’s been all night and the music as dropped to a lower level, slower more ‘I’m fucked up and swaying” music comes on versus the “let’s get wasted” party shit from before, so I stand up, pull my hoodie over my head and open my door.
I get a foot past the threshold, when Maddoc’s door is yanked open.
I jump, my hand flying to my chest. “Shit, don’t do that.”
“Where you going?” His tone is accusatory.
“Upstairs.”
“Why?”
Shit. Uh... “Water?”
“That a question?”
“No.” I cross my arms. “I’m going to get water.”
“I filled your mini fridge with sodas and waters.” He crosses his arms now.
He did?
“Well ... I want a snack.”
“There’s a bag of snacks on your dresser.”
“Really?” comes out before I can stop it and he grows suspicious.
Oh, fuck this.
I shake my head, standing tall. “How about because I want to?”
I go to walk away, but he grabs my elbow pulling me back.
“Do you hear that?” he growls.
“What, the music?”
“Yeah, the music and zero talking.”
“I don’t care, I’ll be quick.”
“You are not going up there.”
“I have to!”
“No, you don’t.”
“Why do you care?!”
“It’s an orgy up there. Literally.” His jaw clenches. “Every motherfucker up there is fucking with the person next to them, to the right, to the left, guy, girl, don’t matter. It’s a free for all, any and every person that’s near.” His brows jump mockingly. “You want in on that?”
“I ... fuck.” My lips squeeze sideways.
“What?”
When I start pacing while biting on my fingernail, he sighs.
“What, Raven?”
Fuck it.
I turn to him. “I forgot my knife.”
“Your knife.” His eyes narrow as he searches my face. “The one you cut me with?”
“Oh, please.” My foot bounce against the carpet. “I barely grazed you.”
“You forgot your knife. So, what.”
I groan internally. “I need one. I ... can’t sleep without it.”
He freezes a second before gripping my wrist and pulling me into his room. He quickly shuts the door.
“What—”
“You’re not going up there. You’ll sleep in here.”
“Oh, hell no!”
He crowds my space, his chest heaving against mine. “You will sleep in here with me, or in your room alone, with no knife.”
“Fuck, okay. Fine.”
I drop onto the bed and he moves to turn off the light, but when my features tighten he pauses.
He doesn’t say anything or ask questions, but he pulls out his cell phone and lights up the screen, setting it on the dresser before turning off the light.
The phone acts as a nightlight.
Maddoc climbs in the bed beside me but stays on his side.
After a few minutes, I flip over to face him, finding his eyes open and on me.
“Why didn’t you go back to the party?”
“I thought you were tired?” he complains.
“I don’t sleep without my knife.”
“And the music and flashlight.”
I shrug against the pillow, not acknowledging he remembered those little details from when he snuck in my room.
“If Maybell finds the knife, she’ll take it.”
“And if she takes it, I’ll find it, take it back and leave.”
His eyes shift between mine. “Just like that, huh?”
“Just like that. I’m already somewhere I didn’t choose to be. If I feel like my ability to protect myself is gone, I will be too.”
“You act like where you come from is better.”
“You act like you know what my life was like when you have no clue. You may have read my files, big man, but those are the words of others put together by an educated man in the fanciest way possible to make it look like someone somewhere was doing their job. Reality can’t be typed on a letterhead and sealed with a stamp.”
“So it was worse than—”
“Dirty trailer with an even dirtier mother, filthy men and fighting so I could eat or blow off steam when needed. Sleeping on the bleachers so I didn’t have to listen to grown men accidentally moan my name instead of my mother’s, then get my ass kicked because, you know, I shouldn’t be so appealing.”