Elliott
Standing outside my bedroom door, I think about what I want to do with Nicole. She deserves better than this bullshit, and somehow, it’s always bullshit with me. I can never give women more than that, and it’s because of the girl downstairs.
I walk in, and from my shut door, I stare at her. She’s sitting on my bed with her legs crossed.
“Care to explain?” she asks with a raised brow.
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Elliott, I tolerate your moodiness and how you’re not one for conversation. I also know you’ve made no commitment to me.” She shakes her head. “You’ve made damn sure I don’t forget that, but if you’re sleeping with another woman in this house, I have a right to know.”
“I’m not sleeping with her.”
“Then why did she look utterly devastated to see us? If she’s with Jake, why was she walking down the staircase when his bedroom’s downstairs?”
“Sailor’s the sister of a girlfriend I had in high school. A girlfriend who died. We haven’t seen each other since, so it was surprising to find her in my home. I guess Jake’s messing around with her.”
“Oh, wow, I’m so sorry. That explains why you both looked so shocked.”
“I need you to leave. I can’t do this tonight.”
“You know, there’s more to me than my body. I could be there for you. We could talk or watch a movie, but you don’t have to be alone.”
“I want to be alone. That’s why I asked you to leave.”
“Well, then.” Climbing off my bed, Nicole walks toward me with her head lowered. Jake’s right; I’m a dick. Opening the door for her, I step back so she can leave, but as soon as she starts to walk out, I grab her arm.
“I’m sorry I was an ass and snapped at you. I care about you. You know that, right?”
She turns her head to look up at me, and her hazel eyes are watery.
“What I know is that you have an odd way of showing someone you care about them, and I tolerate it when I deserve better.”
Before I can reply, she leaves my room. Fuck my life.
***
I’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours. I’m hungry and need alcohol. Surely, Sailor is either gone or in Jake’s room, so it should be safe to go downstairs.
Just the thought of her being in his bed sends fury through my veins. He doesn’t deserve her. Neither of us do.
I walk downstairs in my pajama pants and a t-shirt. The TV is on but muted, and Jake’s asleep on the couch. At least, I thought he was, but instead, his eyes are open, and he’s glaring up at me.
“Why aren’t you in bed?” I ask.
“Sailor didn’t want to sleep in the guest room, so I gave her mine.”
“Interesting. I mean, that’s a first for you to be on the couch while there’s a chick in your bed.”
“She’s not just a chick, and I guess you should know her apartment complex burned to the ground yesterday morning. She lost everything. Her best friend left town, and her parents are in Europe. She has no one.”
“I find that hard to believe. She’s a Lockwood. She has a huge family and likely has an even bigger circle of friends.”
“You really haven’t talked to her.”
“Why would you think otherwise?”
“After the way you two reacted to seeing each other, I began to wonder if you had a more recent history.”
“I haven’t seen her in ten years.” Leaving Jake alone, I head into the kitchen and only turn a light on over the stove. I make a salad, which is futile to my health since I also go to the dining room to grab a bottle of whiskey.
Hearing Jake’s door open, I freeze. I catch a glimpse of Sailor as she heads into the living room, and as soon as I hear her talking to Jake, curiosity gets the best of me.
I walk over to the corner of the dining room to listen. If I were in the kitchen, she’d know I was there, but here she can’t see me.
“I keep thinking about how uncomfortable you have to be. Come to bed,” she says.
“Are you sure that’s not a maybe?”
“I want you to come to bed … with me.”
I lean my head back against the wall, and opening the bottle of whiskey, I take a long drink. Screw the glass.
This is another punishment. No doubt a twisted one. I guess Jake screwing Rebecca wasn’t enough. He has to have Sailor, too.
I can’t blame him for this one. He doesn’t know shit about what went down between Sailor and me, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Hearing his door shut, I walk back to the kitchen and dump my bowl of salad into the trash. I head up the stairs, and gripping the neck of the whiskey bottle tighter, I hold it up.
“I guess it’s just you, me and Alexa tonight.”