The expression falls from concern to understanding. “I’m not leaving, so you should stop asking me to.”
“I ain’t askin’.”
“Sin.”
“Shelby,” I mock, trying to be a dick. My behavior is cut short by a sharp cramping in my stomach. “Ah, fuck.”
“What is it? Sin!” Her soft voice crescendos with her concern.
“Stop calling me that,” I moan, fighting the urge to curl into a ball. I know it’s the withdrawals and hunger pains. I’m not actually dying even though I’ve felt like it for days. The worst of it is over, so long as I can hold out on the urge to plunge another needle in my vein.
“Then what should I call you?” She sits back down on the bed. Close enough to reach me but far enough away to show she’s still afraid of me. I hope that means she’s learned her lesson.
“Alexander … Alex. Just stop calling me Sin.”
Now, why the fuck did I say that?
My head hits the pillows, and I shift in the bed. I use the movement to mask that I’m watching her from my periphery. She twists her fingers, watches them. Then shifts her gaze around the room. I don’t know what she sees, but there’s nothing in here—nothing on the walls, no picture frames. I have a bed, a dresser, a closet, and a bathroom. The walls are a faded yellow, probably more from cigarette smoke than actual paint, and the carpet is a dark forest green shag.
“Okay … Alex.” As my name slips off her tongue, she peeks at me from beneath her lashes. That right there is why I wanted to hear my real name fall from her lips. That look on her face while she says it.
I close my eyes, shutting out her face. “Now go.”
“Si-I mean, Alex. You need to eat.”
“I’ll eat when I’m ready,” I growl, opening my eyes to glare at her.
“One bite, Alex. Please.”
I don’t know what it is. The look on her face or the way she says my name, but I find myself giving in. “Give me the fuckin’ spoon. Jesus Christ.”
Her lips tip up in a small, accomplished smile as she shifts the bowl of chicken noodle soup closer and gives me the spoon.
Sweet Jesus, the second that broth hits my tongue, I want to grab the bowl and lap it up like a Doberman. It takes every ounce of strength to keep my face neutral and slowly lift another spoonful to my lips.
“Is it good?”
“Hmph,” I grunt around another spoonful.
“Elias has been letting me cook at his place. He showed me how to read the recipes and left me to it. I’ve been going a little crazy …”
The hopeful look on her face is too much. “It’s good.”
Those two words light her up like a Christmas tree. “You think so? I have a hard time following the spice recommendations on recipes. I find they always suggest way too much, so it’s like I’m eating a mouthful of herbs. I’m not used to such flavorful food. I’ve been playing around and adding my own.” She stops suddenly. A pink blush spreads across her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I’m glad you like it. I’ll just leave you to it.”
As she goes to stand, something comes over me, and I reach out and snatch her wrist. It becomes obvious instantly that it was the wrong move. She freezes. As quickly as I grabbed her, I let her go, muttering a, “Sorry.”
The sound of her deep breathing pierces my chest. Way to fuck things up, idiot.
“It’s ... okay. Just … don’t grab me. Please.”
“Shelby …” I let her name linger, at a loss for words. My lungs constrict at the residual horror etched on her face.
She throws on an artificial smile. “Nope! It’s okay. I’m going to clean up the dishes in the kitchen while you eat. I’ll be back in a bit.”
I don’t give her a response, and she doesn’t wait for one before she rushes from the room.
Shelby lingers around my apartment for the rest of the afternoon but avoids me except to take away my dirty bowl and refill my glass of water. As the sun starts to sink, casting apricot shadows around the room, I want to move. I feel better than I have in days. A residual ache hovers throughout my body, causing the shakes, but the food and drink have definitely helped.
A grin takes my lips, and I let out a low, three-toned whistle as I approach the hall; the memory of my stupid attempt to alleviate her fear of an intruder floats through my mind. That moment was like a snake trying to comfort a rabbit before it eats it. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing when it comes to Shelby, but she brings out a different side of me without even trying.
Her soft giggle hits my ears and stops me in the mouth of the hall. I close my eyes and replay the sound in my head.
I made her laugh.
How the hell did a big bastard like me make that princess laugh?
And what does it say that I want to do it again?
“Hey, you all right?” she calls, probably wondering why I haven’t moved. Her words unstick me, and I stride into the room.
“My body fuckin’ kills. I needed to get out of that bed before I became a part of it.”
The last part of that sentence goes right over her head. At the mention of my body, her eyes widen before scanning me from head to toe, and she hasn’t moved a muscle since. Except for her eyes. They haven’t stopped taking me in. If she doesn’t stop, she’s going to see me tenting my pants like a hormonal teenager.
I cross my arms over my chest and paste a cocky grin on my face. “You all right?”
At my voice, she nearly jumps off the couch. Her eyes snap back to mine. The pinkness looks nice on her cheeks. A sign of life. “Yes,” she replies, a little breathless. “Want to join me? I was going to watch a movie, but I don’t know how to work this thing.” She holds up the controller to my PlayStation.
I cross the living space and plant my ass on the couch near the center. She scoots off to one side and cuddles the arm of the couch.
“I don’t bite.” My words sound darker than I intend them.
“I know. I’m just comfortable over here.” She sends a smile my way, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
She’s still afraid of me, and I only have myself to blame for that. Every time she’s warmed up to me, I’ve chased her away.
“Let’s fire up Netflix and find a movie. No girly shit, though. I only watch action films. If someone falls in love along the way, whatever, but it can’t be the entire plot, or I’m turning it off.”
“Do you not believe in love?”
I snort. “Two people can enjoy fucking and the other’s company enough to coexist and tolerate each other for the rest of their lives. It’s basic human nature to care about another person. But the concept of love like little girls are taught basically from the womb is nothing but a marketing gimmick.”
“How unromantic.”
“How realistic.”
“I find that sad. Haven’t you ever loved somebody?”
The question strikes a nerve. Deep. I loved Molly more than my own life and look where that got me? Her? “There’s a difference between romantic love and loving someone who was a piece of yourself.”
“You mean Molly?”
My head whips around so fast I get a pain in my neck. “What do you know?”