Page 58 of The Dollhouse

I shook off the strange feeling, heading inside. As I went to the elevator, I kept throwing looks over my shoulder, as if I half-expected someone to rush up to me, throw another sack over my head, and kidnap me.

Thanks for the paranoia, Roman.

What should be needless to say, I got on the elevator with no issues. The ride up took only a few moments, and I zoned out during most of it, wondering what the hell was going on. I really needed sleep if I was hearing things. The doors slid open before me, and I walked out, my intent to go to my apartment and hit the sack, but my legs froze when I spotted the slouched figure just outside my door.

Lake was asleep in the hallway right outside my apartment, his blonde hair so messy it was cute, his legs in nothing but athletic shorts and his lean torso wearing a Superman t-shirt.

God, he was so cute, even when he was passed out in what must be the most uncomfortable position ever.

I quietly moved to his side, kneeling before him. A part of me hated to wake him up, but I couldn’t ignore him, pretend I didn’t see him, and let him sleep here. I set a hand on his shoulder, whispering his name quietly, “Lake.”

He stirred, blinking open his eyes. He was normally a morning person, up bright and early, but even this was too early for that. “What—Zoey, I…” He yawned.

Before he could say anything else, I helped him get to his feet. Lake leaned on me, barely able to walk as I led him back to his apartment—his door was unlocked, by the way, so anyone could’ve just strolled in while he was passed out in the hall. I brought him inside, depositing him on his bed.

His apartment was decorated in much the same way as mine, though you could tell his furniture was from cheap bargain stores, most everything made of pressboard and not real, hand-crafted wood like all of the furniture Roman had delivered for me. Still, it was a more colorful space, full of pop culture references and posters on the wall. It was such a Lake place; no matter where I looked, everything reminded me of him.

Lake crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders and giving me another yawn. “We need to talk,” he murmured, his voice slurring the words a bit due to how out of it he was right now.

Gingerly, I sat on the edge of his bed, and I gave him a tiny smile. “We will,” I said, a promise. “But not right now. Go back to bed, Lake.”

He whispered, “Just give me… an hour.” And with that, he rolled onto his side, giving me his back.

The teeny smile on my face only grew, and it took everything in me to heave a sigh and get up, to leave Lake alone in that bed and go to my own apartment. I’d like nothing more than to crawl in that bed, to play the big spoon to his little spoon, and just hold him. Apologize for all the shit I’d dragged him into.

No. I wouldn’t do anything with Lake until we had a chat.

I kicked off my shoes before collapsing on my bed. I didn’t bother to get under the covers, my mind racing as it thought about Lake. Though I was exhausted from a long night, I didn’t think sleep would come to me at all, but it must’ve, because I closed my eyes for what I thought was one second, and the next thing I knew, sunlight streamed through the lone window near my bed.

My head felt heavy, like it always did after I got hardly any sleep. I rolled onto my other side, facing away from the window, about to doze back off when a knock echoed in the tiny space. I didn’t get up right away, mostly because I was tired and wanted to sleep for a few more hours, but then I remembered what happened when I got home from work, how Lake had been so adorably passed out near my apartment, and I forced myself out of that bed.

It was a struggle, trust me.

My bare feet shuffled to the door, and I opened it, finding the man in question himself on the other side, too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for my liking. Now it was my turn to yawn.

Lake’s sapphire gaze traveled along me, noting how I still wore my jacket from work. “I could come back later? I didn’t know if you’d be sleeping or if… well, obviously you were sleeping.” He took a step back. “I could come back—”

I reached out, grabbed him by the shirt collar, and pulled him into my apartment, closing the door with another yawn.

Lake rubbed the back of his neck as he went to sit on the sofa. The same sofa I’d come onto him, the same sofa that was a part of the equation that got us into this mess. I watched as he reclined back, looking mighty awkward and uneasy.

I decided to sit cross-legged at the foot of my bed, about five feet from where he was, and I said what I said next to try to ease his awkwardness, “Crystal told me what happened.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a shaky sigh. “Oh, good. Well, I mean, it’s not good, exactly, but—”

Since I knew he’d continue to ramble, I went on, “Roman had you brought to the Dollhouse. He had Crystal come onto you…” I did not like the thought of that woman trying to seduce Lake, so I shook it from my mind, glad I wasn’t there to see it. “But you stopped her.”

“Yeah,” Lake admitted. “I still don’t get it, but…” He shrugged, those pretty eyes locking with mine. He looked so lonely on that couch; I really wished I could sit next to him, hug him, touch him, but we really needed to have this talk, first. “Don’t get me wrong, Crystal is pretty, but she’s not you.”

Me. Me with the fucked-up family. Me with the obnoxiously pink hair. Me, the girl who was trying to find herself in this mess that was life.

Lake managed to smile, even though this wasn’t really a smiling matter. “And then I might’ve yelled at him a little, so if I wind up dead, you’ll know who to blame.”

“He won’t hurt you,” I said. “I won’t let him.” That was something I meant with my entire heart; I would not let Roman Russo hurt Lake, not while I still had fight left in me.

“I appreciate that,” Lake spoke, a grin breaking out on his face, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “He, uh, basically said if I hurt you, he’d kill me. That man is something else. Can’t say I’ve ever met anyone like him, and to be honest, my life was just fine without him in it.” He shifted his weight, rubbing his palms over his pants. He’d changed out of what must’ve been his pajamas, now wearing jeans and a new shirt. “But, then again, if I never met him, where would that leave us?”

It was a moment before I said, “I don’t know.”

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