Page 26 of Indigo Sky

I shrugged and allowed my fingers to sweep away the stray, pink hairs that had fluttered out from her ponytail. “It’s just … never happened.”

“So, you don’t just … not do random hookups,” she speculated, working to put the pathetic puzzle together. “You’ve never …”

“No.”

I expected her to laugh again, to make fun of me for being a twenty-two-year-old virgin. But she didn’t, and I was grateful.

“You’re a really special guy, Rev.” She stood on her toes again to press one more kiss against my lips. “Hold on to that.”

“What? My virginity?” I snorted at my own feeble attempt at a joke.

“No. Your decency,” she corrected, smiling.

She stepped away and grabbed her bags from the ground. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed, but I also didn’t mind. I just wanted to see her again.

But then I thought about Nate. The fury in his eyes after her repeated rejection. I couldn’t say I was scared of him, but I couldn’t say I trusted him to behave himself either. And somehow, I knew it was better to walk away—at least until I had the chance to feel him out.

“Thanks for bumping into me, Indigo Sky,” I said as she took two steps backward in the direction of her car.

Then, she smiled, a touch of regret glinting in her eyes beneath the lamppost, before turning around and walking away.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Here’s the part of the story where you probably expect that I went home to talk to Nate and found out he was totally cool with whatever the fuck had happened with Indigo Sky and we all lived happily ever after.

Right?

Well, no, of course you wouldn’t. Because if that was the case, I wouldn’t be telling this story at all, would I?

Nah, what happened was this …

***

I unlocked the door and headed up the stairs to the apartment I’d shared with Nate for a little over a year. At this point, the place was more home than even my parents’ house, and I walked inside without ceremony. I dropped my keys on the counter and kicked off my boots by the door, ready to jump in the shower and wash off the evidence of my night at Midnight Lotus, knowing the memories would linger for years. Walking through to the bathroom, I glanced around and realized the place hadn’t been touched since I’d been here earlier, before heading to the club.

Nate had left Midnight Lotus, but he hadn’t returned home.

“Huh,” I grunted, wondering where he had gone.

Maybe he had gone to my parents’ house. The place had been as much his as it was mine for a few years, and I knew he felt comfortable there. Or maybe he’d gone to a bar to gloss over the hurt of rejection.

But either way, I grabbed my phone before turning on the shower and sent a text:Hey, just making sure you’re alive.

I showered and relived the memories of Indigo Sky, this time coming with intention against the shower wall.Fuck.

It had been humiliating at the time, but hours later, the sting of embarrassment was gone. Now, it was only hot. The hottest moment of my life—not that I had much to compare it to. But, shit, it was so much better than what some kids had as their first intimate experience, like an awkward dry-hump in their parents’ basement or a fumble in the back of a car or something. Nah, this felt unique and sorta special, and, yeah, I felt a little like a badass for it.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” she had said, but that went both ways.

What was it abouther?

I washed my body and hair, sighing into the steam and spray of water. It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t see her again. It was a hot night that had ended on a bittersweet note, and that was all it would be, but …

A bang came from somewhere in the apartment. Something that sounded like the door being pushed open with force. I jolted and got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. Rivulets of water dripped from my skin andonto the floor as I hurried out of the bathroom and into the living room, where I found Nate slamming the door shut behind him. My relief was quick to disappear when I registered the rage on his face.

“Hey,” I said cautiously, watching as he stomped around the apartment without purpose.

He dropped his cigarettes on the table. Kicked off his shoes beside his bedroom door. Dumped his keys on the coffee table. Every action was done with aggressive intent, anger driving his every move.

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