His gaze went straight to the open bedroom door and my white-duvet-covered queen sized bed.
“This will work,” he said with a decisive nod. And before I could grab some of my things or offer to change the sheets, he’d ushered me from the apartment and shut the door between us.
Chapter 8
Dylan
PEAKS BARELY ESCAPE ELIMINATION WITH SAVAGE OUT OF THE LINE-UP
Dylan Savage was missing from what could arguably be described as this season’s most important game on the path to the PHL finals. The Peaks barely pulled off a 2-1 win last night, cementing their place in the top sixteen teams. The team declined to comment on Savage’s absence. Rumors surrounding the disappearance of their star center following the tragic death of teammate, Shiloh Blaire, continue to overshadow the Peaks’ victory.
A warm body snuggledinto my chest, and I blinked against the bright shard of sunlight cutting through an opening in the blackout curtains.
Only to find myself eye to eye with a naked alien. With zero fur, wrinkled skin, and a body so skinny, a stick drawing of it would be true to size, the “cat” very much resembled a nightmare straight out of a Stephen King novel.
“Ugh.” As I scrambled to sit up, it tumbled off my chest with an irritated purr, then proceeded to stroll from my bedroom as if it owned the place.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. How in the world had it gotten in the apartment? When I fell asleep, it hadn’t been here.
I yawned and wished I could sleep the day away, but after a lifetime of training myself to get up early, my body didn’t work like that. I’d stayed up half the night working out until my limbs and brain felt like jelly and I stopped dissecting how the game could have gone differently had I been there.
The team won without me. Why did that make me feel worse than before? It wasn’t that I wanted them to lose, but I wanted them to need me.
A glance at the contemporary cuckoo clock on the wall opposite the bed confirmed that I’d only gotten three hours of sleep. Probably in part due to the obnoxious clock.
Hopefully every day didn’t crawl by as slowly. Or as painfully. I trudged to the bathroom and studied my face in the mirror, turning right and left to check out my nose. It was a little red and swollen near the bridge, but nothing an ice pack and some anti-inflammatories wouldn’t take care of.
A quick shower—with rose-scented body wash—helped to clear my head enough to realize that all of Rosie Forrester’s belongings were in this apartment. Including a pink lacy bra hanging from the inside door handle of the bathroom and amatching pair of underwear bunched up in the corner by the door.
She hadn’t anticipated not sleeping in her own apartment, which probably meant she had no clothes to change into last night. Her make-up was scattered on the counter next to an empty bowl of cat food.
Maybe I was as big a tool as the media said.
A low rumbling noise had me jumping out of my skin. I swore as my elbow hit the shower handle. Had the alleged cat been in here with me the entire time? A shudder rolled through me.
I raced through the rest of my shower and dressed in the bedroom, with the door shut against any intruders.It’s only temporary. It’ll all be worth it.
If I thought it enough times, maybe I’d start to actually believe it.
My phone lit up with a text.
Dad:Did you make it into town okay?
I looked back through our message history as I opened the curtains and lifted the window to let in some fresh air. Most of the messages were from Dad telling me Merry Christmas or Happy Birthday. I’d always given those a thumbs up.
Only our last four messages were different.
Dad:I’m sorry, Dylan. Shiloh was like a son to us.
I’d ignored that one. And even now, my fingers itched to delete it.
Dylan:Thought I should give you a heads up that I’m coming home.
Dad:For how long?
Dylan:Until the PHL finals.
He didn’t ask why, but then again, it probably wasn’t hard to guess. If I was as viral as Ms. Lincoln said, then they’d probably seen the memes even here in the middle of the ocean.