Page 55 of The Misfit

lee

The door slamsbehind Aries as he leaves, and the sound echoes through my bones like a gunshot. My hands shake with leftover adrenaline and rage.Fucking asshole.What the hell was he thinking, fucking with something that isn’t his? It’s an irrational thought since Salem isn’t technically mine, but it doesn’t matter.

I can’t wrap my head around what made him think bringing her here was a good idea, acting like he knows a damn thing about what’s going on between us. He doesn’t know anything. No one does. Just Salem and I. So why the fuck was he pressing so hard for answers?

Water drips from my hair, trailing down my back, so I snatch a towel off my bed and tighten it low on my hips. The room feels too small, too hot, the remnants of steam from my shower making everything blurry. Or maybe that’s just the anger clouding my vision.

“Salem?” My voice comes out rougher than intended. She’s still hiding in the bathroom, and I don’t blame her.What a fucking mess.“You can come out. He’s gone.”

The silence stretches between us, broken only by the water droplets hitting the hardwood floor. I count them without meaning to—one, two, three.

It’s crazy how her habits are becoming mine.

“Are you …” Her voice is muffled through the door. “Are you dressed?”

Heat crawls up my neck. Why the hell am I blushing? This is my room. “Not exactly. Just a towel.”

More silence. “Oh.”

That single syllable carries so much weight. So much possibility. I drag a hand through my wet hair, trying to think past the rage still simmering under my skin. Past the way she looked at me when she first walked in—shock mixed with something darker, hungrier.

“I can get dressed if?—”

“Uhh, no!” The word bursts from her so quickly it startles us both. “I mean … I just… give me a minute.”

I hear her counting under her breath. One, two, three deep breaths. The familiar pattern soothes me even as it makes my heart race faster.

The bathroom door opens slowly. Salem emerges, and her face is a mixture of terrified and determined. Her chin up, lips pursed, but her eyes are haunted. Her gaze immediately drops to my chest, then lower, following a water droplet as it trails down my abs. Her gloved hands clench at her sides.

“I’m sorry.” We both speak at the same time.

A laugh escapes me, but it sounds strained. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Aries… fuck, I don’t know what got into him. I never thought he’d?—”

“Was he telling the truth?” She still doesn’t meet my eyes. “I know this is fake, obviously, but … is it a game? Is it some twisted joke?”

My heart stops. “Salem—no. Aries doesn’t …”

“Just be honest, please.”

“Honest? I’ve been honest with you from the very beginning.”

Kinda.There are things I’ve done she knows nothing about and hopefully never will. I take a step closer, the towel slipping dangerously low. Her eyes track the movement, and something hot unfurls in my stomach.

“Then tell me the truth. I know we have an agreement, obviously.” She swallows. “But is it more than that… like some kind of pity party? A game because you’re bored and tired of the same old, same old?”

“Nothing about this is a game to me.” The words hang between us like mist in the air, making it hard to breathe. Water drips from my hair onto my shoulders, and I watch her follow the droplets’ path down my chest—down, down, down until they disappear beneath the towel.

I continue. “Aries knows nothing about our agreement. He doesn’t know what we’re doing. He only acts like he does.”

She nods, and it looks like she believes me, but that’s not good enough. Not for me.

“I took some of your anxiety medication.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Or whatever was on your bathroom sink. I thought it might make this easier. I was on the brink of a panic attack, and I remembered you saying they helped, and I just … I shouldn’t have, but…”

That explains the boldness. The way she’s looking at me. The slight dilation of her pupils.

“Salem.” I take another step closer, and she doesn’t back away this time. “You’re not thinking clearly right now.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.” Her gloved hands twist together. “Maybe I think too much, usually. Count too much. Clean too much. Maybe …”

---