Page 30 of Inflame

“What did I do to ever deserve how you’re treating me right now?” he asks, making me stumble back a step in the elevator.

I swear this man will always play the victim. I can hear the slur to his words and know he’s drunk. When he’s drinking, there’s no way to rationalize with him. Plus, it is super shitty to be turning his bad mood around and blaming me. This is not my fault. I know not to expect a heartfelt apology tonight or even tomorrow. When someone never thinks they are in the wrong, then they also do not find any need to say the words “I’m sorry.” But who knows, maybe he’ll surprise me. This whole relationship is being held together right now by hope. Hope that we can settle our differences. Hope for a better future.

“Can we please just continue this conversation tomorrow?”

“You should be damn thankful that you have me in your life. I provide everything for you. You’re living off me for free. Using me.”

His words sober me up fast. I, too, have been drinking. There’s only so much pushing he can do to me before I snap.

“I’m hanging up now. We can discuss this tomorrow.” My words come out angry, heated. I am teetering on the brink of saying something I will regret.

I hit the red end button and stomp out of the elevator when it reaches our floor. I can feel Nic’s eyes burning holes in the back of me. He has enough courtesy to keep his comments to himself. I hate when people see me cry. I usually only allow Angie that privilege. We have been through so much together that baring my soul to her was a natural occurrence when we spent years under the same roof during our college days.

Nic unlocks the door and opens it, stepping back so I can walk through. I march into my room and slam the door a little too loud, considering Graham and Angie are probably in bed.

The time reads 11:52 p.m. on the clock near my bed. I strip down and put on a pair of red silk shorts and a white tank top. I brush my teeth and crawl into bed.

I toss and turn, just barely falling asleep before shaking myself awake again. I feel dehydrated and in need of a bottle of water. It is slightly after three, and I feel like I didn’t even sleep. My head hurts from a dull headache starting at the base of my neck and working its way upwards.

I roll out of bed and pad across the room until I reach the door leading out to the shared living space. I avoid turning on lights as to not stimulate my brain into thinking it is morning. Making my way into the kitchen, I find the fridge and pull out a chilled bottle of water. I crack open the safety seal and take a long sip. I close the door and turn to walk back into my room when I crash into a wall of chiseled muscle.

“Shit,” I slur, dumping water from my bottle down my white tank. I stare down at my top as it slowly becomes see-through. I am lacking the protection of a bra, and instantly I bring my arms up to cross over my chest to give myself a little coverage.

“Sorry, I heard a noise and came to investigate,” Nic says, keeping me from falling over as I rock back and forth on my feet. He is shirtless and just wearing a fitted pair of black boxer briefs. His body is stacked. Tanned and taut. He motions to my bottle. “Sorry about the water. What are you doing up?”

“I have a headache.”

He nods. “It’s a good thing you are drinking some water. You probably are dehydrated.”

Nic’s eyes move slowly down my body, settling on my crossed arms. I am pretty sure I am just accentuating my cleavage even more, but I don’t know what else to do. His smirk is subtle, and I glance away to try to keep myself calm. The air-conditioned room is making my nipples press against my arms, reminding me once again I am braless.

I step back and almost fall on my ass. Nic steadies me, yet again. When did I become incapable of walking without making a fool of myself? “I better get back to bed.” I sound out of breath and my lower half tingles with a need to rub myself to release. Nic brings out a wild side to me—like an itch is building under my skin and only he can cure it. He makes me feel feminine and even more petite, just by standing next to me.

I am with Ethan. I chose Ethan. Ethan is my boyfriend. I stayed in Portland for Ethan. Ethan has been treating me like shit. Ethan is currently having a hissy fit over a picture I never even posted.

How did I even find myself in the middle of a mess I don’t even think I created? But here I stand, staring at an entirely different mess in the form of a beautiful six-foot-tall Greek statue of a built man. He’s a dirty fantasy come to life. And his hands… Gah, his hands are huge. I can’t help but wonder if every other region of his body shares similar characteristics.

“I’m going to go for a walk if you want to join.”

I look up at Nic’s face. The kitchen counters are lit with lights from underneath the cabinets, which cast a warm glow on his facial features. He must be able to tell I am lost in my own thoughts. Granted, they were indecent thoughts of him, but thoughts, nonetheless.

“Now?”

“When I can’t sleep, I usually hit up my home gym. But I’m not at home, and I definitely am struggling with sleep.”

I nod with understanding. “Same. I have so much on my mind. Maybe some fresh air will do me good. Do you think it’s safe at this hour to be walking?”

He looks surprised by my question. Maybe he just assumes I’m reckless and stupid, like I’ve proven many times before in the past. “You’ll be surprised just how many people will be out,” he says, as if he is certain we won’t be alone at three in the morning.

“Let me change into something less…” I just leave the statement hanging when I realize that there is no answer that won’t sound awkward. I hurry back to my room and slip on a simple yellow tank dress over a pink bra and panty set. I pile my hair on top of my head in a high ponytail, similar to the style I would do when I was a cheerleader in high school. I liked the camaraderie I had when being on a squad but quickly learned that friendship can be superficial and competition can be deeply rooted in jealousy.

When I step out of my bedroom, Nic is all ready to go in gray cargo shorts and a black T-shirt. He opens the door and allows me to go through first. I can’t tell if this is him trying to play the role of a gentleman or if he genuinely is a nice guy.

I instantly stop in the doorway and whirl my body around, propping my hands on my hips. The question bugging me in the back of my head bursts out of my mouth before I can snap it shut. “Why did you give me such a hard time prior to the trip about my itinerary?”

He doesn’t answer, so I awkwardly turn and keep walking toward the elevator bank.

“Because you are cute when you’re mad.”

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