Page 88 of Burn

Clean

Lex

The air conditioner flicks off, making a clunky noise that drags me violently from sleep. My heart races in my chest, and it takes me a few seconds to remember where I am: in a shitty motel, in my shitty hometown.

When the bed shifts beside me, I start once again, and now I’mreallycurious how likely it is to have a heart attack before the age of thirty. I place my hand over my heart, focusing on the erratic feeling of it thrumming. It’s so fast.

Adrian shifts, rolling over and slinging his thick, muscular arm over my stomach. I visually trace the veins that rope around his forearms, switching to study his tattoos when the veins are no longer visible in his relaxed bicep. The bold lines create beautiful art. They’re all animals, and somehow, they seem so perfectlyAdrian. A hawk, a bear, a wolf. All violent predators that match his masculine and, at times, predatory nature.

He sighs in his sleep. It’s deep and peaceful, and so vastly different from the terror he seems often plagued by, so I watch him. I memorize the curves of his face, the hard ridges of the muscles that line his back. When I’m sure I could never forget every one of his tragically beautiful features, I resort to counting the grains of stubble that line his face, like an absolute lunatic.

This is normal female behavior.

Everyone does this with guys they…

Guys they what?

Jesus Christ.

Somewhere in the room, a phone buzzes. I silently curse it, demanding it shut the fuck up. When it obeys, I smile, feelingsatisfied and accomplished. Like a true, ‘Ha! Take that!’ moment.

It’s short-lived.

Moments later, the buzzing starts again, and Adrian groans into his pillow and rolls onto his back, removing the safety net of his arm. The area his weighted heat had occupied now feels desolate and cold. It’s too early for me to be this grumpy, so I push myself slowly out of bed, and creep through the darkened room in search of the demonic electronic that’s ruining my already likely to be shitty day.

I locate my phone, the culprit of the buzzing, sitting on top of Adrian’s jacket. He must have found it and brought it back, because I’m not sure where I left it last night.

Last night.

My face throbs at the thought of last night. I grab my phone, in its stupid grim reaper case, and tuck myself into the bathroom. The lights are off, so I reach for the switch, slamming my eyes closed. Thankfully, the lights are dim, and they don’t impact the dull ache behind my eyes like the lights in Adrian’s place would. I didn’t close them because of the light. No. I closed them because I’m putting off seeing myself in the mirror.

We came home, and everything was a blur. Adrian somehow managed to act as if I were made of glass, and as if he were ready for war. This bizarre,Twilight Zonemix of aggression and softness. When I told him I needed to shower — shower off the filth Aaron left on my skin — he behaved as if I were a newborn kitten, needing coddling and protection.

I may have been coming down from whatever was in my drink, but I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready to commit actual homicide.

Much to his dismay, I showered and brushed my hair and teeth, but didn’t look in the mirror.

On the counter, my phone buzzes again, and this time it’s me who groans, tilting my head back and rolling my eyes. I slowly lift it, bringing it down in front of me so I can look at it without risking an unexpected glimpse in the mirror.

The photo of Blake and me fills the screen for a brief moment before the call is forwarded to voicemail. Seventeen missed calls, all from Blake. God, I ruined her wedding. I unlock my phone and open my texts. The only recent messages are from Blake, and I wince as I open the thread.

“Morgan?”

“What the fuck happened?”

“I’m so sorry!”

“Please call me.”

“Fucking Charlie knows everyone.”

“The police interviewed people — are you okay?”

“I’m losing my mind. Call me.”

“MORGAN!”

“I swear to god I will never forgive you for this.”

---