Page 33 of The War Revision
Cole doesn’t stop me from reaching the door. He remains silent. And that makes me even angrier. I want to leave, to go far away from him, but I don’t want him to want that.
Fuck, I don’t even make sense anymore. I flip him the finger and slam the door. I know it’s damn petty and childish, but I can’t stop myself.
I’m seething. Who does he think he is? Fucking asshole. I’ll show him how much fooling around I can do. I ignore my apartment door and go straight for the stairs.
Going down is fucking uncomfortable with lube and cum between my ass cheeks. But I’m not going back upstairs. I’m going to a club to hook up. My ass is loose and ready to be fucked. It’ll put everything that happened with Cole into perspective, and I’ll file the whole thing away and move on.
I squeeze my inner muscles when I step to the ground floor. Hating it and loving it. The slight ache, the emptiness, the wetness. It’s as if Cole has marked his place.
What a moronic thought.
My Kawasaki is waiting in the parking lot. But, “Damn!” I left the keys in my apartment.
I pull out my phone and call an Uber. Three minutes of cursing and kicking the air later, a car stops in front of me. I give the driver the name of a gay club twenty minutes from here. The drive is excruciating, it feels like there’s a lead weight on my chest. My knee keeps jumping up and down, and I feel sweat coming down my spine. My head falls back, and I ask the driver to turn up the music, hoping Bebe Rexha might drown out the voice inside my head. It’s screaming at me to stop and think. It sounds suspiciously and disturbingly like Jordie’s.
Maybe I should let the anger lessen and…what? Let the hurt of the rejection come up again? I am not going to feel sorry for myself. Fuck that! I’m strong and resourceful. I’m amazing. I’m a fucking unicorn!
It doesn’t matter if Cole lights a fire in me, if he ignited a willingness to be seen and cared for. I’ve been fixated on him only because I wanted to explore the bottoming role. But I can do that with someone else.
“We’re here,” the driver says.
The elevator’s doors close and a memory of the time Jordie started yelling and pressing the emergency button, convinced Dennis Hopper was after us pops into my aching head. What if instead ofSpeed,we watchedThe Shiningthat night? I wonder if I still have some of that strong weed we smoked. Probably not.
The elevator opens on my floor, and I drag myself to my apartment. My feet don’t seem to respond very well to my brain’s signals. I feel myself sway and I walk with my hand skimming the wall, wanting to avoid the high chance of face-planting. Nevertheless, I doface-kissthe wall a couple of times before stopping in front of my door. The dark brown wooden cross looks depressing, maybe I should paint it flamingo pink. The same shade of my favorite t-shirt and boxers and shorts. The ones from Cole’s prank.
“Fuck!” I swear under my breath. Need more booze. My hand fumbles inside my jeans pocket. What am I looking for? Oh, right, keys. Wallet. Phone. A piece of paper. Another piece of paper. No keys. I try the handle, but the door is locked. I turn around and let my body drop back with a thud. My mind is floating in alcohol, and I need a minute to let the wheels turn.
My jaw and left side are pulsing with pain. It’s all his fault. Once again, the Devil fucked me. And not in the way I wanted him to.
Why? Why? Why? My fingers run through my hair and pull in frustration.
I push myself up, fired up by my anger, and I find myself across the hallway at his door. My foot kicks against the wood while my hands are splayed palms down on the door. My forehead falls against the cold surface.
The room suddenly tilts, my head spins, and I drop forward against a very hard, warm, bare chest.
“Kaiden?” Cole’s voice forces my eyes open, and I lean back a smidge, focusing my gaze on his face. It takes a few seconds, but the sight of his messy hair and frowny eyebrows makes my heart jump.
“It’s two in the morning. What happened?” I’m almost jolted from my position when fingers brush against my bruised jaw.
“Your fault,” I slur.Why is it his fault though?
“Damn it, Kaiden. How much did you drink?” He sounds angry. But I am too, don’t know why. But I am.
The hand on my bicep guides me to a chair. I drop heavely onto it, wincing on the way down feeling the pain in my side.
“Not enough. Got any tequila?” I ask hopefully.
Cole passes me a glass of what looks like unfortunately water, and a couple of pills. I down them.
He lifts my t-shirt and grunts. “Were you in a fight?”
I’m trying to remember, but Cole’s worried face is distracting me. Just like his body is, covered only in a pair of tight black briefs.
He sighs. “You need a shower and some rest. I’ll take you to your place,” he offers.
“No keys,” I reply, smiling at Meghan’s cute, little sniffing nose. She’s hiding under the sofa.
“Come on.”
