Page 47 of The Wallflower

His words hang heavy in the air. "I'll repeat myself only once, Bel. Did you tell me to fuck off?"

A boulder sits heavy in my throat, making it difficult for me to speak. I'm not feeling as brave when faced with all of him. His size, his anger, and all the things that lie between us. Big, bulky things I don't know where to stash away or hide.

I try for honesty instead. "I was busy, and I didn't want to see you."

"You don't think a simple, can't talk, I’m busy right now, would suffice? You had to push me? Today of all days. I’m pretty sure I already warned you what happens when I’m pushed too far?"

I glance around the room like I missed something. Who the fuck does he think he is? "What's today? Did I miss your birthday or something? If so, I apologize for not getting you a gift." The snark of my voice is unmissable.

"No, sassy little wallflower, it's not my birthday. But that doesn't matter. I'm not in the mood to deal with your attitude right now."

A loud, rumbling noise fills my ears.Oh god.

Drew’s dark gaze narrows in on me. "When was the last time you ate?"

I clear my throat, gripping the blankets tightly, like they have the power to save me from this brutish man. It's like he only just noticed how much I’m using them as a form of security and reaches out, tugging the blanket from my fingers. I'm not prepared for the hard jerk he gives and nearly tumble out of bed in the process.

“Hey! That wasn’t very nice!” I grumble angrily.

His eyes rake over my suddenly chilly body. An eruption of goose bumps develops when his eyes lock on my ever-rising chest and my tight nipples that press against my thin white tank. I notice the way his nostrils flare, and the hard clench of his jaw, and the tightening of the muscles in his body almost like he’s trying to control himself. Like he’s a prowling animal waiting to eat me alive at any moment.

Regardless of my thoughts, and with the reminder of what happened in the library between us, and how heartless and temperamental he can be, my body's reaction to him is the same. My muscles tighten, and my core becomes damp.Iswearthe temperature inside the room rises ten degrees. My physical attraction to him makes it harder for me to deny that I actually hate him, especially when my body tells me otherwise. Part of me even likes him, at least the glimpses of him he shows me that aren’t hateful and cruel.

Why am I like this? Why does he have this control over me? I should despise him, but somehow, I…can’t.

"I never claimed to be a nice guy, now did I? Get up!" he orders, shaking the blanket and tossing it on the folding chair braced against the end of my bed.

I swallow hard, hoping to keep my voice steady. Men like him prey on any type of weakness. "No, I don't feel good."

"Maybe because your body is trying to eat itself because it’s starving. You needfood,Bel. Get up."

It's on the tip of my tongue to scream at him, but the words come out in a rush of a whisper instead. "Why do you care if I haven’t eaten?"

All I can think is that maybe I should've thought that response through better since immediately he advances, bracing himself over me, one hand on either side of my torso, his long body stretched tall over the side of the bed.

"I really hate repeating myself, flower, yet you make me repeat myself often. Don’t make me have to teach you a lesson. Get the fuck up so I can make you something to eat."

I listen only because I hope that if I do it, he'll make me food and leave. Plus, Ireallydon't remember the last time I ate something. When I'm busy or stuck studying, I tend to forget about normal life functions. That or I skip meals to try to save the money for Mom. Not that I'd ever tell Mom that.OrDrew.

He stalks out to the kitchen, all coiled tension and rage, and I follow, still in my underwear. Why bother when he's seen me completely naked, anyway? I throw myself into a chair at the table, my knees shaky and weak, my head spinning. Okay, maybe I waited too long to eat. Like the caveman he is, he opens the cabinets, rummaging through them before going back to the beginning to tug out a loaf of bread, peanut butter, and strawberry jelly.

It's on the tip of my tongue to warn him that those belong to my roommate, but she dragged him into my life, so the least she can do is sacrifice a sandwich or two. I cautiously watch him as he lays the bread out in a row and spreads peanut butter and jelly on alternating pieces. Then he carefully folds each sandwich together.

It's only now that I really take in his attire, the dress pants, dress shirt, the way his hair is styled so that little bit in the front won't fall down into his face like it usually does. Curiosity blooms in my mind, and I can’t stop myself from asking.

"Where did you come from?"

He doesn't answer for so long that I wonder if he even heard me. But he finally speaks when he places a plate with a sandwich, cut diagonal so it makes two triangles, in front of me and joins me at the table.

"I had to attend one of my father's parties tonight. I was texting you on the way back when you decided to get sassy."

His own sandwich isn't cut, and it's slapped together in a messy mash, two stacked up together. Even looking at the way he makes a sandwich tells me that he cares more about others than he does about himself. Maybe Drew isn’t as heartless as I thought. Maybe he just needs someone to make him care, to show him what compassion and love is?

"Your father? You’ve never mentioned him before."

He shakes his head. "And I’m not mentioning him now either.”

I stare down at the sandwich, and he lets out a loud sigh, then slides his chair next to me. As if I’m a child who can’t feed themselves, he proceeds to hold one side of the sandwich up to my mouth. "Eat."

---