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And I curse the day he drew me in his sketchbook.
When I finally lift myself off the floor, my reflection from the mirror stares back at me. Swollen eyes, tears-stained cheeks, disheveled hair and I am covered in vomit.
The ghost of Riley Johnson stares back at me.
Worthless and grotesque.
Am I so unlovable?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Colton — 18 years old
Maddox and I are chilling on the couch, watching a murder mystery documentary when we hear a loud crash from the apartment next to us. It’s followed by an anguished scream. We both move at the same time, lurching off the couch and rushing to the door.
He makes it to the girls’ apartment first. My chest tightens, my heart galloping in alarm. It’s fucking late into the night. Did someone break into their apartment? Are they hurt?
When I get there, the door is wide open. Maddox stands at the doorway, blocking my view. If he’s just standing there, that means the girls are not in any danger. That’s reassuring, but the frantic speed of my pulse doesn’t slow down.
I move to the right, sidestepping around Maddox to peek inside. The place is trashed. It looks like a storm passed through, destroying everything in its wake.
In the middle of the apartment, Lila is sitting on the floor. Holding a curled-up Riley in her arms. I can’t see her face, but Riley’s whole body shakes with the force of her broken wails. She chokes on her sob, sounding like a trapped, wounded animal.
Her anguish is so palpable, I can almost taste the bitterness of it on my tongue.
What the fuck happened to her?
I take a step forward, but Lila shakes her head, causing me to halt. “Not now,” she mouths, her face etched with concern and protectiveness. She quietly motions for us to leave.
“Let’s go,” Maddox says, clasping my shoulder. “Lila’s got her.”
He leaves first, but shock glues my feet to the floor. I can’t move, I can’t tear my eyes away from a completely shattered Riley. The wounded cries spilling from her lips resonate through me, echoing between my ears. My breath whooshes out of my lungs in a painful rush.
What could possibly make her cry like this?
Did someone die? But then I quickly come to the realization that Riley doesn’t care about anyone else that much to cry like this if they died. I don’t know everything, but I’ve gotten the gist of it from listening to Lila and Maddox’s conversations. Riley’s relationship with her parents is sour. She resents them. Actually, maybe that’s an understatement. Because she wouldn’t cry this much if they died. She probably would be celebrating her freedom.
Riley Johnson is merely a pawn to her father…and I’ve always known that. Men like Thomas? They don’t care about family and they are never affectionate. They only care about their selfish ambitions and disgusting motives. Cue, my own damn father.
I guess in some ways, Riley and I are cut from the same cloth. We were born in the corrupted world of high-society, only to be shackled by its ambiguous rules and left to deal with the aftermath of our decaying souls.
The only two people who truly matter to Riley are Lila, and she’s already here, and the other one is Grayson.
But he can’t be dead. Lila’s concern on her face says something else entirely.
This means…
He fucking broke her heart.
Lila looks up again, frowning. She motions for me to leave again, and this time…I drag myself away from the door. An ache pierces my chest at the sight and sound of Riley’s visible pain, and I can’t understand why.
Scowling at my own thoughts and the twinge of pain in my chest, I close the door. Shutting them in, allowing the Little Wallflower to grieve in private. That’s possibly the only damn favor I will ever do her. I might be a spiteful asshole all the time, but I’m not totally heartless.
I go back to my apartment to find Maddox isn’t on the couch anymore, and the door to his bedroom is closed. Walking to my own room, I don’t bother turning on the lights. I shrug off my shirt and get rid of my sweatpants before crawling into bed.
Lying on my back, I cross my arms behind my head and stare up at the dark ceiling. Sleep evades me, as it always does. My mind lingers, and tonight…it chooses to focus on Riley.
We’ve been somewhat civil with each other the last couple of months.We’re neighbors, so we see each other everyday. It’s inevitable. But we’ve barely spoken more than twenty words to each other in the last six months.
